A/N: Surprised? Me too. This is also crossposted to Ao3 so choose your weapon.


With her mother due to turn up in the next week, Zinnia upped her efforts with packing down Auntie Rose's house.

Luna came back again on the Tuesday along with Hermione.

Hermione's mission was apparently book rescue.

"I can't believe that you were just going to throw these all out!" Hermione exclaimed, standing protectively in front of the shelves as though Zinnia were about to throw the contents into the nearest rubbish bin.

"Donate them," Zinnia corrected, leaning back amusedly against the doorframe. "I was going to figure out who might want them, and then donate them."

Hermione shook her head, causing her bushy hair to fly about almost comically. "Don't you know how rare some of these books are? Not to mention dangerous! You can't just…" the lecture continued, but Zinnia tuned her out in favour of eyeing Luna suspiciously.

Luna smiled angelically and proceeded to wander faux-aimlessly up and down the shelves, taking out books in an order that Zinnia suspected only appeared to be random while Hermione was distracted with her rant.

"So Hermione is here to ensure I don't let any unqualified non-bibliophiles touch Aunt Rosie's precious collection, what are you here for?" she asked when Hermione finally wound down and flounced off.

Luna smiled enigmatically. "Oh, I thought I might step in before the Papyrus Wigglers got too enthusiastic and devoured everything."

"Uh huh," said Zinnia, rolling her eyes. She knew a covert reference to bookworms when she heard one. "I just bet you did."

In the end though, Zinnia let the two young women have their way. It was definitely quicker than investigating just where she could have disposed of books full of obscure languages and obscurer references. Zinnia had picked up a few and discovered much to her horror that though a quick perusal made it clear that they were written about magic, the authors had terrible handwriting and worse prose. The volume marked Basic Transfigurations For Fun and Profit had somehow managed to be both dryer than Uluru and somewhat alarming once she figured out that magicians apparently cared not a whit for conservation of mass, and that was before she found out about the human scarecrow.

It was enough for Zinnia to firmly decide that she wasn't going to be messing about with this stuff. From her conversations with George and Charlie she had figured out that there was some kind of magic school with a silly name where all the kids went to get trained before they were allowed to practise magic unsupervised. On the off chance that Zinnia managed to make anything work, (and from what her mum had said it sounded like it wasn't a talent many people had all things considered,) the consequences might range from interesting to bloody scary.

Not exactly something Zinnia she should experiment with on her own.

Soon enough, Hermione was chanting something and waving her wand and entire shelves worth of books were floating gently through the air to stack themselves in the packing boxes Zinnia had managed to scrounge from the back of the grocer's.

Luna took a more chaotic approach, and had a couple of books following her through the air like a set of bobbing balloons.

It was the most surreal thing Zinnia had ever seen, and the most surreal was how matter of fact the two of them were over the whole thing. The young women treated the whole show as though it were normal boring packing.

Seeing that a job that she had been certain would take her the better part of the week was now going to be over with in less than a few hours, Zinnia decided to go and make some tea for them all.

Deftly dodging around Ichabod, (who in typical cat fashion took the opportunity to attempt to twine about Zinnia's ankles the second she entered the kitchen,) Zinnia put the kettle on, and pulled three mismatched mugs from the cupboard. She made up a pot of her energy blend, which had a little dried orange peel with lemongrass, tumeric and cinnnamon along with black tea leaves, and was just letting it steep when there was a knock at the door.

"Door's open!" Zinnia called out, and two figures stepped through. The shrimpier one with the halo of bedhead she had met before- Harry gave her a shy smile as he adjusted his badly-sized glasses frames. The taller one however was a redhead she had yet to meet.

Going purely by recent statistics and the fact that his nose looked very similar to his brother George's, Zinnia was going to assume that he was yet another Weasley.

"Hello there," Zinnia said, "I was just putting on some tea. It's my own blend, but if you end up not liking it I've plain black in the cupboard too that I can make up. Did either of you want a cup?"

"Yes, please," said Harry.

The other young man studied Zinnia a little suspiciously. "What's in it?" he asked.

Zinnia reached back into the cupboard, and then passed over the jar. "See for yourself, I've labelled it to remind myself, I'm pretty sure there aren't any common allergens but you never know I suppose."

"Aller-whats?" the redhead said. He skimmed the label, and then snorted. "Oh. This will barely do anything, you didn't even put in any Plangentine flower in it."

Harry turned to look askance at his friend. "Since when could you tell what's in potions just by looking at the ingredients, Ron?"

The redhead, Ron apparently, turned an awkward shade of mauve. "Helping out at the joke shop is a bit more motivating than Snape's class ever was," he muttered. "And trust me, after you've been exposed to George's idea of cooking you learn to check everything for possible interactions."

