'What on earth is this?'

'I don't know. Looks like someone left a really long mop on our furniture.'

'Perhaps we should lock it in the cupboard?'

Harry snored.

Fred laughed. 'The mop appears to be alive.'

'Didn't Dad try and destroy those live mops when we started at Hogwarts?'

'We should tell him that he missed one.'

'Or just put it in the skip that's positioned just outside our window…'

'George - that just might be a brilliant idea.' Fred grinned, and started to yell in Harry's ear 'Oi, mop! What do you think?'

Harry groaned. 'You've lost you subtlety' he muttered, without opening his eyes.

'Your hair needs a cut.' Said George helpfully.

'Thanks.' Mumbled Harry.

'Do you want me to do it?' George offered, still in a helpful mood.

'No.'

Harry heard a strange noise, and felt something light land on his nose…it wouldn't be…no, even Fred and George wouldn't be that cruel…. He opened his nose, and surely enough, George had sprinkled some of Harry's own hair on Harry's face.

'Oh, you two have gone too far…' started Harry, too stunned to finish what he was saying as he tried to assess the damage.

'I don't think so…' started Fred. 'You actually have so much hair that I can't see what George has cut off. It might even be an improvement, that funny bit on the side doesn't stick out as much anymore.'

'I liked that bit!' protested Harry feebly as he fell off the sofa to try and find his glasses and a mirror. But sure enough, he couldn't see a difference. Not one hair was in place, as his hair never was.

Fred and George were out of the door by the time turned around, and glanced at the clock. It was eight in the morning, and he had a meeting with the architect in an hour at his house. He'd better get a move on. Harry left the flat, leaving Ron in bed.

Ron woke up as Harry got into the shower, looked at the clock at swore. He was going to be late for his job. He was junior under-secretary at the Department of Magical Crime; which was actually just a part time position to help fund his auror training. He wanted to be working for the rest of his career doing the kind of stuff that he'd been doing with Hermione and Harry for the past year. He knew that there would be more paperwork in an actual auror's office – but the work would be exciting…hopefully.

Training so far had been quite tame. Lots of lectures about laws and limitations, and the odd bit of catch-up work on basic skills in potions, transfiguration, charms, and defence work. Not to mention the current affairs lectures…just to keep them 'up to speed'. Lots of things that Ron already knew.

He was a kind of minor hero after his part in Voldemort's downfall. The rumours were that he and Hermione were up for Orders of Merlin, First Class, which would be the same as Harry was definitely going to get. He thought that that would be quite cool to start his career with, and definitely hard to beat. But regardless of all that…he was treated like scum, just like the rest of the trainees. Probably more, because he didn't have any NEWTs – he only got on because they needed to fill places and he was physically quite big.

Ron felt grown up. He was dating Hermione (sort of) – but they were taking it extremely slowly. He thought that she was a bit scared of him, but he was starting to get a bit irritated by the lack of speed. Harry had turned out to be quite well adjusted really, after a few months not too long ago where he seemed to be a bit of an obsessed maniac.

If by well-adjusted he meant tearing apart a house with just a little wooden stick… Ron corrected himself. Harry would never be entirely well adjusted, but he wasn't doing badly.

Time went by, and the house was complete. A short period of time, but with magic all jobs are quicker. It was done to Harry's specifications (by and large), and the architect, Mr Morris Jankiss, was happy with the job.

'If you need anything else Harry, don't hesitate to ask.'

'I think that we've finally covered everything Morris. My house looks like it will be very nice to live in. Thank you so much for all of your hard work.'

Harry closed the door on his odd architect and interior designer in one (and what a combination) and surveyed his new house. Floors had been knocked together, and new ones added to make a three-storey house with absolutely huge ceilings on the ground floor. It was indeed modern, with lots of shiny bits, glass, splashes of colour, and extravagant swathes of fabric all over the place – but all in tasteful places.

Harry sat in a big armchair in his sitting room and switched on the television. He relaxed and tried to think of what his next project should be. If he planned to be an auror, then he had missed the start of term and therefore had a few months to kill. He drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair as a popular American comedy came on. Perhaps he could invite a few friends over for drinks? After all, he hadn't spoken to some people from school for over a year, it was about time that he re-established contact.

'Is there something you want to tell me Harry?' Asked Dean Thomas, as Harry showed him around his house.

'Erm, I don't think so. Why?'

