Chapter Sixteen

Empty Nest

A/N: We would, as usual, like to thank all of our beta-readers for their wonderful advice, commentary and help. This one is really for all the mothers out there. Can't live with you, can't live without you g, but never forget that we love you!

A tap at his bedroom window woke Bill from what had been at the same time a pleasant and unsettling dream. He opened his eyes slowly, half-expecting to see a woman with long, silvery-blonde hair hovering outside, but instead he focused on a pompous-looking Ministry owl standing on the ledge. Letting his eyes wander to the watch on his bedside table before putting his feet on the floor, he noticed with a sigh of frustration that the reason it was still dark outside was that it was barely six o'clock in the morning.

After retrieving a bit of parchment and a copy of the Daily Prophet from the owl, Bill sat back down on his bed and reached for his wand to break the special "Minister of Magic" seal on the back of the note. He laughed, still not quite used to the idea that the Minister of Magic was, in fact, his own father, and then read:

Bill -

I knew something was wrong when I came downstairs this morning and saw that Ron's hand on the clock was dead center between "Prison" and "Hospital". There's no way to hide this from your mother - we've got another hour until she goes downstairs and sees it. Get over here and help me figure this one out.

Dad

Puzzled as to what his youngest brother could possibly have done to warrant such immediate attention, Bill unfurled the copy of the Daily Prophet. He stared for a moment in disbelief, and then started to laugh so hard that he fell backwards onto his bed. When he had finally calmed down, he rummaged for his robes and prepared to Apparate to the Office of the Minister.

A few moments later, he was being led into his father's office. Arthur Weasley stood in front of the fireplace, talking to Sirius Black, whose head was floating above the flames. Bill cleared his throat and his father wheeled around.

"Ah, Bill! Wonderful. Give me just a second, will you?" Arthur turned and addressed Sirius. "Right, so let him sleep - he'll need his rest. I'll talk to you more about it later. And, thanks Sirius."

"Not a problem," Sirius answered grimly. "I'm used to trouble." With a roar of flame, Sirius was gone.

Arthur Weasley rubbed his hands together briskly and smiled anxiously at his son. Bill noted that his father's hairline seemed to have receded even further, and that there were bags under his eyes, but that he also seemed to be standing straighter and taller than he ever had before. "So, you've read it then?"

Bill nodded. He was about to ask his father what Sirius had to say, when Charlie came bursting through the door, hair wild, eyelids still swollen with sleep, and robes hanging open. Bill rolled his eyes when he saw that Charlie hadn't bothered to put on proper clothes underneath the robes - he was wearing pajama bottoms and his dragon tattoo was still dozing on his chest.

"What's wrong?" Charlie nearly screamed, looking anxiously from his father to his brother.

"Didn't you read the article?" Arthur asked calmly.

"Article? What article? All I got was this note saying that Ron was in trouble. There was no article attached. The owl must have lost it on its way up to the camp."

Bill thought it was more likely that Charlie must have lost it on his floor, but he said nothing and simply reached for the copy of the newspaper on his father's desk, and read aloud:

MINISTER OF MAGIC'S SON IN NEAR-FATAL BAR BRAWL
WITH MALFOY HEIR

By N. Flummery, Daily Prophet Staff Writer

Robert Weasley, son of Minister of Magic Arthur Weasley, was involved in a fist fight yesterday evening that left his former Hogwarts classmate Draco Malfoy battling for his life at St. Mungo's.

"No!" interjected Charlie. "Really?"

Bill nodded and continued reading.

Mr. Weasley, a former Head Boy, now employed as a barkeep at the popular Snout's Fair tavern in Stagsden, threw the punch that caused a devastating head injury to Mr. Malfoy.

"They've never got on," reports Pansy Parkinson, another Hogwarts graduate. "And Roland has a terrible temper. His friends were always having to keep him away from Draco at school. We never knew what might set him off."

"Wonder where he gets that from," Arthur muttered, motioning with his head to a portrait of Mrs. Weasley on his desk.

"Mr .Malfoy, who, along with his mother, was residing this summer with his uncle, Martin Lewis, is the sole heir to the Malfoy fortune. Malfoy Manor is currently under renovation to restore the damage inflicted during the war. His father, Lucius Malfoy, was killed on the same day that You Know Who went missing.

"These have been extremely difficult times," says Narcissa Malfoy. "Draco has been my rock these past few months. It is impossible to describe the pain and anguish that one suffers at the loss of a husband - and to lose a son! I can barely - " Mrs. Malfoy was unable to finish this statement through her tears.

Although it is now suspected that Mr. Malfoy will live, as long as he unconscious, the extent of his injuries remains unkown.

Amos Diggory, head of the M.L.E.S., assured the Daily Prophet that everything was under control. "We are currently gathering evidence," was all he could be quoted as saying this morning. No charges have been filed as of yet.

Several patrons at the Snout's Fair yesterday evening have come forward to state that Mr. Weasley's attack was an act of self-defense. Since many of the witnesses were under the influence of alcohol at the time of the fight, it is not clear whether or not their testimony may be considered valid.

Arthur Weasley, the interim Minister of Magic, has not made any comment to the Daily Prophet at the time of publication. His son was also unavailable for comment, although it is rumored that Sirius Black, known (cleared) felon, is already representing him.

Bill put the paper back down on the desk and looked at his brother. He couldn't read the expression on Charlie's face at first – he was looking at the floor and shaking slightly. Finding it difficult to believe that his brother would be that upset about a fight, Bill took a step closer and put a hand on Charlie's shoulder. "Charlie? You all right?" he started to ask, but never finished, because Charlie looked up and burst into a loud torrent of laughter.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Bill started to laugh as well.

"Boys!" interjected their father harshly, "Try to exercise a little restraint." They both stopped chuckling for a second and looked at him. But when Arthur's eyes strayed to the headline and he cracked an unwilling smile, they lost it again.

"So," asked Bill, when he had caught his breath, "you don't think this is too serious, do you Dad? Why was Sirius here? Are the Malfoys pressing charges? Was it really self-defense?"