"Ah," said Harry, as though this explained everything.

Zinnia decided she didn't feel the need to ask, and shrugged in response to Ron's implied question. "It's not supposed to do much, the point is for it to taste nice more than anything else."

Ron smirked. "Yeah, that makes sense." He raked one hand through his hair, and the cuff of his sleeve rode up slightly, revealing a spiralling scar on his forearm, as though a whip had coiled around it.

More and more, Zinnia wondered what kind of hell these kids (and really, under the trauma and the forced maturity, she could see that they were definitely only barely out of highschool,) had been through during their covert war.

(More and more, she was starting to realise that she honestly really didn't want to know.)

Zinnia picked up the teapot in one hand, and three of the mugs. "Could you boys carry your own cups? I don't have enough hands," she said.

Ron frowned. "Why don't you just use your wand?"

"Oh my god Ron!" Hermione scolded from the other room. "You can't just ask someone why they don't use their wand!" She came barrelling around the corner, two thick leather-bound volumes tucked under one arm. "Would you have asked Neville that?"

Ron flushed again. "Yeah, but witches are better at this sort of domestic magic usually," he said defensively.

Hermione's eyes flashed, and Zinnia could have sworn she saw a miniature lightning bolt crackle through her hair. "What is that supposed to mean?" she asked, voice dangerously soft.

Zinnia watched, mildly entertained at the drama unravelling, and noticed that Harry had stepped smartly out of the firing line. Ron opened his mouth, clearly thought better of whatever he was about to say, and closed it again, clearly searching for something safe to say with the air of a man who knew he had screwed up but was not entirely sure how.

Zinnia might have let them have it out, but decided that if she let them do that the tea would get cold.

"Hermione, could you see if you can find a good jam in the pantry?" she said, interrupting Hermione before she could wind up properly for her tirade. "I bought some scones in the village yesterday and they should still be good, but I think a little jam would make them really go down a treat. Maybe apricot, or marmalade?"

Hermione, surprised by the sudden request, paused, and the odd feeling of sharing a room with a thundercloud diminished. "Of course, Zinnia," she said. She shot Ron an obvious warning glance, and stomped off.

Zinnia levelled an amused look in Ron's direction and he had the grace to wince.

"Sorry," he said.

Zinnia shrugged. "No worries," she said, and stepped into the other room to see what was keeping Luna.

Apparently bored of the aerial book display, Luna had stacked most of her finds into a pile and was perched on top of them, reading another. She looked up, the sun from the window catching her nimbus of blonde hair.

"Oh, is that more of your tea?" Luna chirped. "Yes, I'll have some, it'll be quite the thing for clearing out the dallymites."

"The what now?" Zinnia asked, as Ron rolled his eyes and Harry leaned forward in anticipation.

"Dallymites," Luna explained. "They cause feelings of lethargy after a long morning of cleaning."

"Ah yes, of course," said Zinnia. "I imagine the fillyshubs are having a good time with all this dust we've kicked up as well."

Luna beamed. "Oh I knew I liked you," she said.

"Fillyshubs?" asked Harry in the tone of someone feeding a straight line.

"They ride on dust motes," Zinnia and Luna said in unison, which made Ron choke on nothing, and Harry attempt to hide a grin at both reactions.

From the doorway came a scoff, and Hermione marched in bearing a jar of raspberry and orange jam.

"You know those aren't real, right?" she said.

Zinnia frowned as Luna's expression suddenly became significantly more vague. She touched the young woman lightly on her diaphanous-sleeve covered arm, and then stepped away.

"Thanks for finding that jam for us Hermione," Zinnia said. "If you set that down here on the table, could you help me carry in the plates for the scones?"

Hermione let herself be chivvied out of the lounge room, accepted the plates that Zinnia dug out of the kitchen cupboard. She was a little surprised however when Zinnia held up a hand to stop her from immediately rejoining the others.

"Don't worry, this'll just take a second," Zinnia said quietly. "I just wanted a quick word, if you don't mind?"

Hermione frowned, holding the plates. "What?" she demanded.

"Hermione," Zinnia said slowly, "did that feel good?"

Hermione, apparently not expecting this conversational tack, faltered. "What do you mean?"

"When you scoffed at Luna and I talking about the fillyshubs. Did that feel good?" Zinnia asked her.

Hermione's frown deepened. "What's that got to do with anything?" she asked. "There's no proof they exist! No reputable compendium of magical creatures has an entry on them, or any of the other animals Luna likes to talk about. Only the Quibbler, and her," Hermione visibly bit off an adjective, "father is the one who publishes that nonsense magazine!"

