Chapter Twelve

The normally boisterous sound of children playing with the test products on the main floor of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes was absent. While George locked up the shop, Hermione fretted over the bow on one of Fleur's baby shower gifts in his office. She had been adamant that she could get it to stand proudly without the aid of magic but as one loop submitted to her will, another crumpled in defiance. Sighing in defeat as once again the whole thing collapsed into a depressed heap of pink ribbon, she picked up her wand and charmed the difficult trimming into tying itself. Nodding her head as it unraveled and re-knotted itself into picture perfect perky fullness, she stacked it on top of the others that awaited her departure on the desk.

The celebration for little Victoire wasn't for several more weeks but as it had been with their wedding, Molly had insisted Weasley family traditions be maintained and the event hosted at the Burrow. As such, she wanted to be prepared and arrive at the roast with her gifts in hand just in case the woman's hidden vindictiveness reared its ugly head. After all, it wouldn't be beyond the realm of possibility for Mrs. Weasley to conveniently lose her invitation to the shower once she had split from Ron.

"Don't you think that's a bit excessive?" George asked, flicking his wand at the last of the windows making the shutters clap closed.

"You're joking, right? Have you met your mother? Or better yet, do you not recall how she treated me when she thought I tossed Harry aside for Viktor?"

"Okay yeah, that was a bit petty."

"Petty?" She repeated incredulously. "It was down right immature; and that was only Harry! Oh, and what about the litter of kneazles she birthed when Harry told Ginny there would be no them because he was with Pansy? Or when news of their marriage broke? And you can't forget her reaction to the announcement of their pregnancy. She acted like they intentionally got pregnant just to upstage Fleur - who by the way, I'm pretty sure she still doesn't like.

"So no, I don't think it's excessive. I think it's very much needed in this situation because unlike Harry with Ginny, I am in fact dumping one of her kids for someone else - her ickle Ronniekins in fact."

Putting up his hands in surrender, George conceded, "You're right, you're right; my mother can be quite hostile and unnecessarily spiteful. But don't worry Hermione, Forge's got your back." Affectionately bumping her shoulder as he walked by to collect her stack of presents, he jested, "Now come on, you've got a keeper to exchange for a chaser. One more trade out and you'll have the whole collection of professional positions."

"Oh piss off!" She laughed good naturedly, throwing a small rubber ball at his back as he ascended the spiral stairs that led to what was once his and Fred's loft. Instead of making contact with his shoulder blades, the ball erupted into a shower of glitter that rained over her head. "Ugh, fantastic," she groaned, trying to remove the sparkling mess from her hair and clothes only for the action to collect what had landed on the floor and deposit it onto her as well.

"Fred created the charm work for those," he smiled as he readied the floo for their trip. "The effects initially last for only three hours but the time doubles with each attempt to remove it."

"George!" She yelled as the hearth lit with bright green flames and sucked him up the chimney the moment he had called out for the Burrow.

Ducking into the floo, she followed him, leaving London behind for Ottery St Catchpole. Tripping over the unnecessary lip the Weasleys' floo had as she stepped out, she leveled her wand at George and shot him with a jinx. Smiling as if she were a cat and he the canary she had just caught, she happily siphoned the soot from her clothes and skin before tucking her wand back into the pocket that was hidden within her white lace shorts. Her smile only grew in deviance as George made the first scratch along the inside of his arm, the itch jumping to a new spot just as the first abated.

"It'll last as long as this lasts," she explained. "Fix it and I'll lift it."

"Not on your life," he rejected gleefully as he started to itch his shortened red hair.

"Suit yourself," she shrugged, removing her sunglasses from the top of her head to fix them onto her face before collecting the presents and gliding proudly out of the Burrow into the garden. "Just remember, the price'll have gone up though when you decide you're ready for surrender."