'Your house is really nice.'

'Thanks.'

'I mean…a little bit too nice, if you get my meaning.'

'I'm not a mobster.'

Dean smiled. 'I don't mean money…I mean it's a bit tasteful. You know?'

Harry didn't really understand what Dean was talking about. They wandered into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of orange juice. It dawned. 'I'm not gay.'

'That's all I needed to know…we have been friends a long time, I would have been upset if you didn't trust me enough to confide in me.' Harry grinned.

'I promise you that if I ever realise that I am gay, then I'll tell you.'

Dean was only popping in to Harry's house in order to look around, and say hello. It was so easy for friends to lose contact once they left school, so he accepted Harry's invitation immediately. Of course, it didn't hurt his fledgling career as a journalist at 'Witch Weekly' that he was friends with so many quite famous individuals. Or super-famous, in Harry's case. He could now describe Harry's bedroom in detail (but Harry hadn't told him the fact that he nearly got a more risqué bedroom – he knew what Dean's career was).

'Actually Harry, I was wondering if I could have a little interview with you at some stage.'

'Why?'

'Because people want to try and get to know you.'

'I'm really very boring.' Harry assured Dean.

'I know, but the witches of the world think that you're horribly interesting. I have to try and varnish you with some kind of life.'

'I've been sleeping on breezeblocks for months. Is that a life?'

'No girlfriend then?'

'Don't even go there.' Harry said, partly in jest, but also partly serious. He had a policy with journalists and his private life…no one else was involved in an interview apart from himself and the interviewer, regardless of who that was.

Dean laughed. 'Same, same. My girlfriend just dumped me for a man who's at university with her.'

'Bad luck.'

'So you're not with Ginny?' Dean asked, with a slight sharpness present in his tone.

'I'll just say again, let's not go there, ok?' Harry said, all joviality gone. Dean put his hands up in a mock-surrender. With his hands up, he took the opportunity to check his watch as things were getting a little bit awkward.

'Oh, well look at the time. I'd better be heading off. My boss will kill me if I'm late again.' Dean forced out a laugh, and accepted Harry's insincere protests that he couldn't be needed back so soon…but if he really did have to go then there was nothing that he could do about it.

The door closed behind Dean, and Harry was relieved. Dean knew that the little meeting could have been worse. But the day prompted him to think later in the evening about where his priorities really lay – with his job, or with his private life? At the rate he was going, he was going to be single and alone with only a few bye-lines to show for his life…but then again, things always look better in the morning. By then he was happy with his misplaced priorities.

That very same evening that Dean was reconsidering his life, Remus was shifting onto his elbow to try and get into a decent position.

'Why are you always so fidgety in bed?' Tonks asked Remus good-naturedly. She took the opportunity to touch the offending body, to assure him that it was in no way offensive to her.

'I just want to see you better' he said honestly. 'I don't like talking and not being able to see into people's eyes at the best of times.'

'Well, that's fair enough. And you do have very nice eyes, so I don't object at all to you looking at me.'

'You have very…' Remus paused and scrutinised Tonks' eyes. Tonight they were silver, so he continued - 'very interesting eyes. I like them like that – they shine.'

'Mm, glinting in the moonlight.' Tonks smiled. Remus harrumphed. 'Do you ever think…' she stopped.

'Often. It's a very bad habit of mine.'

'I mean, this is very nice and everything' continued Tonks, as if Remus hadn't said anything. 'But I was wondering if you thought about the future…about where we were going.' That was it; she'd said it. There was no taking back the words.

'Yes.'

'You do?' Tonks was surprised, but pleasantly. Remus could actually finally have come around to seeing their relationship from her perspective…or on the other hand he had decided that he had been right all along and wanted to end it right there and then. Perhaps he thought that they had no future after all.

'Of course I do. I see lots of moments like this, just me and you lying here feeling rather like we do now – which is the kind of future I would call perfect.'

'I think that I love you sometimes Remus, maybe just because you can shock me.'

'I think that I might love you for much the same reason.'

Tonks paused. 'But we're far too sweet…. it can't be real. What's going on in the real world? What's actually going on apart from us lying here shocking each other?'

Remus shifted onto his other elbow. 'I went for another drink with Ron and Harry again.' Tonks made an interested noise, prompting Remus to go on. 'Harry said that his house is now wonderful and we all need to see it. Ron sounds like he needs to talk to Hermione, and generally – they sound just like they should at their age. It's really quite refreshing just talking to them.'