"No official charges yet. Just threats. But according to Sirius, Ron acted honorably. He took Malfoy outside and Malfoy punched him as soon as Ron started to turn his back."

"Bastard!" said Charlie, shaking his head.

Arthur grew serious quite suddenly. "I'm relieved, boys, that you've all grown up so well. And I can't help but know that it's partially my fault that Ron's in this mess now. Lucius Malfoy and I never got on, and what happened during the war didn't exactly help create a friendly atmosphere between our families, now did it?"

He slumped into the large, official-looking Minister's chair and put his head in his hands, groaning loudly. "Your mother has always been afraid that something like this might happen. It sounds like there were enough witnesses at the pub to keep Ron out of serious trouble, and Sirius was just telling me that he's got the matter well in hand, if it comes to court – but it might be a struggle. And if it is… well, Ron's of age. He faces adult consequences."

Charlie looked uncomfortably at Bill, who shrugged, and sat down opposite his father. He reflected that they were all grown up now – even little Ginny was of age, and she'd successfully brewed and administered the Wolfsbane Potion the week before. Bill tried hard to conjure an image of his sister that did not include a smudged nose and plaits, and failed. He could remember when she and Ron had been born. He'd already been quite grown up by then - starting his first year at Hogwarts and feeling quite important – and had used to hold one of them in each arm, for pictures. He remembered getting letters about Ron's first word and Ginny's first teeth.

But Ron and Ginny had been some of the most important figures in the war. Bill supposed he should start thinking of them as adults, and resolved to try.

"Well, I'm glad to see that you're all here."

Bill recognized the voice of Rose K. Brown and looked up to see her standing in the doorway. He looked at his watch. It wasn't even seven yet. Did she work all the time?

Raising his head from the desk, Arthur straightened and said "good morning" to her. Rose gave Charlie a withering look and tutted, and Charlie immediately fastened the clasp on his robe, but not without winking at her first.

Rose turned back to Arthur. "The Daily Prophet wants a statement from you."

"And I'll give them one in a few minutes. I'd rather not speak with that N. Flummery if possible. I'd wager he's using a Quick Quotes Quill from Rita Skeeter's private collection." Arthur pulled a piece of parchment towards him and picked up a quill.

"She," corrected Rose, "was in your class at school, Bill - in Slytherin. Remember?"

Bill did remember, and it only made him echo his father's sentiments. "Let Dad make an official statement, but I'd say no interviews or anything. Write it out and one of us can deliver it on our way out."

"Fine," Rose answered. "You can run it by me and I can deliver it and I can talk with Nancy if you'd like. She always seemed to like me. Now, Arthur, I'm sorry for all of the trouble in your family at the moment. I'm here to help however you need me. But I wonder if we could shift gears for just a moment and discuss the situation at Azkaban?"

Arthur nodded and Rose turned briskly to Charlie. "Charlie, did you finish the second set of letters?"

"Yeah." Charlie yawned. "Hopefully we'll get another three riders before too long."

"Don't you have all your dragon riders yet?" Arthur asked sharply.

"Nope, not by a long shot."

"But those Aurors can't hold the Dementors back for more than another two weeks – that's on the outside, according to Moody." Arthur looked at his son with concern. "Hasn't anyone got back to you?"

Charlie shook his head and began to explain. "None of the wartime riders were too enthusiastic about the whole thing. A few of them said they'd be reserve riders if we really needed them. So, we've got me, Mick, my assistant, and three reserves."

Lines of stress appeared on Rose's forehead. "We have to get three more, out of all those athletes we listed."

"What athletes?" Bill asked curiously.

Grinning, Charlie said, "Rose here thought it might be a good idea to solicit the talents of a few top-notch Quidditch players."

"Quidditch players?" Arthur grinned. "I bet Ludo Bagman'd do it for you in a heartbeat."

They all laughed at this, and even Rose cracked a smile.

"Bagman was a Beater," Charlie explained. "We narrowed it down to Seekers. They have the skill at diving and maneuvering. Also, they tend to be smaller and lighter than other players, which is a distinct advantage when riding a dragon. I was a Seeker."

"Yeah, and you're so graceful," Bill couldn't help observing. "Tell me, was your assistant a Seeker as well?"

"She was," Charlie answered, and suddenly seemed very interested in speaking with Rose. "We sent out invitation letters to all the professional Seekers in Britain, and all the Seekers in trial for league teams – and we sought out a few international players as well."

"I hope we can attract the foreign flyers – it would be such good international press." Rose frowned. "Of course, I don't know why they'd want to come all the way to Scotland just to sit on a dragon and get rained on, but given our success rate so far, we figured it couldn't hurt to ask."

"Actually… that's a great idea." Bill wagged a half-joking finger at Charlie. "As long as you didn't send letters to any of the Falcons' players."

"Of course we did," interjected Rose, looking slightly annoyed. "Why not? You never know who might come in useful." She tossed her head and muttered something under her breath that sounded like "Gryffindor prejudice".

"Slytherin politics," Charlie muttered back at once. "It might look good to represent all kinds, but I don't trust all kinds on my dragons."

Bill agreed with Charlie; however, knowing that the issue of House distinctions could easily blow up to a full-length debate, he didn't press the issue. "Do you need me right now?" he asked, turning to his father. "I reckon I'll go into work early today. I need to finish clearing triggered curses out of the bottom level of Gringotts where that dragon mucked everything up –" he ignored a glare from Charlie, "– so it's a safe zone by September when that charmer arrives. Can't send somebody down there into all that." Bill rubbed his head, and noticed as he did so that it was exactly the same habitual motion that his father used, when under stress. "If there's any news on Ron, though, just let me know."

Arthur nodded.

"I can go see Mum later, if you think it would help calm her down," Bill offered, turning back at the door.

"Thanks," Arthur smiled slightly, "but I think your mother'd planned to visit Lupin Lodge this afternoon, and help the teenagers with jumpers. Or dress robes. Can't remember – anyhow, she'll certainly be going after she sees the newspaper."