On the lawn, Bill and Arthur were slowly expanding the outdoor dining table while Audrey - Percy's longtime girlfriend from the Ministry - worked with Fleur on duplicating the chairs. In the distance, two shocks of ginger hair were erecting six goalposts while several brooms hovered in the center of the makeshift pitch. Music from the wireless drifted out from an open window where dishes were sending themselves to the sink for washing and spoons stirred various pots on the cook top all while Molly bustled around the kitchen. With George laughing at her back as he stopped every few steps to itch another spot on his body, the entire Weasley clan was accounted for with the exception of Ron.

Typical, she silently sighed, approaching Fleur and Audrey.

Greeting both witches warmly, she set the presents down on one of the duplicated chairs. Stepping up to hug Audrey first, she halted as the witch's brow rose in question, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

"Have a run in with George?" She giggled, unable to hold back her laughter any longer.

"I made an ammature's mistake but something tells me he'll relent soon and reverse it for me," she said, over at George who was using his wand to reach his back while his free hand aggressively scratched at his chest.

"You have got to tell me how you made this work!" He called. "Each itch is worse than the last. It's magnificent!"

"Not on your life!" She parroted before joining the other two in their laughter.

Turning to Fleur, she asked, "How are you doing? Pansy is all but ready to serve an eviction notice on her baby despite still having about nine or eleven weeks to go."

"I'm not there just yet," the beautiful blonde answered, her thick French accent having faded significantly in the seven years they had known each other. Glancing at the frilly pink bags bursting with iridescent tissue paper and stacked boxes, she correctly guessed the reason for their presence and said, "I see the 'trouble in post war paradise,' has remained."

"I never should have gotten back together with him."

"So are the lessons of youth and healing," Audrey responded sagely, her words as poignant as Luna's or Viktor's but spoken in a no nonsense sort of way that made her a great match for Percy. "The important thing is that you recognize your mistake and are working towards correcting it. Relationships are hard work but they shouldn't be exhausting and they shouldn't bring out the worst in you. Though he may not deserve it, you both will be better off in the long run by going your separate ways."

"Yeah, I think we will be," Hermione agreed. "I never noticed just how taxing it was and I can't be the only one who feels the strain and the stress of having to be this perfect, golden couple."

"Well actually you might be," Fleur commented, her lip curling as she looked back to the Burrow. "Because unlike Ronald, you've not been gallivanting around Spain for the last two weeks."

Following the witch's bright gaze, she saw Ron had finally arrived and was carrying a large plate while floating several other platters ahead of him towards the table. His hair was somehow even more garish than it had been the last time she had seen him, his freckles darker, and his skin splotched with various shades of pink and red as layers of repeated sunburning healed. He looked as if he didn't have a care in the world as he deposited the abundance of food on the picnic table before heading off to the makeshift quidditch pitch his sister and second eldest brother had just finished building.

If she had possessed even a sliver of doubt about ending things once and for all with him, watching his easygoing, carefree attitude after spending two weeks spiraling with anxiety over his whereabouts and safety would have zapped it right out of her. How she had tolerated his blatant disregard and all around lack of respect for her and their relationship for so long was beyond her. She didn't even care about the news that Fleur had known where Ron had disappeared to or that it meant that Molly had once again been manipulating her into extending attachment to her son. If anything, it served to drive her towards her ultimate goal for the evening much faster.

She had wanted to enjoy the roast and the company of the Weasleys for as long as possible knowing this would probably be the last time she was included in one of their family gatherings. However, the habitual struggle for acceptance was one she no longer wished to engage in. Even now, she, Fleur, and Audrey were on the fringes of the family instead of immersed in the dynamic. And there wasn't a shadow of a doubt in her mind that it was a place they would always find themselves. Because as wonderful as Bill was and as Percy grew to be, all five of the boys routinely regressed to being attached to their mother's apron strings when in her presence - Ron being the worst in the bunch, never fully letting go no matter how far away he was from Molly.