'Has Harry spoken to Ginny yet?'

'We shied off the topic. Who knows?'

Horatio reached up as far as he could. He knew that he shouldn't be in this part of the shop, but he couldn't resist it. All of the curtains and signs that said under-age wizards shouldn't go in…it was just a little bit too tempting to a little boy. His fingers could just about curl around the edges of a box, but if he just stood on his toes and stretched a little further…

'I don't think so...' a voice said from nowhere. Horatio turned around…caught, and with nothing to show for his trespass. He swallowed all of the extra spit that he seemed a little bit too aware of right now. Before him stood the mighty figure of a Weasley brother, one of the men that owned the shop, and by legend one of the people in Diagon Alley you did not ever want to get on the wrong side of.

'Is that another one George?' A voice yelled through from the main shop floor.

'Yep…' The man in front of Horatio said, who appeared to be George Weasley. Horatio was a little bit star struck.

'What's your name?' George Weasley asked.

'Horatio.' Croaked the little boy. He had swallowed so much spit that there wasn't enough to immediately lubricate his vocal chords.

'Well Horatio, there is a reason that these products are put behind a curtain. Why we don't let under-age wizards behind here. Could you possibly guess why we would do that?'

Horatio shook his head.

'You're not very imaginative are you?' George said, scowling a little. He had spoken to several children over the past year about breaking shop rules, and a lot of them had exciting excuses or cheeky replies…this one just seemed to insist on standing there dumbly. George sighed. He couldn't really be bothered to elaborate. 'To cut a very very long story short, these are things that could really mess up your life. That box you were trying to dislodge, for example – ' George raised his arm and easily lifted the box off the shelf '-is for turning your hair into any style or colour you want to. It's like being a metamorphagus, but only for your hair, and only a couple of times. But spill it badly, or use it in the wrong way…and well, let's just say that there's potential to destroy a rather useful part of your anatomy…if you know what I mean.'

By the look on Horatio's face, he didn't know what George meant.

'It could…' George paused, trying to think how to re-phrase. He gave up. 'It could hurt. Now get out.'

Horatio nodded and ran into the curtain. His arms floundered with the fabric, before he ran out into the main shop, and straight from there into the street. George emerged shortly afterwards, pushing the curtain to one side as he walked through to join Fred at the till.

'How did it go?' Fred asked.

'Well…he's…out' George said lamely.

'That's a start George, but then we also need to work on getting them to come back into the shop and spend some money.'

'We're doing alright aren't we?' George asked curiously, Fred seemed almost worried about profits – which had never been a problem.

'Yeah we're fine for running one shop, but I think that we need to get some more money in if we're going to carry on with our plan to buy up Zonkos.'

George was silenced. But not for very long. 'We're going to carry on with that? But we can't afford to yet, and Zonko isn't selling right now…'

'Think about it. Our main revenue comes from kids. Kids go to Hogwarts. So during term-time our revenue dips here, but would go up in Hogsmeade. We just need some initial investment and then we'll be rolling in it, able to pay off any investment in months. Zonko makes a lot of money, and we could easily beat him – we have much better stock.'

'I agree with all that Frederick, but where is the initial investment going to come from?'

Fred smiled. 'How about we have a word with our initial investor?'

'Oh no Fred,' George said, 'last time he had spare cash. Now he actually needs some money.'

'So why don't we deal, organise some sort of interest payment? We do owe him anyhow, none of this would have ever been possible without Harry.'

George smiled. 'We should get him in here for a business meeting.'

The twins quickly put together an informal proposal and sent it to Harry by owl. He received it as he was sitting on the floor of his living room with Hermione, both poised over several sheets of paper.

'I don't recognise that owl.' Hermione commented as Harry took the letter off and read it quickly. She watched as his face revealed slight surprise, but he didn't seem to be unhappy.

'Perfect. This answers all of my problems. Well, for the moment at least.' Harry put the parchment on the floor with all of the other scattered documents. Hermione saw that it was Fred and George's headed stationary.

'Well?' Prompted Hermione, after Harry had remained silent.