Zinnia shrugged. "So what?" (Frankly, Zinnia had no frame of reference to fact check either side, but that was beside the point she wanted to make.)

Hermione looked as though she wanted to throw up her hands, but they were full of plates. "What do you mean, 'so what?'"

"Is it very important whether or not fillyshubs exist?" Zinnia asked. "Is Luna trying to hurt anyone by saying there are little dustmite fairies or whatever?"

"No," Hermione admitted begrudgingly after a moment. "But you have to understand, Harry and I, we grew up in non-magical households. It's all very well and good for Luna, who was born in the Wizarding World, to make up creatures and believe in them, but if Harry or I start talking about them then we'd be ridiculed."

Zinnia sighed. "Take it as read that I know what it's like to grow up non-magical," she said dryly.

"Oh, right," said Hermione, belatedly remembering their conversation from the previous week about non-magical things they liked. "Well then you should know what it's like!"

Zinnia shrugged, considered how to word her advice, and decided to go for maximum irony. "Something I learned when I was only a little older than you," (Zinnia was pretty sure she was within five years of Hermione's age, that counted,) "is that I don't always know what I don't know. You know, like before you discovered that magic existed. You didn't so much as suspect that there was an entire society living under your nose with its own culture and way of living."

Holy shit was Zinnia herself feeling that vibe lately herself.

Hermione bit her lip as she parsed that. "That's true, but-"

"And I can't say I've known Luna as long as you, but do you think she's trying to set you up for failure like that?" Zinnia added. "Do you think your other friends would give you a hard time for entertaining the idea that she might be trying to make some kind of point?"

"Well Ron might, but… what kind of point could she be trying to make?" Hermione asked, clearly flummoxed at the very idea. "What's the point of making up creatures?"

Zinnia tilted her head to one side. "Have you ever tried asking?" she said.

The silence that followed was as clear an answer as Zinnia could have asked for.

"Think about it," Zinnia advised. "And maybe next time you feel the need to shut down a silly conversation, consider how to do it a little more kindly? I think you might have hurt Luna's feelings."

"Oh," said Hermione in a small voice.

Zinnia slowly reached out, and then gently squeezed her shoulder. "I'm sure your intentions are good, but I'm equally sure that it's no fun having to be right all the time, is it?"

Hermione stared at her. "H-how?"

Zinnia smiled sadly. "How do I know? Because I did something similar once. It's nice and affirming when you are right, of course, but it's fucking stressful trying to keep that illusion going, because you start to feel like you can't look vulnerable and make mistakes or ask for help. No one is right all the time, and that's okay. You'll be okay if you stuff up every once in a while. Your friends will also be okay."

Hermione put the plates down, and burst into tears.

"Fuck," Zinnia said, flailing. She hadn't realised just how close to the edge the younger woman must have been to react like that. "Sorry, did I go too far, was that- shit." She stepped back. "Did you want me to get someone? Did you want a hug? Did you want me to get someone to give you a hug?"

Was it just her or were there a hell of a lot of cathartic releases of emotions happening in this house?

"Hermione!"

Zinnia found herself practically shoved into the corner of the kitchen as Hermione's friends barrelled in, quickly bracketing the sobbing girl.

Wait, hell, how old were these kids even? They had all seemed so self-possessed, but looking at Hermione breaking down, Zinnia was suddenly struck by the realisation that they might not even be legal to drink.

"What the bloody fuck did you say to her?" Ron demanded, drawing a stick from his sleeve and pointing it at Zinnia.

Harry was less immediately aggressive, but he too had a look in his eye like he would like an explanation and quickly, or heads were going to roll.

Zinnia raised her hands defensively. "I didn't mean to upset her like that. I am sorry, Hermione," she repeated herself.

"No, it's alright," Hermione sniffled. "Just…" she shook her head, and almost smiled. "It's been a long time since it's been alright for me to 'stuff up' as you say. With the war, if I made one mistake, if I couldn't find one answer…" she trailed off meaningfully, and the Harry's grim expression at least softened into understanding. (Interestingly, Ron suddenly looked deeply ashamed, but if there was ever a time for Zinnia to ask about that, that time was not now.) "So it's less what you said, and more that I realised that you're right, and thank Merlin."

Ron's arm dropped, and Harry awkwardly looped an arm over Hermione's shoulders.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ron asked after a moment. "You're Hermione Granger, the Brightest Witch of our age, you're never wrong."

Hermione chuckled wetly. "I wish that was true," she said.

There was a long and awkward pause, as Hermione tried to get her composure back, and the boys tried to figure out whether they should apologise for practically coming in wands blazing.