It seemed Luna's prediction about living in Falmouth was true. Hermione had once thought this was the family and life she had wanted for herself but the further removed she became, the clearer her mind was. It was as if her brain had been cloudy and muddled for the last ten years and only now was she beginning to recognize and remove the veil that had shrouded her from the truth. Molly offered her no place in her family and after fighting a war so that she could be given the same rights within the Wizarding World as those born with a magical lineage, she didn't want to have to fight for someone's love too. Nor did she want to fight for a wizard who saw her as little more than an accessory to be brought out only when an audience was present or he had an itch to scratch. Even without Marcus, she knew she was worth more than that. It had taken her longer than she wanted to admit to be ready to fully immerse herself into the new life she was building post war but now that she was, she saw no reason to linger on the last page of a now outdated chapter in her life.

Hugging Fleur around her belly and squeezing Audrey's hand, she bid them each goodbye with promises that they would get together for lunch soon. Then with her spine set like steel and a purposeful stride, she began to cross the yard set on reaching the back garden pitch before Ron tapped off the ground. She hadn't gotten far though when she was intercepted by Molly who was coming out to join the rest of her family, several more serving bowls and platters whizzing off to join what had already been delivered.

She silently groaned as the woman commanded more than asked, "Oh good you're here; let's sit at the table and have a chat, hmm?"

"Mrs. Weasley, I really should speak with Ron," she said in a futile attempt to extract herself.

"Oh nonsense, let him enjoy his time with his siblings. We haven't seen Charlie since Christmas and he missed the last two family dinners what with his stag trip to Ibiza and all that."

"Ibiza, really?" Hermione challenged, unable to prevent the tone that was coloring her voice. "Because when I asked if you knew where he was, you told me you hadn't the foggiest. In fact, every time I asked you that was your answer."

Waving her words to the side, Molly dismissed, "Just a little white lie I felt was necessary. Talking with you would have brought to light that whole sordid business you had going on with that boy, Flint. Ron really didn't need to be brought down by such news. Especially since you seem to have come to your senses and ended things." Reaching out to take her hand, Mrs. Weasley pulled her over to a chair and none too gently pushed her into it. With a low, conspiratorial tone, she whispered, "Don't worry dear, now that you've tamed your need for a bit of excitement and revenge, it'll be our little secret. We can just pretend nothing ever happened."

Snatching her hand back, she snapped, "There's nothing to keep secret and no reason to pretend like everything is alright. It is not alright, Mrs. Weasley." Standing up, she sternly continued, "Now if you'll excuse me, there's an issue between your son and I that needs my attention."

"I'm thinking mid to late August for the wedding. It's close to Fleur's due date, but I don't think she'd mind. Of course it won't leave much time for a honeymoon but those sorts of things can always be postponed. What do you think?" Molly inquired as if she hadn't spoken.

Suppressing the urge to scoff and roll her eyes, she responded, "I think August would be an absolutely atrocious time of year to have an outdoor wedding. But why don't you ask Audrey since it'll be her day." Regardless of how much you try to make it about you, she silently tacked on.

Turning away to head for Ron so she could pull him aside and at least attempt to severe things privately, she found him and the rest of Weasleys joyfully approaching the table, the siblings ribbing each other over the coming pickup quidditch game. It was Mrs. Weasley's words though that had her drawing up short, her own words for her one time friend dying in her throat.

"Why would I ask Audrey's opinion about a date for your wedding?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch that. Whose wedding?" She asked, seeking clarification because surely her hearing had gone wonky.

"Yours and Ron's of course," she smiled. Standing up and rubbing her bare arms with her hands, Mrs. Weasley leaned in and quietly asked, "Are you feeling quite well?"

Oh baby Merlin, she meant he was away for his stag do!

At the clarified thought, laughter started to bubble up within her and first escaped in a soft hiss of breath through her nose. From there, it turned into a quiet chuckle that pulled at the corners of her mouth. Then upon seeing the seriousness with which Molly Weasley was looking at her, Hermione erupted into full hysterics that quickly left her gasping for breath. The idea of her marrying Ron was absolutely ludicrous. She had always known his mother was rather controlling, and in recent years had become acquainted with how manipulative she could be, but this was certifiably insane and once she had started laughing she couldn't stop.