'It's from Fred and George,' started Harry in the same kind of tone a semi-senile old woman would use which made Hermione smile. 'They say that they need some more funding.' It was all clear to Hermione now. She and Harry had just spent the last few hours trying to work out how on earth Harry was supposed to support himself for the next few years whilst still living the lifestyle that he was becoming accustomed to. Considering that Harry had a fair amount of money, it wasn't too hard to decide that he should invest his money wisely. But choosing where was a bit harder than it first seemed.

'So you want to invest in the Wizarding Wheezes?' checked Hermione.

'Exactly. Fred and George want to have a real business meeting and everything. How cool's that?' Harry had gone from old woman to over-excited teenager in very few seconds.

'Very cool Harry, very cool. But I think that you shouldn't be too generous. There may not be too much choice around right now, but I read in the 'Prophet' a few days ago that the destruction of Voldemort should lead to a lot of new business. People aren't scared any more.' Harry nodded to Hermione's wise words.

'Well, as long as I have enough cash to do whatever I want, I don't really care.'

'But what is it you want?'

Harry flushed very slightly, and paused. He decided to keep his thoughts to himself. 'I don't know.'

Hermione thought that she knew what Harry wanted, but she didn't think that it would be taboo. After all, he was quite open about his feelings towards Ginny last year. What could have changed? In fairness to him, she didn't exactly talk about her feelings towards Ron with anyone. Even Ron. That didn't make any sense, did it? Couldn't lead to a healthy relationship if she wasn't speaking to him. She resolved to have a conversation with the man she considered to be her boyfriend.

The conversation was actually held only a day later, far sooner than Hermione anticipated. Ron had come over to her flat after a tough day Christmas shopping for some sympathy.

'I hate my family.'

'What?' Hermione thought that she'd heard wrong over the sound of the kettle boiling.

'My family is so big that Christmas is a kind of financial massacre. I could actually wring Bill's neck for marrying Fleur, as just because she's…' Ron picked his words carefully, Hermione wouldn't like him commenting on her astonishingly good looks - 'French, she demands the most expensive of anything.'

'So what did you buy her?'

'I doubled up. Presents for Bill are now for the monster known as Billnfleur. They still need things like spare towels, so I bought them some spare towels.' Ron looked quite pleased with this present.

'Well…that's very useful of you.' Hermione poured the water onto the teabags in the teacups and watched colour swirl into the water. 'I don't know whether I should buy them anything.'

'Why should you?' Asked Ron, shocked. 'I just told you how awful it is shopping for them!'

'But…I don't know. I went to their wedding, and your family are so close…'

'I'll put your name on my labels if you want.' Ron offered coyly.

'Say they're from the monster called Ronnermione?' They both smiled.

'Yeah, I think that they'd appreciate that. I quite like sound of it myself,' mused Ron. There was a pause as Ron helped himself to a couple of chocolate digestives. 'I'm really tired.' Said Ron, rather randomly. Hermione waited for elaboration. 'George and Fred come in the whole time really late, always with some giggling females, and then they leave really early. I get woken up by them, and it's tough to y'know, talk to them about it.'

'I can imagine. Who are the giggling females anyway?'

'I have no idea. But I hate them.'

Hermione looked at Ron and thought that she could actually see some bags underneath his eyes. 'Why don't you stay here?' She suggested as innocently as she could. Ron raised his eyebrows.

'That's an idea' he said with a surprising amount of restraint.

'Oh don't be so prudish Ron. You can sleep wherever you want, and I'd be happy to know that you'd be getting a good night's sleep. It would be nice anyway; I hardly ever get to see you. I don't… I don't even know quite where we stand in our relationship anymore.' Hermione stole Ron's biscuit and took a bite. She chewed as Ron responded.

'We're together,' he stated, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. 'But we're not really going anywhere fast are we?' Hermione shook her head. 'Is it annoying you too?' Hermione nodded, and Ron breathed a sigh of relief. 'I thought it was just me!' He grinned. 'I'll move in tomorrow.'

Joy on both sides, how adorable.

The first term of Hogwarts was nearly over. If Ginny had thought that OWLs were bad, then she had really underestimated the NEWT. With fewer subjects, it should be easier, but no. She was quite well organised, but finding time for quidditch, prefect duties, socialising, and getting all of her work done was a challenge that threatened to get the better of her.

But she managed to keep herself happy. She was surrounded by friends and friendly people the whole time, and so wasn't often seen alone.

This morning, Ginny had chosen to eat porridge for breakfast, as it was cold outside and the chill had entered the castle a little. She didn't get to eat much of it, as a large, elderly white bird fell into it.