"Oof," Charlie said, shaking his head. "Ron's in for it now."

"Yes," Arthur sighed, glancing at the Daily Prophet once more. "Yes, he is."

"Let's work on your statement about that, Arthur," Rose pressed, pulling her chair up to face the desk and pulling her clipboard. "And while we do, Charlie, aside from those Quidditch letters, I want you to follow up every one of the last declined notes with a new one saying that it's really not optional – the Ministry needs people. Go find your assistant –"

"Associate."

" – Mr. O'Malley, and finish that off as quickly as you can." Rose turned her attention back to the Minister, leaving Charlie to give incredulous and unflattering looks to the back of her head.

Bill chuckled, winked at his brother, and left the office of the Minister of Magic.

~*~

Penelope Weasley had awakened every morning for the past six months in a relatively good mood. It was part of her natural character to be optimistic. But the first seconds of daily optimism were dashed every time she felt the growing bulge in her belly, or looked up on instinct to see the picture of Percy still smiling and waving to her on the bureau. Her heart would lurch and she would remember.

This particular morning, the baby had actually awakened her with its kicking. There was just a month to go, and Penelope was a bit frightened that the baby might never come out. She reached for her stomach and opened her eyes slowly, catching a glimpse of the bureau, and Percy, and she felt a wave of sadness sweep over her as her eyes glanced across the calendar. It was August twenty-seventh. Her anniversary - hers and Percy's. Their first. They had never even made it to their first anniversary. Penelope felt the tears begin to form in her eyes and she pulled the covers over her head, but not before catching a glimpse of Percy's prefect badge glinting in the summer sun that was pouring through the window. Without warning, her mind fluttered back to a time when Percy had worn the badge proudly – when she had first noticed him.

Having been raised in a Muggle household, Penelope had not been used to many things at Hogwarts. She had known that she had been placed in Ravenclaw because she was smart, she had known that the Gryffindors were supposed to be brave, the Hufflepuffs hardworking, and the Slytherins, well, who couldn't see what they were like? So she had been quite surprised initially to find out that the Gryffindor prefect with the bright red hair and horn-rimmed glasses seemed more smart than brave, although, she reflected now, in the end the bravery and courage had won out, hadn't they?

Percy had been so cute. Even at fourteen, she had noticed her tendency to be attracted to boys for their brains. Well, after fourteen, she'd only been attracted to Percy, period. She had first spoken to him on the Hogwarts grounds during her fourth year. She had been sitting on a bench outside on a warm day in April, reading an Arithmancy textbook. Percy had strode by her, taking the long, quick steps that always made him appear blustery and impatient. She had glanced up, seen who it was, and had looked back down at her book, blushing slightly. She had known who Percy Weasley was and she'd been hoping for a chance to speak to him. At the last second, however, her will had evaporated, and she had pulled the textbook up closer to her face.

She had heard Percy walk by on the path, and the next sound was that of a throat clearing. He'd asked if he could sit down. She'd nodded. He'd asked her questions about Arithmancy - he was also studying it, but he was a year ahead of her. He had seemed to her to be a bit lonely and she couldn't understand why - she had found him charming, and he'd made her laugh. He'd told her how appalled he was that his younger brothers seemed to be constantly in trouble at Hogwarts, "Honestly, you'd think that people would use common sense," and she had told him about her younger sister, a Muggle who, at age twelve, sneaked out of her parents' house every other night to go dancing in the nearby town. They discussed how hypocritical it was for Arthur Weasley to go around breaking the rules of his own Muggle Protection Act left and right and she had told Percy how her father worked for an environmentalist organization, yet insisted on driving everywhere, no matter how close. They had discovered much in common, and by the time he'd escorted her up to the Great Hall for dinner, she had been smitten.

Penelope groaned under the covers. Something that sounded like a pan being thrown onto a stove resonated through the house, louder than usual. A moment later she could smell frying bacon from downstairs, and her stomach recoiled against the unwelcome smell. Molly Weasley had been insisting that she eat it every morning, "I always ate it when I was pregnant and look how my children turned out." Penelope rolled her eyes - she wondered if bacon was somehow the secret ingredient for red hair.

Percy's hair had been the most subdued of all the Weasleys. Also, his freckles had been almost nonexistent. All those years of studying indoors while his brothers were outside practicing Quidditch had definitely had an effect. Only a handful of freckles had managed to develop - a smattering on his hands and on his cheeks. They had been very light, but she had noticed them. The first time he'd held her hand - Penelope's stomach did another somersault - in the prefects' compartment during the ride to Hogwarts, at the beginning of her fifth year. She had reflected at the time that this must be one of the reasons he had been placed in Gryffindor. She never would have had the nerve to make the first move. True, they had written almost every day during the summer, but still, she had felt extremely shy upon seeing him in person after a two-month separation. She had spent much of the ride staring mesmerized at their entwined hands.

Soon they had been sneaking into abandoned classrooms for stolen kisses between classes. Neither one of them had wanted to sneak out at night, because that would've been breaking their own prefect rules. But they had both agreed that going to classrooms during their own free time was acceptable. People had thought that Percy Weasley was a stick in the mud. People had found him boring, pompous, self-righteous...but they hadn't really known him. Her Percy had been exciting, passionate, gentle, considerate, and well, of course he had been a bit pig-headed at times, but weren't most men?

Penelope forced herself to sit up in bed. She could hear her mother-in-law talking to someone quite loudly downstairs. She tried to block it out of her mind and bring back that last memory – of kissing in the classrooms – and found herself on the edge of tears again. She put both hands on her swelling belly and tried to calm herself down. It won't do to think back on him, will it? It isn't going to bring him back...

