Molly Weasley had just about gone spare. The Burrow, always being a perfect model of good housekeeping despite its shabby exterior, was in a state of total disarray. Earlier that day, she'd sent Fred and George outdoors to de-gnome the garden. Mischievous bunglers that they were, they'd left the screen door wide open. The kindly, red-haired matriarch had been resting her weary bones when she'd been knocked out of her chair by a herd of gnarled little men in pointy hats. Needless to say she hadn't been very pleased.

They'd torn through the house faster than she and the twins could remove them, upturning everything in their path. It hadn't been until her two youngest children had returned home that they'd finally been able to expel the last of the creaturesthough Ginny swore up and down that one could still be found in her room, under her bed, giggling away like a naughty schoolboy. Unfortunately for her, none of her siblings quite had the energy needed to climb the stairs at the time being, so she would just have to wait until her father got home. Though who knew what her room would look like by then.

But Ginny's savior came not in the form of Arthur Weasley, but in the form of her brother, Bill. Bill stepped in the front door, intent on heading into the kitchen for a nice cup of afternoon tea, when he stopped cold. Wide-eyed, he surveyed his surroundings with muted disbelief.

Every last picture was tilted at some odd angle or other, and most of the rugs lay crumpled in some random corner. The extra logs stacked by the fireplace were scattered all around the living room, and there were sooty little footprints all around the house, even, strangely enough, up and down the sides of the walls. More peculiar still was the fact that both his pillow and a great many of his possessions lay smoldering at his feetand was that a fork sticking out of his mother's unusually messy hair?

Bill promptly shut his mouth, which had been hanging wide open until then, and slowly inched towards his disheveled family. "What happened here?" He finally croaked, floundering for words like a goldfish. He found it rather difficult to speak properly after all the air had been sucked from his lungs just moments before. "Burglars?"

"No," Ron answered, sounding somewhat glum. His favorite poster of the Chudley Cannons had been ripped right off his wall by those horrid little beasts, and torn to shreds right before his eyes. Never mind that a mere flick of the wand could easily repair his beloved piece of memorabilia. The act had been total sacrilege, and he felt rather obligated to mourn such a serious breach of ethics. Either that or he feared the twins would hide the strips before he could get around to fixing them. "Garden gnomes."

"Garden gnomes!" Bill blinked, clearly not having been expecting that explanation. "Well, I'll be…"

Mrs. Weasley seemed to have snapped out of her daze at last. Looking about at the damage inflicted on her lovely home, it was all she could do not to scream. Instead, she sighed. "Bill," She began, voice absent of its usual conviction. "Take Ginny upstairs, will you? She reckons there's still one in her room. Ronald, I want you to restack those logs for me. Fred, George? You two… Just stay out of my hair." With those words, she began the painstaking process of cleaning up the mess. Even with her wand, it still took ages. She was still finishing up when her husband arrived home.

Arthur knew better than to ask what manner of crazy things had occurred in his absence. Instead, he withdrew his wand from his billowing sleeves and helped his wife clear up the last traces of the mess.

Bill scratched his cheek as he watched his parents quietly converse off to the side of the room. From the heated glares his mother kept sending his twin brothers, it was clear that she hadn't forgotten who was to blame for the gnome's indiscretion. Every now and then, his father would frown, as if receiving a particularly incriminating piece of evidence. After awhile, his mother whisked off towards the kitchen, apparently having been appeased.

Arthur finally got around to removing his hat, which had been sitting rather funnily atop his head for the past few minutes. "Boys," He unknowingly echoed his wife's earlier sigh. "That was very irresponsible of you." And that was all he said on the matter, choosing to head upstairs to drop off his things and change out of his work clothes.

Fred and George had the decency to look ashamed, and Bill had no idea where they got off to after they exchanged glances and shuffled out of sight, leaving him alone in the living room.

Bill plopped down on the couch, burying his face in his hands, massaging his temples, which seemed to have begun pounding the moment he'd arrived home. He was in a bit of a difficult position as of now: between the proverbial rock and a hard place.

It'd been scarcely three weeks since he'd returned from Egypt. His mother had not yet realized that he'd only been planning on crashing at the Burrow for a little while. She appeared as if under the impression that his visit was going to be a little more long-term. Read: permanent.

He'd come home that day intending to tell her that he'd already found a small flat just outside of London. But now, breaking the news after she'd had such a stressful afternoon seemed nothing short of cruel. He had to let her know, though, and soon, at that. The flat was a prime piece of real estate, and it wouldn't be available anymore if he waited around much longer. Seeing as how he couldn't just move out without letting her know beforehand…

He moaned in face of his plight, reluctantly pulling himself up off the couch to answer to the call of dinner. "Wait," He murmured, mahogany orbs narrowing in thought. Dinner! Why, he could break the news then, in neutral company! And so he strolled into the kitchen and sat down at the table with the rest of his family, feeling a little more sure of himself.

The twins were sitting at the far end of the table, he noticed. This was probably a wise move, considering their mother's ire was directed solely at them. Every now and then, the two of them would shoot each other woeful glances, as if they were misunderstood martyrs in some tragic tale. Ron was unusually quiet as well, and kept pushing his food around his plate, making dejected little noises each and every time he would spear one of his carrots, their color perhaps reminding him of what had been ruined. Even Ginny looked on edge, nearly grimacing as she cast her gaze around the table at each of them in turn.

"Err… Mum?" He finally saw his chance, once his father, desperate to keep things civil between them all, had finished telling them all about his day.

"Yes, dear?" Mrs. Weasley regarded her eldest son fondly, shooting him a decidedly indulgent smile. "Did you want another cutlet?"

"Sure, that'd be nice," He agreed readily enough, allowing her to plunk down the piece of meat on his plate before he continued. "But that's not what I wanted to talk to you about, Mum."

His siblings were now paying rapt attention, as if aware of the huge bombshell he was preparing to drop on their oblivious mother.

"Wasn't it?" She murmured absently, taking a sip from her glass and arching an expectant brow.

"Um, no. You see… I'm moving out. Tomorrow, if you don't mind," He added, hastily, upon seeing her open her mouth in protest. "There's this flat I've got my eye on. Just outside of London, it is. Real nice place."

Mrs. Weasley's face had turned a rather violent shade of pink, which contrasted horribly with her hair. "You'll be doing no such thing," She sounded firm, although Bill was of the opinion that she was about to burst into tears. Today had definitely not been a good day for her, that's for sure.



A/N
: Was attacked by this little plot bunny not long after becoming completely and utterly obsessed with Bill/Fleur. I swear to God, I've got some kind of problem. Compulsive fanfiction writing… If only there were some sort of miracle drug. Ah, well. In any case, I'd like to thank several fine people over at the illustrious Fiction Alley for helping me refine this idea; special props go to Emmylou and EllietheElephant. Additional kudos go to my most wonderful friend, Setaro, for trying to help me name this sucker, even if I'm the one who came up with the title in the end.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related characters are the exclusive property of J.K. Rowling.

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