'Hedwig?' She half exclaimed, half asked. 'What are you doing?' Large amber eyes looked up apologetically. Ginny sympathetically helped Hedwig up, as she wondered what on earth she was doing falling into her porridge. 'Oh look at you, you're a mess!' As she tried to clean Hedwig's feathers, Ginny noticed a note tied to her leg that was addressed with her name. 'Is that a letter from Harry?' Hedwig was preoccupied with eating porridge, so Ginny assumed that it was, and unrolled it.

'Dear Ginny,

I haven't spoken to you for a really long time, and for that I'm sorry. So I thought that I'd make amends and write to you now. How are you? I wondered if you knew the latest bits of gossip from London-way. Ron's moved out of Fred and George's (apparently because of night-time disturbances) and into Hermione's (where I refuse to go for fear of the same disturbances – very disturbing in a very different way).

Remus and Tonks announced that they were thinking about getting engaged the other day, which is a sign of commitment, I suppose. They seem happy about it. Remus looks much healthier too. I reckon that could be because he's coming out with Ron and me more often to the pub. Beer is good for you.

As for me, I'm not doing much at the moment. My house has been done up so that it looks quite nice really. You should come and see it when you're free. Ron told me that you're not going to be at the Burrow for the Christmas holiday so I won't see you then. Maybe some other time?

The house took quite a while to do up, so I missed starting the auror training. I've spent my time having business meetings with Fred and George (have you seen their new premises in Hogsmeade yet? I should probably pop up and see them as I am now officially entangled in their sorry mess of a business). As there's not much to do, I've started to play the guitar. I'm quite good really, for a beginner anyway. Probably something to do with the fact that I have lots of time to practise.

I hope that NEWTs aren't too bad. I can't offer any words of advice considering that I skipped them, but still, I hope that you aren't having too many problems.

With Love,

Harry'

Not a bad letter, she thought. It was a start, and she hadn't had to write to him first. Plus, he did sign it off with love. She did actually know a few bits of the news. Her Mum was not happy about Ron and Hermione's little arrangement – but Fred and George being naughty too? That was blackmail material. Nobody had told her about Harry finding his musical side. She stifled a giggle. It just sounded a little ridiculous really.

Ginny pulled out her timetable to make sure that she made time to write a reply tonight.

The old saying goes that time flies when you're having fun. True as that may be, time also flies when you're not doing very much. Before you know it, the holidays are over, you've started work, and then you realise that you haven't accomplished very much in a very long time span.

After the Christmas holidays were over (very quickly, of course) everybody went back to their normal timetables. Fleur Weasley didn't have a normal timetable, as she was trying very hard to set up a house for herself and Bill in the depths of Shropshire – an English county very full of beautiful countryside.

Bill came home from work (the commute from London isn't so bad if you can apparate) one evening to find Fleur in the kitchen putting something dubious into the saucepan. Unfortunately, this wasn't a very rare event.

'What's that?' He asked, sneaking up behind his wife. She jumped a little.

'Oh Bill, you scared me!' She turned her neck and kissed him. 'It ees a little sumthing my muzzer taught me over ze telefon.' She was grinning more than was ordinary.

'Why on earth were you on the phone to your Mum today?' Bill and Fleur had been to Fleur's family house near Marseilles for Christmas. Bill and Fleur's didn't really get along – but no one could quite pin it down. It might have been her custom of scowling every time his name was mentioned, or her little habit of 'forgetting' that he was there. But Bill refused to say, and Fleur's mother…well, the less said about her in front of Bill, the better.

'I 'ad sum news.' Bill made noises that indicated he was interested. 'I am pregnant Bill.' She burst out. He froze.

'For real?' He said, a little bit stunned…but very very happy. He didn't even know why, he hated babies! But hearing Fleur say that she was pregnant, and that she was so happy to be carrying his baby filled him with joy.

'Oui, for real.'

He kissed her. What else could he do? Such a strange bit of news…

Later on they established that she was already three months pregnant, so they only had to wait until September for the birth of the little Weasley.

'Do you think that baby will be the first red-headed veela?' Pondered Bill in bed that night. But Fleur was already asleep.

A natural ending I think.

Thank you to all who reviewed the last part, I enjoyed reading them very much. It's true – they are an encouragement of the best kind. Tell me if you enjoyed this part too.

-EliCa