Molly Weasley was seated in front of the fire in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, a mug of tea cradled in her lap. She had been drinking quite ridiculous amounts of tea since Harry and Ginny had gone missing, and it was difficult to break the habit.

Dumbledore's reassurances that the two of them were both safe did little to ease her mind. After all, the man had insisted that Harry had been 'safe' at the Dursley's for ten years of his life, but you could hardly call a suicidal, broken child who lived in darkness safe, could you?

The two people who she was most fiercely protective of were missing, and it was going to take more than an old man's word to convince her that they weren't being decapitated at that very moment.

Ginny had always been the oneshe was most mama-bear like over, and the chamber of secrets incident had convinced her still further that she was still a child who needed protecting.

It was hard to register that the scared little girl had grown into a confident young woman, and if she were truthful with herself, she'd tried to deny it. Molly had hoped that she could have kept her little girl out of this war. But in the end, she had been more deeply involved than any of them could have anticipated.

And Harry… almost from the first time she had met the boy, she'd longed to mother him as he'd never been mothered, to nurture the child that had never fully shone through. One of the happiest moments of her life had been after the Final Battle, when he'd finally opened his eyes and squinted at her. A tear fell down her cheek as she recalled the way he'd looked at her in sleepy confusion, the tone of his voice as he muttered 'Mum?' to her, how she'd shook her head sobbing, and how he'd said, 'Oh. She was here a minute ago, She said to say thank you from her.'

Molly had often wondered if he truly had seen his mother. He'd always insisted that he'd seen and spoken to both his parents. Somehow, it wouldn't particularly surprise her if he had.

With a sigh, she put down the cooled cup of tea and moved toward the oaken kitchen table, picking up stray coffee mugs, parchments and a few of Fred and George's newest products.

She glanced at the top parchment. A bill.

The second was an order form for Madam Malkins.

The third, however, showed just one word, the ink shining as though it were freshly formed.

Mum?

Molly caught her breath. A note, probably, from one of her pack. But the writing was different. Pointed, italic, rather feminine. Ginny's writing.

More words appeared.

Mum, it's Ginny. Write back if you can read this.

Breathing sharply, Molly snatched up the nearest quill and wrote shakily.

Ginny? Is that you?

Once again, black ink flowed as though from an invisible pen onto the page.

It's me mum. And Harry. He's here too.

Her hand trembling, Molly wrote back,

Harry? Are you there, love?

More writing appeared, this time bolder and more firmly formed.

Mrs Weasley, We're both here. And we're OK, don't worry.

Feeling almost indignant, Molly replied;

Don't worry? DON'T WORRY? Two of my children vanish and you send some crazy parchment written from Merlin knows where and you tell me NOT TO WORRY? WHERE ON EARTH ARE YOU?

Once again, Harry's writing.

Uh, it's kind of hard to explain. We'll tell you properly when we get back. It might be better if we tell you face to face. We kind of… invented a spell to put on this so we could set your mind at rest. And it wasn't easy. We should probably have brought Hermione with us.

Ginny's writing again.

We didn't WANT to worry you, Mum.

Hmm, Molly replied, I can believe that Harry didn't want to worry me, but I'm not so sure about you, Ginevra. Now I know that you're far too stubborn to tell me anything about your location, but just tell me two things; are you somewhere safe and are you both wearing clean socks and underwear?

Yep. As far as I know.

Good. You two haven't eloped, have you?

ß

Ginny snorted with laughter at the last sentence to appear on the parchment, and Harry hastily wrote back, 'No, and there's no danger of that happening.'

Ginny scowled at him, her arms folded across her chest.

"I take offence at that!"

"Whatever, Weaslette," Harry drawled back, in a spot-on imitation of Malfoy. After dealing a slap where it was needed, she quickly scrawled on the parchment, 'Mum? Are you still there?

She breathed a sigh of relief when Molly wrote back,

Of cou

However, it looked like Molly hadn't read that last Course I am. I was just calling Hermione, she's been fretting her head off over you two.

Smirking, Ginny wrote, What? Like you, you mean?mment, as her neat, shopping list type writing was replaced by Hermione's tiny, precise script.

Is that you two? Are you really there? Where are you? HURRY UP AND REPLY!