In trying to compose herself, she made the mistake of looking at George. Between his continuous itching and choking back his own laughter at the outlandish idea, she devolved even further. Pointing at his mother, she wheezed, "Can you believe this? She thinks, she thinks I'm going to marry your brother."

"Stop, stop!" He guffawed, finally losing his own battle with self control. "It just gets funnier each time I hear it."

"I don't see what's so funny," Ginny snapped, her face pinched in a mirror image of her mother's, both of them looking as though they had smelled something foul.

Wiping mirth-filled tears from her eyes as she tried to regulate her breathing and smother her laughter, Hermione said, "Of course you don't and frankly that's part of the problem." Directing her attention to Ron, she asked, "May I speak with you, alone."

"And what problem exactly are you speaking of?"

"The one where you and your mother seem to think that once one of you have decided something, the rest of us should fall into line with your wishes and completely disregard our own," she glared, sobering up instantly.

"That's not fair," she objected, the Prewett fire flaring to life in her eyes. "He said he loved me! We were a couple before he left with you!"

"Harry didn't leave with me, Ginny. We went on the run. In case it has slipped your mind in the intervening four years, we were Undesirable Numbers One and Two. Staying would have meant certain death for him and Merlin only knows what sort of atrocities for me. We weren't having lie-ins in the country, whiling away our days in luxury while we awaited the horcruxes to be delivered to our doorstep." Unsuccessfully trying to keep the lid closed on the deluge of memories from the worst year of her life, she derisively added, "Just ask your brother."

"I know you slept with him!"

"With Harry?" She confirmed incredulously. "Oh good Godric, you're mental. Why on earth would I have slept with Harry of all people. That would be like you sleeping with George."

Clapping his hands as he tried his best to wrestle everything back into Pandora's Box, Arthur suggested, "How about we all sit down to dinner? We'll get some food in our bellies and then see that this is all just a bit heightened due to hunger. How's that sound?"

Softening her features as she looked at her other favorite Weasley and realized how little she would be seeing him from now on, she said, "Thank you Mr. Weasley, Arthur, but I really can't stay. I only kept the date because Ron has been avoiding me for the last two weeks."

Always in tune with his environment and the emotions around him, the kind, fatherly wizard whom she would miss the most from the bunch, looked sad for a moment before nodding his head in understanding and acceptance.

"His family will be lucky to have you," he said kindly, offering her a tight hug. Smoothing his hand over her hair in much the way her own father had done when both offering and seeking reassurance, Arthur murmured, "It would have been one of my proudest days to have gotten to call you my daughter. I'm so sorry it had to end like this but you need to do what makes you happy and that's not Ron; it has never been Ron."

Hugging him tighter, she quietly responded, "The next time I'm in London, maybe you, Harry, and I can-"

"Send your owl to my office. I'll always have a free lunch break for you."

"Thank you for understanding," she sniffled, letting go of the last father figure she had. She knew she could never truly lose Arthur - after all he still met up with Harry as often as they could manage at the Ministry - but his responsibilities and loyalties first and foremost would rightfully be to his wife and his own children.

Cutting through the bittersweet moment, Ron questioned, "Dad, what did you mean, 'his family?' Whose family?" His sunburned face already beginning to fill in with the unflattering shade of puce he turned when his anger and jealousy flared. "Hermione, what is he talking about?"

"Flint, Ron. Dad's referring to Marcus Flint," Ginny interjected triumphantly. "Told you it was only a matter of time before he slithered in on her. I mean, what better way to restore his family's reputation than to be seen with Hermione Granger, the muggleborn 'Golden Girl?' Someone should probably tell him Viktor got there first though."