Nothing could bring him back. It made her so angry sometimes. Running her fingers through her short, curly hair, she was reminded of the last time that she had been truly angry with Percy. Two months after his death, she had felt a rage towards him that she had never felt while he was alive. She had not been able to sleep that night. Feeling very unhappy, ugly, five-months-pregnant and fat, she had heaved herself out of bed and into the shower. Her long curls had been even more tangled than normal, due to the amount of time she had been spending in bed and her lack of interest in picking up her head for any reason. After struggling with shampoo for about five minutes, she'd shut off the shower and begun ransacking the bathroom looking for a pair of scissors. Percy had loved her hair. It had been beautiful when it was long – light brown, fine, and very curly – it never seemed to lie flat or lose its bounce. Well, he isn't here, she'd thought furiously. So I don't need it anymore. Do wizards really not use scissors? Why can't I find any?

She had thrown on her robe and stomped down the stairs, out to Arthur Weasley's workshop. After a few minutes she had found a pair of rusty, dull scissors, performed a simple Sharpening Spell, and begun randomly chopping at her curly locks. With each snip of the scissors, she'd muttered "Take that, Percy." It had been remarkably therapeutic – more so than any amount of tea served up by Molly Weasley, who had given a slight shriek at the sight of Penelope's shorn appearance. Tears had welled in her mother-in-law's eyes, but Molly had recovered herself, told Penelope that it suited her, and had offered to even out the back.

Penelope jolted back into reality at the sound of white-hot sizzling, and the overpowering odor of very-ready bacon. Another noise from downstairs made her jump. Something must have been bothering Molly – either that or the ghoul from the attic was making a social call in the kitchen of the Burrow. Penelope threw her legs over the side of the bed. She was really getting too enormous, and was actually a little relieved that Percy's last memory of her hadn't been in this state, although it would have been lovely to have him put his arms around her and lie and tell her that she would always be beautiful in his eyes.

No! Penelope stuffed her feet into slippers, ignoring the calendar. She would try not to remember that today was anything special. She was glad that Molly planned to head out to Professor Lupin's house to see everyone. She wanted to be alone and spend the day wallowing in her own grief.

It struck her, as it always did, that the wallowing couldn't be good for the baby. She touched her stomach with soothing fingers, stroking the bulge as if the baby could feel it, and tried to bring her mind around. Perhaps she would try to work. After all, she was still trying to develop an Imprisonment Charm to hold prisoners in Culparrat, and the Ministry needed it now more than ever – her father-in-law had been gently prodding her for weeks to put her head back into the developing process, if she could manage it. Penelope rebuffed Arthur's requests as best she could – telling him that though she had received top marks in school for Charms, she didn't have the skill and knowledge to accomplish such an enormous spell alone. And that was partly true.

But that wasn't the real reason that she couldn't put her heart into it. She had started working on it for Percy's sake and all the research she'd done since his death in February had been extremely painful. Lately it made her physically sick to look back over their painstaking notes and labeled Arthimantic charts, where her handwriting and Percy's were scribbled in tandem on every page. It had been their project. They had been in love already, but it was over those pages that they had come to depend on one another.

A year and a half earlier, before she and Percy had been married, he had been extremely frustrated at the Ministry. Fudge had been losing control and had been asking Percy to carry out near-impossible tasks. One such task had been to recall the Dementors from the Dark Army and set them back at Azkaban to guard the criminals. Percy had realized that Fudge's request was unachievable idiocy, and for the first time had begun to doubt the honor of the Ministry. One evening, mainly in an attempt to calm him down, Penelope had proposed trying to develop an Imprisonment Charm, for use in lieu of Dementors. Percy had immediately taken to the idea. They'd worked on it in their spare time – it had drawn them even closer together, although developing the charm had seemed almost as impossible as catching the Dementors.

One night, late in the spring, they had been sitting in Percy's cramped quarters near the Ministry. They had been bent over the little table that doubled as a desk and eating space, reading up on spells and enchantments that might help them. Occasionally, Penelope had kicked Percy gently under the table and he'd looked up and given her a tight little smile, the kind that he used when he was very unhappy but trying to be a man about it. That night, the smile had contorted into a worried frown. He'd stared at her for a moment as if seeing her for the first time. She'd stared back, curious as to whether something might be on her nose, and she'd resisted the urge to reach up and rub it. Then, suddenly, Percy had pushed his chair back from the table – it had made a loud scraping noise on the wood floor. He'd come around to where she'd been sitting – she'd pushed her chair away as well, ready to jump up in case anything strange was about to happen – but he'd fallen to his knees, thrown his arms around her waist and buried his head in her chest. She'd held him, stroking his hair lightly and waiting for an explanation, and finally he had pulled back, looked up at her with glasses askew, and burst "I wouldn't be anything without you – you give me strength – and would you please consider marrying me?"

The emotion that she had felt at that moment had been overwhelming. She had gaped at him, then laughed, then started to cry, and told him that of course she would marry him, what did he think? She hadn't left that night. Or the next night. From that moment on, they'd been inseparable, working hard during the days and evenings, each knowing that the other was there to back them up.

He wouldn't have been anything without her. Would she be able to be anything without him? Where would she get her strength now? Absentmindedly, Penelope rubbed her distended belly, where Percy's son or daughter was rapidly gaining life. She tried not to think about raising the baby, without him. She tried not to think about anything. Every thought seemed to hurt more than the last one.

With a forlorn sigh, she pulled on her dressing gown, paused to study Percy's picture on the dresser, and headed downstairs to the kitchen.

~*~

Molly Weasley looked furiously around her kitchen, not sure what else she could bang or throw. A creak from above told her that Penelope was finally awake. It was about time.

Molly took a deep breath and reminded herself that she wasn't upset with Penelope, but with Ron. Regardless, she wanted to get to Lupin Lodge as early as possible today – she had some choice words to say to her youngest son. Two shots of the special sherry that she kept reserved for times like these had not calmed her temper in the slightest. And Arthur – he hadn't seemed nearly as worried as he should be. How so many of her children had failed to inherit her common sense was beyond her – although it wasn't beyond her when she saw the way that Arthur constantly behaved. What an example.