Knowing that it was never a good idea to keep Hermione waiting, Harry hastily scribbled back

'No worries, Herm. We're both here, and we both have all our limbs intact.'

Hmm. Like that's supposed to reassure me. And no worries? NO WORRIES? Merlin, you're lucky that I'm in such a good mood, or I'd have sent you a written hex, despite them remaining uninvented as of yet.

Curious, Ginny wrote;

Erm, do I dare ask why you're in a good mood?

There was a pause before Hermione replied.

Well, you can ask, but I'm not going to tell you. I want to wait until we're all together again. It's big news.

Raising one eyebrow, Harry scrawled, 'What is it? Did you get an interesting new book on goblins, or something equally thrilling?

No.

Taking another guess, Ginny wrote; Have you got a new member of spew, or something?

Both could almost see the indignation in Hermione's writing, and replied,

SPEW, not spew! And no, that's not it.

With a sinking heart, Ginny wrote back,

Oh God, it's happened, hasn't it? You and Ron have done the dirty deed and now you've created a race of super-smart redhead, HAVEN'T YOU?

Ginny and Harry both breathed a sigh of relief when the answer came, rife with disgust,

Ginevra Molly Weasley, that is most certainly NOT it! How dare you? I'm not going to write anymore, there's obviously no point if you're just going to make crude comments. Ronald isn't in, so you can't speak to him, but I'll make him write when I can. I take it this can be used again, can it?

Harry snatched the quill from Ginny and wrote back,

Yeah. Just tap the parchment with your wand and say 'Awaken' and our parchment will shout at us in a rude and obnoxious manner that one of you lot want a chat, and if we can we'll write to you, OK?"

Oh, OK. Well, in that case, if you're both still alive and well, I'll say goodnight.

OK. Night, 'Mione.

Ginny leaned back on the sofa, a satisfied smile on her face.

"They've finally got together, haven't they?"

Harry smirked.

"Clearly. Hermione should be practiced enough in that speech to remember to say 'Ronald and I are merely close friends. Nothing more.' Honestly, for a witch of her intelligence, she can be incredibly obvious."

He'd discarded the enchanted parchment for a lesson plan, which he was scowling thickly over.

"Have never and still don't get the point of these bloody things. Hasn't the board of governors ever heard of the word spontaneous?"

Ginny punched him gently on the arm.

"Not everyone can just stand up and teach a class just like that. We are two of the gifted few."

Harry groaned.

"Why do I have to be so bloody gifted? Sometimes I seriously think it would be total bliss to be Neville. Not that Neville is talentless anymore," he added hastily, thinking of the master duellist and swordsman that the clumsy boy had become. Certainly no match for Harry, but he could make Ginny break a sweat if he tried.

Tossing the lesson plan aside disdainfully, he pulled a stack of first year essays towards him, over which both of them shared a good laugh.

"Picksys are blue and they can be dangerus in the wrong hands, and they corze kayos wenever they can." Harry read aloud, squinting to read the atrocious handwriting. "I swear I wasn't that dim when I was a firstie."

"Maybe they got a bit brighter over the years," Ginny suggested, putting a marked essay onto the stack beside her, "Aaw, look, this one has drawn me a little picture."

She frowned.

"Er, d'you know what it's supposed to be, Harry?"

Harry leaned over to look at it.

"Looks bit like a broomstick. Or a flower. Wait, no, no, it's a teddy bear. I can see the legs."

It was a teddy bear. It was, moreover, a teddy bear with big green eyes and a lightning scar. Harry stared at it, confused.

"Does that mean I'm cuddly? Or furry? Or I have big ears and never wear clothes? What?"

Ginny mused for a second, but then her eyes brightened.

"Ah, I know what it is!" she checked the name of the artist "Mandy Dormfield has a crush on you?"

Harry choked.

"An eleven year old? Has a crush on her Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher?"

Ginny nodded wisely.

"Yep."

"Mandy Dormfield? Has a crush? On me?"

"Undoubtably. It's quite definitely the old drawing-your-teacher-as-a-teddy-bear-on-the-bottom-of-your-essay-that-said-teacher-will-be-marking thing. Quite certainly."

Harry gave an odd growl.

"Marvellous."