"What is your problem?" Hermione demanded, her voice rising above Ron's all too predictable outburst in response to the news of her having slept with Viktor in what was basically another life. Thinking better on it, she sliced her hand through the air cutting off the redhead before she could even start. "You know what? I don't even care. If you want to be a cynical, nasty, vindictive, hateful witch, then by all means, be my guest. But just so you know, that shite is like a poison and it will rot your soul if you let it fester."

With her emotions swinging around and reaching a fevered pitch, she took a moment to once again try and compose herself. Looking down at the grass, she repeatedly clenched and flexed her fingers trying to expel some of her heightened energy. The situation was never going to be ideal but as her heart fluttered with thickening anxiety and her mind started to tease her with the feeling of being threatened, she had begun to regret choosing the Burrow. Here, surrounded by his family, Ron had an advantage over her and that realization was beginning to sink in as she felt the oppressive weight of Molly and Ginny's malevolent natures settle around her. It was like she was cornered and though they didn't move an inch, they still were closing in on her. Seeing the signs for what they were - an impending panic attack - she focused even harder on the ground before her and forced her breath to fall into Ujjayi Pranayama, grasping for the centering calm that came with her daily yoga practice.

Flexing and curling her toes in time with her fingers, she counted out an entire minute before the clutch on her chest began to recede. When another minute passed and with it the disappearance of the choke hold on her throat, she shook out her arms, acknowledging that she was in a precarious mental state and needed to extract herself from the environment she was in with haste. No matter the situation, social interactions shouldn't feel like her nightmares where she was still at war and whether it was age, experience, or Slytherin influence, Hermione knew in her situation sometimes self preservation was the best and only course of action.

Accepting that there wasn't anything worth saving with Ron and that those whose relationships she did value wouldn't fault her for what had been a long time coming, she took one final deep breath and laid everything at his feet for him to do with it what he would.

"Ron, you're a terrible boyfriend - utter shite if I'm being brutally honest. And after what you've put me through, I'm not going to bother with letting you down gently. We're a disaster together; we couldn't even manage a proper friendship without Harry around to act as a buffer. So whatever possessed us into becoming romantically involved is a mystery.

"You're incapable of taking responsibility for your actions, entitled, immature, wildly insecure which makes you unbearably jealous, verbally abusive, emotionally manipulative, and a philandering arsehole. Since we've gotten back together - which was a terrible mistake on my part - the only times I've been happy are when you're freezing me out. I can't even be arsed to care about the fact that you've no doubt been sticking it in Lavender and whoever else is dumb enough to fall into bed with you. I should have dumped you long before now but frankly until recently, dealing with you and your explosive anger was just more effort than it was worth.

"I deserve to be happy and loved and supported and you are incapable of giving me any of that. So, I genuinely wish you all the best in life Ron, but it's past time we went our separate ways."

"This is because of that fucking troll you've been whoring around with, isn't it?" He raged as she gave half a wave to George, telling him she'd see him in a few weeks at game night, before beginning to head to the boundary line of the Burrow so she could apparate away.

She hadn't taken two steps from the gathered group of Weasleys when she felt his punishing grip close around her upper arm. He didn't have the chance to spew whatever new vitriol was on his tongue, nor did his father or brothers fully get their violent objections to his manhandling of her out, before she whirled around and punched him in the face, the crack of his bone making a satisfying echo in her ear.

Laying in a crumpled heap not unlike the ribbon she had been fussing with earlier that evening, she seethed, "How dare you think you can lay your hands on me, Ronald Weasley! If you ever come near me again, let alone touch me, a broken nose will be the least of your concerns."

As she walked away, Molly screeched at her back, "You can't just leave him like that! You're a healer, fix him!"

"Call someone else," she said flippantly. "After all, I'd hate to think you were settling for a subpar healer since you and your son hold such little regard for my ability." Calling out over her shoulder as she continued to walk away, she said, "You know where to find me if you want the jinx lifted, George."