She turned to watch the bacon fry in the pan. Now that the children were all out of the house, she found that she had more time than she knew what to do with. Arthur was busy trying to rebuild the Ministry, George paid frequent visits, and so did Bill and Charlie now that they were in London, but they were grown men and hardly needed the attention that they had as boys. Her relationship with Fred was still a bit strained since he had eloped with his girlfriend Angelina immediately after the war was over, although Molly was trying hard to make things up to him now. She felt an odd need to make something up to all her family. She had even finally given in to Arthur's obsession by trying to learn Muggle cooking, and she found that it helped kill time very nicely.

Of course, there was also Penelope to look after.

Molly poured herself a cup of tea and tried very hard not to remember what day it was. She had arranged for the two of them to go and see the teenagers at Lupin Lodge. That had seemed like an excellent plan until she remembered that the purpose of the visit was to see the gowns that Ginny and Hermione had purchased for Lavender Brown and Seamus Finnigan's wedding, in four days.

Still, she didn't think it was healthy for Penelope to be alone today, especially not with the baby's birth so near. Molly lifted her wand and made the bacon fly onto a plate, not in the mood to get up and actually take it out of the pan with a spackula. She wished that she could get through to her daughter-in-law somehow. She and Penelope had never been very close – Percy had moved out of the house during the summer after Voldemort's return, and tensions between him and his father and brothers had been high. He'd brought Penelope home once or twice, but contact had been infrequent.

Molly's first impressions of Penelope had been that she was a very nice girl. Just the sort of girl for Percy. Funny, she'd been afraid that he, out of all of her sons, might have had trouble falling in love, yet he had been the first one to give away his heart, the first one to marry, and the first one to be a father.

Except that Percy would never be a father. The knowledge made Molly feel sick inside, and she only felt sicker, remembering how her son's marriage had begun.

Percy had come over one day in the late spring to tell his mother about the engagement. She had immediately begun to fantasize about planning the wedding that she'd always dreamed of for each of her children, but her son had stopped her short. He'd known that the other members of the family weren't happy with his career choices. Penelope had been living with him, and as far as they were concerned, a wedding wouldn't even be necessary. They'd exchanged modest rings. They'd joined wands. Penelope's parents were Muggles and she didn't speak with them anymore, for reasons that Molly still didn't quite understand.

The couple had just wanted Molly's approval. Molly cringed as she remembered her reaction. She had been furious, and selfish. She'd insisted to Percy that they have an official wizard wedding. Percy had drawn himself straight, chin in the air and chest up, a mannerism that he'd almost never affected in front of his mother, and told her not to be ridiculous. She'd called Penelope a "scarlet woman" and told Percy that she didn't believe that he didn't want a ceremony. Her poor boy. He had looked so defeated. He'd scraped at the wooden table with his fingernail and muttered, "Fine, mother, I'll try to talk to Penelope about it."

Molly had drafted a letter to send back with Percy. In it, she'd told Penelope not to worry, that she would take care of everything, and all that they had to do was show up on August twenty-seventh and be happy. She'd picked the date at random –hoping for a cool, late summer day – and a reply had arrived from Penelope two weeks later, thanking Mrs. Weasley, and telling her that they would be there. It had been so selfish, Molly reflected. So selfish, but at the time, it had seemed so important.

It had been a huge undertaking to gather everyone together for that day. Ginny and Hermione had been extremely helpful, and the preparations had helped take Hermione's mind off of her own problems of that summer, at least for a bit. But Fred and George had put up a fight. Why should they attend 'Perfect' Percy's wedding? "Are you blind, Mum, or did you miss the fact that there's a WAR going on?" Fred had shouted at her one day. She had applied to Arthur for help, and although she could tell that he was torn as well, he had spoken to the twins and they had eventually given in.

Percy and Penelope had arrived in the morning. Penelope had been wearing simple purple robes and Molly, who hadn't seen her in several months, had reflected that she really was a beautiful girl. Percy had seemed tense, but as they'd sat in the kitchen talking, Molly had noticed Penelope's left hand disappear under the table to squeeze Percy's, and she'd watched as Percy visibly calmed down. They had seemed to be very much in love, and what more could a mother wish for her son?

The wedding had been so small. Just the Weasleys, Harry, and Hermione. Her boys had been on their best behavior and although there was little laughter, she'd thought that Penelope and Percy had been grateful. Reflecting back on it now, she supposed that they were probably uncomfortable the entire day. The guilt that she felt now was so strong that she felt physically ill.

"Good morning Molly." Penelope was standing in the doorway.

"Good morning dear!" she said in her brightest 'mum' voice. It was difficult, partly because even now, months later, she had a hard time adjusting to Penelope's new short hair. And her daughter-in-law, she noted, was still in her dressing gown.

Penelope slid onto a bench at the kitchen table.

"Tea?" asked Molly brightly.

Penelope nodded. She looked pale and her brow was furrowed. Something was clutched in her hand.

"Bacon?" Molly asked, feeling a bit ridiculous.

Penelope shook her head and mumbled, "No, I'm big enough as it is," and continued to fumble with whatever she was holding in her hand.

"Oh, dear," continued Molly, in what she hoped was a soothing voice, "it's perfectly normal to feel that way. You're not as big as you think you are, and when the baby's born, you'll have your figure back in no time!" She looked down at herself and sighed. "Well. I'm sure you'll have better luck, in any case."

Penelope just shrugged. Molly handed her a cup of tea and pressed, "You should get dressed fairly soon. Since you can't Apparate right now, we'll have to take a Muggle taxi and go to the train station. It's going to take us three hours to get there."

Penelope shook her head. "You go, Molly. I don't really feel up to it today."

"Nonsense!" said Molly briskly. "You'll feel better once you're up and around! The girls are dying to see you!"

But Penelope just shook her head. Molly searched herself for another cheering tactic, but came up with none. It was terrible. Penelope should have been eagerly anticipating the birth of her first child. Percy's only child. Molly had been so excited to hear about the pregnancy from Percy. And when Percy had owled to say that he was leaving the Ministry and coming home, Molly had been ecstatic – not only to see her son and daughter-in-law, but also at the thought that a grandchild would soon arrive as well.

