Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

23rd December 1998

Grimmauld Place

"Dad, do you think this is straight?" Bill stood back to look at his work critically and, when he heard no reply, turned to Arthur for confirmation.

Arthur glanced up from the glue-gun he was examining. "Sorry, what?"

"The tiles?" Bill said, frowning slightly. "Are they straight?"

"It looks straight to me," Arthur squinted, "yes, I think so ... where's that thing?"

"What thing?" Bill bit back a sigh of impatience. He loved his dad, obviously, but was starting to understand why his mum occasionally got tetchy about his love of muggle "technologolily".

"The level thing ..." Arthur muttered vaguely, rifling through a small tool box resting in the bathtub. "Here it is!" Stepping forward he placed it gently over the top of the last row of tiles and looked at it carefully. "Ingenious, this thing is ... the bubble is right in the middle, so we know it's straight. Well done."

"Thanks Dad, toilet next."

oOo

"Just a bit higher mate," Stan muttered.

"Better?" Ron stretched as far as he could and pushed the cornice into place.

"Spot on, now hold it there while I take a quick cuppa," Stan joked as he cleaned away the excess cement.

"Oh, you're funny, you are," Ron said dryly.

"I try my best," Stan laughed and picked up his drill.

oOo

"Here you are, girls!" Molly breezed into the room holding a large pile of ivory fabric, which she promptly deposited on the recently polished side-board. "Now, do you remember the spell?"

Ginny nodded dutifully while Hermione said "Thanks for doing this, Molly; we know you're incredibly busy at the moment."

"Oh, it was no problem," Molly assured them with a wave of her hand. "I'll be down in the kitchen if you run have any difficulties."

"Where did she find the time?" Hermione wondered. "You were right, by the way," she picked up one of the cushion covers and held it to the light, "it would have been too much of the same thing without the pattern. What colour did they call the thread in the flowers?"

"She cut and sewed the first one herself and then bewitched her scissors and sewing machine to do the rest, and it's called Cinnamon," Ginny told her promptly, and then giggled suddenly, "much nicer than 'dried blood', which is what George called it."

"Lovely," Hermione chortled. "Anyway, it's a good choice. Would you like to do the honours?"

"I'll give it a whirl." Ginny tapped the fabric in her hand twice with her wand, then tapped the seat of a Jacobean chair and said "Switch!" firmly.

oOo

"Last chance to get anything from upstairs until after New Year!" Harry's magnified voice called throughout the house, to be met with a chorus of "Fine", "No problem" and "We're all fixed".

"Let's get this show on the road," Eamon grinned, glancing at his watch, "at the rate we're going we'll be home in time for a late lunch."

"Music to my ears," Harry chuckled and waited for Eamon to step back before he shot a couple of spells up the stairway. "Done."

"Let's board her up then!" Eamon laughed. "Don't tell me you've tired of this already? You've got months to go yet before this place'll be ready."

"Not really," Harry smiled. "If it all looks as good as this, it'll be worth it."

oOo

"If I may be so bold as to say so, Mistress Weasley, we have done a very good job."

"That we have, Kreacher" she agreed, surveying the laden table and allowing herself a small smile of satisfaction. "A very good job indeed."

"And now, perhaps, a cup of tea and a nice slice of strawberry tart?" Kreacher suggested with a little bow.

"That would be lovely," she admitted.

As the tart in question floated across the room to land lightly on sink Kreacher busied himself with the kettle, affording Molly the chance to watch him curiously.

She had initially been a little weary of accepting his help, although both Ron and Harry assured her that she would come to appreciate it, but he had proved to be an extremely hard worker and quite the talented producer of puddings – and she had to admit that the difference between the Kreacher of now, and the Kreacher of a few years ago was vast. Indeed, she would have been hard put to reconcile he was even the same elf, if not for his distinctive voice and features.

When Kreacher carefully placed a steaming cup of tea and slice of tart before her, and then prepared to bow himself away, a realisation came. Hermione was right. Technically Molly had always agreed with her, but now it really hit home.

"Why don't you sit for a while," she asked, "have a cup of tea yourself?"

Kreacher's eyes widened to almost impossible proportions, "it wouldn't be my place!"

Kreacher had worked as hard as Molly herself had, quite cheerfully and never with a complaint; he had just as much right as she to take the weight off his feet ... but how to tell him that without being offensive? She weighed her next words carefully. "You're not my house elf, Kreacher," she said casually, "and you've been a great help, I'd feel much better if you sat down with me and had a cup of tea and some of this tart."

"Well ..." Blinking in confusion, Kreacher hesitated. "If it would make Mistress Weasley feel better."

oOo

"A little 'igher ... non, a little lower." Fleur sucked in her breath impatiently at Percy's ineptitude when it came to the hanging of curtains. "'Igher – Yes! 'Ere, just so! Perfect!"

From the top of the ladder, with his back to her, Percy allowed himself a slight eye-roll. The curtain was in precisely the same place as it had started. Really, how does Bill put up with this? She must be really good in – ugh, Percy! That's a terrible thing to think! Clearly George is a bad influence.

"Are you sure?" Percy was quite proud of the way he kept his tone neutral.

"But of course!" Fleur took another step back. "Come now, we 'ave only one more window to complete!"

Privately thinking that he would have been much better served to be catching up of the last of the paperwork on his desk, he climbed down the ladder and shifted it to the next window and waited patiently for his instructions.