"Oi! Wait for me!" He yelled, making her turn around. Looking at his brothers, sister, dad, and finally his mother, as he slowly began walking backward towards her, he revealed, "On the subject of things that are long overdue, I've been exclusively dating Narcissa Black and living with her for two years now." Spinning around he broke out into a run as he threw out, "See you next Sunday!"

Stumbling as he grabbed her hand and tugged her along in their joint escape, Hermione couldn't help the newest round of laughter that bubbled over. The infectious sound rang out free and clear over the country home of the Weasleys, lingering in the early summer air as George apparated them to an alley in London not far from the Leaky Cauldron.

Falling to her bum on the dirty concrete, she laughed even harder as she watched him resume his aggressive itching. Taking pity on his inflamed skin that was beginning to sprout red welts from where he had all but begun to claw at himself, she lifted the jinx and offered, "Truce?" Gesturing to her ridiculously glittery self.

"That's fair," he said, taking out his wand and spiraling the point at her until every trace of dazzle was removed from her skin and clothes. "So, what do you plan to do with the rest of your evening now that you're a witch free from the scandalous cloud of infidelity?"

Instead of answering, she asked, "Is it weird that I feel so free now? I thought for sure that despite being more than ready to end things and move on, that I would somehow feel burdened with my decision and need to mourn the past."

"Not at all. When Fred and I finally came to terms with the fact that we would never have our mother's acceptance, we were so much happier. The expectations of others is a suffocating burden that robs people of their freewill. Who are they to judge you for what makes you happy? You're not doing anything illegal or even morally questionable so they can shut up and sit down with their opinions on your life."

"Is that why you finally told them about Cissa?"

Sighing as he rested his head against the brick wall they sat against, he said, "I've wanted the entire world to know about us from the moment Malfoy signed his name on their divorce papers. She's so bloody insecure though; always fretting over the absurd idea that I should be with someone my own age. But it's like you said, she makes me feel loved, happy, accepted, and supported and while there's probably some psycho giggle-"

"It's babble."

"- term about me having a mummy complex-"

"Oedipus."

"Will you stop?"

"Sorry," she muttered, patting his knee. "Go on, I'll be on my best behavior."

"Snape was right, you really are an insufferable know-it-all."

Rolling her eyes, she prompted, "You were saying?"

"I was saying that none of that matters. The world stopped making sense when Fred died. I felt like my very soul had been ripped from my being and died right alongside him. I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep, being alive was exhausting. More nights than not I lay awake wondering what was the point of living without him and contemplated turning my wand on myself. But then after what was supposed to be just another one night stand, I woke up next to Cissa and… and it was like all of a sudden I could breathe again.

"What did the crazy blonde chit say in that show? She's my crab?"

"Lobster; she's your lobster," Hermione smiled.

"Exactly. She's my lobster and if I have to drag our relationship into the light with her kicking and screaming the whole way, I'm going to do it because there is no one I would rather be with." Standing up, George offered her his hands and yanked her back onto her feet, saying with a hug, "Now let's get you through the floo, back to Falmouth, and down the beach to your own crustacean. I have a witch in Bath who needs to be told what's what about how things will be between us going forward."

"Good luck with that, George. I'm sure Mistress Black will be very receptive to you putting your foot down in such a manner."

With a cheeky wink and words that had her quickly dismissing the thought that popped in her head about their dynamic behind closed doors, he replied, "I'm counting on it. She got a new flogger that I've been itching for her to use on me - no pun intended."

After a quick walk down half a city block that brought them to the Leaky Cauldron, a jaunt up Diagon Alley to his shop, and a pinch of floo powder later, she was back in Viktor's home. Running up the stairs to her room, she stripped the strappy mint green blouse she had worn all day off and exchanged it for a navy blue sweater that was dotted with hot pink sailboats. Coming back down the stairs not even two minutes later, she left a note for Viktor and Luna on the kitchen counter about her whereabouts and was heading out the front door to his hidden apparition spot. Turning on her heel, she landed with a soft pop two miles down the beach in a front yard that had become as familiar to her as Viktor's was.