But Percy had never made it home.

Clink! Penelope dropped what she'd been holding onto the floor. It rolled under the table, and in her current state, she couldn't reach it to pick it up.

Molly pointed her wand. "Accio," she said briskly, bringing a small, shiny object into her palm where it fitted there, round and cold. She handed it back to Penelope, but gasped when she saw what it was – Percy's prefect badge. Penelope's lip was trembling horribly now.

Molly slid onto the bench beside her and embraced her daughter-in-law tightly. They weren't close, but they would be. Molly wanted to make sure of it. There would come a time when Penelope wanted to move on with her life – she might even meet another man, years down the road. But for now, this widowed girl and her coming baby were all that the Weasleys had left of Percy's life, and Molly wanted to keep her as close as possible. "There, there, dear," she said, smoothing Penelope's curly hair, and giving her a quick, motherly peck on the forehead. "Perhaps you're right about not coming to Lupin Lodge – why don't you just spend the day in the garden? Hermione left some good books on her last visit that I think you might enjoy, and I've Self-Started the tea, so it'll be on all day. You just rest. All right?"

She pulled away from Penelope and looked at her questioningly. Penelope ventured a small smile, nodded, and let Mrs. Weasley lead her out into the garden.

~*~

"Mum! I thought you were taking the train!" said Ginny in astonishment. She was sitting at the table in the sunny kitchen at Lupin Lodge when her mother walked into the room. Molly dusted soot from her clothes with one hand and used the other to balance parcels with her wand. Ginny looked behind her. "Where's Penny?"

"She's feeling a bit sad today," replied Molly with a meaningful glance, placing several packages on the table. "So I set her up in the garden with a good book, and instructions to stick her head in the fire if anything happens with the baby. I'll Apparate back in the early afternoon. How are you dear?"

"Just fine, Mum," Ginny answered shortly. She already knew that an argument with her mother was forthcoming, and she wasn't looking forward to it. She'd made up her mind earlier to talk to her mother about her school plans today, but everything that had happened with Ron in the past twenty-four hours had made her tired and worried – and she knew that his current problems weren't going to help her plead her case to stay at Lupin Lodge.

"Where is everyone?" Molly demanded, looking around. "Ron?" she called.

Ginny winced. "Sleeping, Mum – we weren't expecting you until later."

"Sleeping?" Molly narrowed her eyes. "RON?" she called again.

"Mum… he had a hard night."

"He'll have a harder morning! And where's Harry?"

"I don't know – Remus is in the garden, Sirius is working, Harry's… probably flying? And I don't know where Hermione is at the moment. Do you want a cup of tea?"

"I'd hoped that Ron would at least be awake, giving some thought to his position." Molly pursed her lips and sat down at the table. "Actually, dear, I'd love something cold – traveling by Floo always dries out my throat. Pumpkin juice perhaps?"

Ginny magicked a glass and pitcher over to the table, and sat down across from her mother. She couldn't sit for long, however, before she nervously stood up and started pacing around the room, pretending to look busy.

"Ginny, what on earth are you wearing?" inquired Mrs. Weasley, glancing disapprovingly at the worn jeans and Muggle shirt. "I wish you would wear your robes. After all that we've fought for..."

"Mum!" exclaimed Ginny. Obviously her mother was determined to make her want to argue. "We didn't fight over clothing. This stuff's much more comfortable."

"Your arms are showing!"

"So?"

Mrs. Weasley sighed deeply, "Well, at least you're wearing robes to the wedding. I've brought some things down with me. Bought robes always need some adjustments – I want everyone to try theirs on today so that I can sort them out."

The two of them sat in silence a while longer. Ginny knew what she had to say to her mother, but was terrified to broach the subject and meet with an unequivocal "No".

Mrs. Weasley didn't seem to notice Ginny's nerves; she started talking about Penelope, while glancing towards the door every few moments, in obvious search of Ron. "I'm very worried about her," she admitted sadly, "I know this must be difficult, but she's got the baby to think about now and I'm not sure if she realizes that or not. Maybe it wasn't a good idea to give her Percy's old room. Wait until you see her hair. I can't get over it. It's so short..."

"And to think that you give Bill a hard time for keeping his long. Which do you prefer Mum?" interrupted Ginny wickedly.

Molly gave her a look, and continued. "Don't be smart, Ginny. You'll see it soon enough when you come home next week, and perhaps you can help me to cheer her up while you finish your studies…" Molly looked to the door again. "Which reminds me, I want to talk to Remus while I'm here to see if he has any idea which textbooks are the most useful."

Now was the time to speak, but Ginny found that her voice was failing her. She didn't want to disappoint her mother – but she couldn't go home. She just couldn't. She sighed and looked out the window.

Crash! A loud noise startled both of them from upstairs. It was followed by the sound of Ron's voice, "Damn! Bloody hell! Ruddy owl!" and then Pigwidgeon's high-pitched hooting. Ginny stifled a laugh - Pig had learned how to get out of his cage and had taken to greeting Ron as soon as he climbed out of bed in the morning. A few moments later, they heard Ron's big feet padding slowly down the stairs. He stopped in the doorway when he saw his mother sitting in the kitchen.

"'lo Mum," he muttered, not moving. He looked a bit frightened. Ginny heard her mother gasp and she felt like doing the same. There was an enormous bruise on Ron's cheek, the line of a healed cut on his temple, and dark bags hung under his eyes.

"Ron" Molly breathed anxiously. "Look at you - what - what - HOW could you have got involved in something like this? Did you even stop to –"

To Ginny's surprise, Ron held up a hand and said softly, "I know what you're going to say, Mum. I know the whole lecture. I'm sure you've talked to Dad already so you know what really happened." He winced. "My head hurts," he muttered.

Ginny smirked at him. He certainly did know how to play it for sympathy.