Fortunately, Luna popped her head in then, the bottlecap earrings she was wearing that day chiming merrily.

"Did you all get distracted by Tawny Folgers? I thought we were going to have tea?"

That neatly popped the tension like a balloon, and a few minutes later, all five of them were sitting on the sofas, sampling the jam and scones.

"Huh," said Ron. "I didn't think I'd ever get to try Ms Fawcett's jam again. Not since she banned us all from the house after…" he trailed off as the others in the room started looking up at him in interest.

"Go on then," Harry prompted, his smile knowing and a little sad, "what did Fred and George do?"

Ron shut his mouth and shook his head, but to everyone's apparent surprise, Luna snorted.

"They got the blame, but it wasn't them, was it Ron," she said.

Ron shook his head, and sucked in his lips as though it would hold in his confession.

"Ginny told me," Luna continued baldly.

Ron's mouth dropped open.

"That conniving-! She promised she wouldn't tell!"

Zinnia paused in taking a sip from her lukewarm tea. "Who's Ginny again?" she asked.

Ron looked to her, surprised. "My little sister. You haven't met her yet? She's still living at home."

Zinnia shrugged. "I've met you and two of your brothers, and your parents, I've got a vague idea that there are a few more of you."

Harry smirked a little at that and Hermione sighed.

Ron raked his fingers through his hair and sighed. "In my defense," he said, "I was six."

"That's a funny way of pronouncing ten, Ronald," Luna said innocently, and Ron glowered at her.

"What did you do?" asked Zinnia, entertained by the byplay.

Ron sighed. "I might have…" he mumbled something.

Everyone else in the room leaned forward.

"I couldn't quite hear that Ron," said Hermione.

Ron sighed. "I might have fed her kneazle some ice-mice," he admitted.

"Ron, you didn't!" said Hermione, hands over her mouth.

Harry's brow creased thoughtfully and then he snapped his fingers. "Yeah, Honeydukes sell them don't they, wait, don't they…" he trailed off, and then gaped. "Uh. I can't imagine the kneazle liked that, huh."

Zinnia just frowned, seeing as she knew neither what an ice mouse nor a Neezal was supposed to be.

"Someone explain?" she said plaintively.

"Oh right, Australian," said Ron. "Well, ice-mice are sweets and uh…" he winced. "How angry would you be if I fed something to Ichabod that made his teeth chatter and squeak?"

"Oh I'd be ropeable," said Zinnia pleasantly without missing a beat. "Was the... Neezal okay?"

"Oh she was fine, the effect wears off after about fifteen minutes," said Luna. "But Ms Fawcett said the next time she saw red hair on her property she was going to make herself a wig and well… none of the Weasley kids could tell if she was joking or not."

Zinnia snorted. "I'd have doubted she was serious, but on the other hand the 'scarecrow' removed from the garden last week is evidence that Auntie Rosie was not someone worth crossing."

Ron nodded. "She was dead scary. Almost as scary as Hermione."

"Ron!" Hermione shoved his shoulder, causing him to fumble his tea and slop it into his lap.

"It was a compliment!" Ron insisted while trying to mop up the spill by twirling his wand, while Harry laughed, Luna smiled beatifically, and Hermione dodged the miniature tornado of tea.

Zinnia watched the byplay, sipping her tea. She was glad to see them all enjoying themselves. She got the feeling that they didn't often relax around strangers, so in a way it was an honour to be counted as someone who they were less defensive around.

On the other hand…

A thought that she had had earlier was beginning to disturb her, and Zinnia didn't know what to do about it. Zinnia knew she was personable, but she wasn't that charming.

Why were all these people having cathartic conversations with her lately?

And was it voluntary, or not?


Notes: Hi, so you may have noticed that it's been a long time since I updated. There's a couple of reasons for that. The first was writer's block. Then came the 2019/20 bushfires in Australia and I was under a lot of stress. Then came this little thing you might have heard of called a global pandemic. Weirdly* it didn't make me feel like working on much of my writing. *not really weird at all a lot of people don't feel creative when dealing with anxiety. And then I got pregnant. I now have a beautiful toddler. I love her a lot, but also this is the most well rested I've been since 2020. So I decided to finish this just to give Zinnia, a character I happen to like, a satisfactory end.

There will be trans inclusive world building in this story to make me feel better about writing in this fandom post TERFgate. If you have a problem with that kindly fuck off now, I'll delete all nonsense without interacting.

Incidentally as I said I'm also posting this on Ao3 and chapters will appear there first. Use that information or don't, your call.

As always chapters will show up with no warning and via no discernable outside pattern. Take care all of you and thanks to the people who have left me reviews since I started writing this story years