Following the cackling laugh of either Adrian, Cassius, or Graham as Tayn loudly recounted a story from Marcus's time in New Zealand, she walked around to the back of the house. Where the grass gave way to the sand, Adirondack chairs were arranged around a fire pit and just off to the side stood a shirtless Marcus manning a large grill with a sweating bottle of beer in his hand. She didn't get to admire the sight of him for long though because Darya eagerly announced her arrival by abandoning Mahuika's indulgent petting and kicking up sand in her haste to greet her running buddy.

Giving Marcus a bashful wave as he looked to see what was causing the commotion, she bent down and ruffled the massive dog's fur as she cooed, "Hello, my girl. How are you? Not being naughty and conning scraps off of people's plates are you?"

"I didn't expect to see you so soon, if at all tonight," Marcus said by way of greeting as he redirected his dog's attention with the toss of her quaffle.

"I hope it's okay that I dropped in unannounced. I just couldn't wait to see and tell you," she apologized, straightening up.

Wrapping her up in a hug that lifted her feet off the bottom step of his deck, he murmured into her hair, "Don't apologize. I always want to see you and if I had my way, you would never go back to Krum's." Setting her back down, he placed a chaste kiss on her forehead - neither of them missing the way all conversation had ceased or the feeling of five sets of eyes watching them with rapt attention - and asked, "So am I to assume you're all mine now?"

"If you'll have me," she whispered, stretching up on her toes to kiss his jaw.

"I couldn't ask for anything more."

"Marcus, you see the witch nearly every day. Stop hogging her attention and get back to the grill. Mum's going to be pissed off if you overcook her pork ribs," Tayn ordered, coming around to extract her from his hold. Pulling her over to the chairs and assigning her one before tossing her a beer, he said, "Get comfortable, between the five of us we have about a thousand embarrassing stories you need to hear before fully committing to this tosser. I was just telling his Hogwarts bros about when Kai and I taught him how to sail and how he ran my boat aground."

"You were navigating!" Marcus yelled, flinging a marshmallow at Tayn. "Don't listen to them, sweetheart. I'm an excellent sailor. I'll take you out on my boat during Yacht Week, you'll see."

"It took all three of our wands and the help of several muggles who were so pissed we didn't even have to worry about confunding them after to un-beach it."

"If you recall, I sailed here from down there. I wouldn't have been able to do that without being exceedingly proficient."

Leaning over the armrest of her chair as the boys continued to laugh and argue with Adrian, Cassius, and Graham each taking sides, Mahuika commented, "He lights up when he sees you, you know."

"Does he really?"

"Oh, brighter than Te Rā o Waitangi, child; but that's nothing compared to you when you look at him. You're a beautiful girl but you become incandescent when you see him. Seeing that makes it so easy for me to love you like I do him."

Wiping her nose on the back of her hand under the guise of taking a sip of her beer, Hermione sniffed to clear the sudden clog of emotion in her throat. After a quick swallow to carry through with her pathetic cover, she quietly replied, "You have no idea how much it means to me to hear you say that, thank you."

Sitting in the Adirondack that she later shared with Marcus when he had finished cooking and hoisted her up and into his lap like it was an everyday occurrence, the evening passed with an abundance of laughter, freely flowing love, and continuous conversation that was absent of snide comments and digs against one another. Even amongst the boys who had tried to run her out of their friend's life not even twelve hours prior, there wasn't a single tense moment or awkward lull. Just as it was when she was with the wizard who linked them all together, it was effortless. And by the end of the night when he had reluctantly walked her home under a star filled sky and had kissed her breathless, each member of his family had moved into her heart and made themselves at home with Marcus taking an even tighter hold upon the largest portion for himself.

AN: She's his lobster is of course in reference to when Phoebe says Ross is Rachel's lobster.