Molly sighed loudly and approached her son. She reached up to look more closely at the cut on Ron's face and he flinched slightly as she softly pressed her fingers against it. "Have you seen a doctor?" she asked much more quietly than Ginny had anticipated.

"No," Ron answered, wincing a bit as his mother probed at the wound. "Hermione put something on it last night before I went to bed, ow! Mum - " Ron pulled away from his mother, exasperated, and said, "It's okay."

"Well, if Hermione looked at it, then I'm sure she thought to disinfect it. But it looks horrible. What were you thinking?"

Ron didn't answer. Ginny felt for him. Her mother obviously wanted to discuss the situation, and at the moment, no good could come of that at all. Ron was more than sorry for the mess, and Ginny knew how scared he was of getting arrested. Yet Molly continued.

"And how does your employer feel about this whole mess? Fighting while you're at work." She crossed her arms and shook her head. "It doesn't exactly look good to start your first job in this way, does it?"

Ginny saw Ron close his eyes and take a deep breath. She stifled a laugh. The situation wasn't funny at all, but she couldn't help wanting to warn her mother that if she didn't leave Ron alone, he might punch her as well.

"It's nearly eleven o'clock, Ron. You should really go upstairs and get dressed."

"I'm dressed."

"Still, there are young women in this house. You should dress properly before you come downstairs."

"I'm wearing clothes."

"You're wearing pajamas. Where are your robes?"

"Packed. In my trunk," said Ron, picking up a piece of toast. "I wear these everywhere. To work, to the pitch – in fact, I think I'll wear them to the wedding –"

"Well, if this were my house, you'd be wearing your robes every day. It's a sign of respect! People have given their lives so that we can continue to live the way that our kind have for thousands of years..." Ginny rolled her eyes at Ron to indicate that this topic had already been discussed.

"Robes have nothing to do with being magical." Ron grinned as much as he could manage. "Ancient wizards didn't even wear robes, Mum."

Molly opened her mouth as if to protest, but before she could say another word to Ron, Remus walked into the kitchen. Ginny breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of him. With Remus here, she'd be able to talk to her mother without the discussion escalating into a fight.

"Ron's absolutely right, Molly," Remus said, smiling. "The early wizards did not wear robes. I'm partial to them myself, but I can understand the younger generation's interest in Muggle clothing. I myself used to quite enjoy wearing blue jeans while riding with Sirius on the flying motorbike."

"Well, Remus, I suppose you are right. How are you, dear?" Mrs. Weasley smiled up at Remus and Ginny felt a pang of irritation. This was exactly the reason that she was not returning home this Autumn. Her mother still considered Ginny and Ron to be small children, and since Percy's death she'd been more overbearing than ever. Ginny knew that her mother wanted to somehow preserve the feeling of a house overrun with youthfulness, and she probably thought that having Ginny back in her old room would make the Burrow feel like home.

But Ginny knew that she'd be stifled in the Burrow without anyone for company but her parents and Penelope, no matter how cozy her mother made it. She hadn't even discussed any of this with Ron. She knew that Ron didn't want to go back home at the end of the summer, and now that he had a job, he had an excuse to stay. Of course, he was of age and could go where he liked – so was she, for that matter – but it wasn't ever a question of what they were allowed to do. Her mother was very fond of telling them that they could do whatever they liked, in a tone of voice that suggested otherwise.

Ginny was anxious to see what sort of fight her mother might put up about Ron's staying in Stagsden. She looked at her brother hopefully; maybe he'd say something now and deflect some of the attention away from her own announcement.

Hermione entered the room and Molly rose to give her a hug. Soon they were chatting about Hermione's impending adventure in Cortona. Molly was concerned for Hermione, but, Ginny noted, seemed oddly supportive of her choice.

"You're a smart girl," Mrs. Weasley said brightly, and then frowned as she turned her attention to her son again. "Any thoughts as to what you'll be doing at the end of the summer?"

"Expect I'll keep working," grumbled Ron, instantly sounding defensive. Ginny couldn't help thinking that she hoped that Ron would be free to work at the end of the summer. There was no telling how Draco Malfoy might blow the whole situation out of proportion.

"Well, yes, at the pub?"

"Where else?"

"Oh, I don't know. I thought you might want to come home and see about helping your father at the Ministry."

"Doing what?"

"Whatever it is that you're good at dear."

"Thanks Mum, but Harry and I are staying here in Stagsden. We're looking for a house, aren't we Harry?"

Everyone's heads turned to face Harry, who had just entered the room, his Firebolt slung over his shoulder. Ginny saw Ron wink at Harry and guessed that this plan had been hatched in Ron's head exactly ten seconds earlier.

Harry nodded, placed his Firebolt in the corner, and sat down at the table as well, looking extremely tired. Ginny couldn't help watching him; his eyes flitted out the window and toward the Lewis Manor every five seconds. She knew that he'd gone half-mad about what was happening with Malfoy – he had gone stark white, last night, when Hermione had told them that the M.L.E.S. was in the house for Ron. Harry had tried to push past her and go downstairs – it had taken Hermione, Ginny and Remus to talk him into staying out of it, and in the end, it had been Ginny, mentioning to him that the Daily Prophet was also in the living room, that had sent him back to his bedroom to brood alone.

"A house?" Molly asked sharply. "Here in Stagsden? With what money?"

"Mum, how many times do I have to tell you that I've got a JOB." Ron's face was getting redder and Mrs. Weasley's eyes were screwed up into tiny beads.

"At a pub! How can you afford a house? And who knows what you may have to pay to get yourself out of trouble!"

Ron ignored her last comment. "I'm a good bartender! Besides, we'd only be renting."

"Harry doesn't have a job."

"He will soon, and anyway, he's independently wealthy, aren't you Harry?"

Harry shrugged and poured himself a cup of pumpkin juice. Ginny looked at him closely. The thought of Harry, as wealthy… he just wasn't. It didn't matter if he was.

"Ginny'll be home to baby anyway, so you don't have to worry about me," said Ron wickedly. Ginny kicked him under the table.

This did seem to calm Molly down a bit, and she smiled indulgently at Ginny. Then she turned to Remus and said, "Yes. Now, Remus, dear, I was meaning to ask you about textbooks."

Remus cleared his throat loudly and looked over at Ginny. Ginny's heart was beating rather frantically in her chest, but she took a deep breath and said, "Actually, Mum, I've been meaning to talk to you about that."

Ron whistled under his breath while Molly looked expectantly at her daughter. "About what? Textbooks? Really?" Molly sounded pleased, "I'm glad that someone in the family has been thinking about their future."

Ginny couldn't help but smile at that. She could use it in the impending argument. She took another deep breath, and went for it. "I am so relieved to hear you say that Mum," she started sweetly, "because Remus has offered to give me lessons this year here at Lupin Lodge, and I know that'll be a burden off of your shoulders because Remus is a trained professor and it's really a wonderful opportunity."

Molly Weasley's face had turned quite pale. She stared at her youngest child in astonishment, and then turned to Remus, still keeping one eye on Ginny. "Now, Ginny," she said steadily, "you don't want to inconvenience Remus. I'm sure he has other things planned for the year, without having to teach you as well."

"Actually, Molly, it would be wonderful practice for me." Remus gave her a disarmingly apologetic smile. "I've been asked to teach at Hogwarts again when it reopens next year, and I'd love the opportunity to teach this year as well. Really, Ginny would be doing me a favor."

Ginny shot a thankful glance at Remus and then turned to look at her mother, who had now stood up and begun to boil more water for tea. She was surprised to see her mother doing it the Muggle way, rather than using her wand.

"Well," Molly finally said, a bit breathlessly, "there it is then. I shall have to discuss it with your father of course. We need to wait for his approval. I'm not sure how he'll feel about you living in a house with four grown men and no other women. Hermione will be gone until Christmas."

Suppressing a giggle, Ginny replied, "Mum, I grew up with Dad and six boys. I think I can handle it. Besides, Ron and Harry are getting a house."

"Well your father hasn't given permission for that either! And Ron might not be in a situation to do anything for quite a while!" exclaimed Mrs. Weasley, slamming the kettle on the stove and turning to glare at Ron.

"I've got nothing to do with this," Ron warned, waving his hands out in front of him.

"Mum, please," Ginny pled, feeling Harry's eyes rest on her, though she wasn't looking at him. "I want to stay. I love home, but… I always went away to school, and I need to be… away at school."

Her mother sniffed. "You do whatever it is that you want to do, Ginny," she said quietly.

Ginny groaned.

"Molly," Remus cut in, walking up to her and looking both nervous and serious. "There's something else you should know. Something that – well, you'll think I'm terribly irresponsible, and you may not want Ginny to stay here after all."

Molly eyed him curiously.

"However, it's fair that you should know," Remus continued, "as it will make you quite proud of Ginny. I do, very much, want to be her professor – but there are other reasons that I would like for her to remain at Lupin Lodge for the rest of the year."

The room went very quiet. Hermione sent Ginny a shining look.

"Yes?" Molly prompted, frowning.

Remus cleared his throat. "She's been able to successfully brew the Wolfsbane Potion," he said slowly. "She administered it to me at the last full moon, and it was perfectly effective."

Mouth hanging open, Molly turned to look at Ginny. "What?" she gasped.

Ginny beamed. She'd never seen her mother look at her in quite that way – not even during the war. "I had help," she began modestly, but her mother cut her off.

"You – the Wolfsbane Potion? Really? But Potions was never one of your good subjects!" Molly looked at once thrilled and terrified.

"I - I know," replied Ginny, giving a little laugh. "I don't know how I did it, but it worked – and oh Mum, Remus will help me study for the Apparition exams and maybe… maybe Dad can clear me to take them early or something – I'm seventeen."

"Your father will not give you special permission to do this or that, simply because he is the acting Minister," Molly began sternly, but stopped at once when Ginny held up a hand.

"Well if he did, I'd be able to come home on weekends, or in the evenings to see you and to help with the baby…" Ginny wheedled. Of course, she could do this just as easily using Floo powder, but decided to conveniently forget about it for the moment. Molly's face went soft again, and she regarded her only girl with evident pride and distress. Ginny tried to fan the pride. "Please let me do this," she begged. "It's the best thing for Remus – and me." She crossed her fingers behind her back.

Molly's eyes were shining brightly, and in one swift movement, she'd gathered Ginny in her arms. "Of course you can stay." Her voice was muffled in Ginny's hair. "I'll fix things with your father! Oh Ginny, I'm so proud of you!"

Ginny let herself cling, for just a moment, reveling in having won her battle. She caught eyes with Harry, who was half-smiling at the two of them as though he was about to laugh.

"Mum!" said Ron, after his mother and sister had collected themselves, "I mastered four new Sobering Charms this week! Aren't you proud of me?" He held out his arms to his mother.

Molly released Ginny and glared at Ron. "Have you seen the Daily Prophet this morning?" she demanded. "If you know what's good for you, you'll start reading some legal books and try to find a way to plead your case. Sirius is much too busy to be taking on this project as well as all his others. Your father says he's doing about a hundred different things at the moment –"

"Sirius is the best one for it," Harry said suddenly, his voice very deliberate and low. Everyone looked at him. Ron gave him a brief smile.

Molly heaved a sigh and turned back to Ginny. "I suppose. But there's nothing we can do about any of that at the moment, so let's go upstairs and try on those robes. No, boys –" she said shrewdly, when Ron and Harry made for the door with the Firebolt between them, "– don't even think of wandering off. You'll need to try yours on as well. Go on, get yourselves upstairs, get them out of your trunks."

Ron rolled his eyes. Harry shrugged. But they both went for the stairs, and Hermione followed, with Ginny at her side. Satisfied that she would get to stay with her friends, and trying not to think too hard about Ron's predicament, Ginny let her mother fuss over her robes and hair, as they all prepared for September first.