05 April 2000

"Your move," said Harry, nudging Ron with his foot. His own chess pieces were getting restless. Ron's were on the verge of mutiny.

"Oh, yeah, sorry," said Ron.

Rain pattered against the windows of Harry's small cottage. It was a cozy morning. He, Ron, and Hermione all wore sweaters, a fire was built in the grate, and Hermione had an old afghan draped over her legs. Three cups of coffee steamed on mismatched end tables.

"I just can't believe Ginny was at St Mungo's!" Ron burst out.

Harry and Hermione traded a glance. It had been three days, and this was not Ron's first outburst. A couple times a day, he would get quiet and distracted, and then, like someone had got him with a Stinging Hex, he would blurt out something about St. Mungo's, or Ginny, or little sisters who disappeared when they were needed, and reappeared when they weren't.

Harry was a little weary of both listening to Ron natter on, and biting his tongue against saying what he really thought.

"After all this time—"

"I know, Ron," Hermione said soothingly.

"It's just... why'd she—"

"Who knows?"

Keep your mouth shut, keep your mouth shut, Harry squeezed his eyes closed for a second, then tried to focus on the chess game. He was winning for once... he needed to take advantage of Ron's distraction...

"And Ginny, she just—"

"Give it a rest, Ron!" Harry said sharply. He slammed down his bishop, who responded by making a gesture at him that would not belong in any church Harry'd ever heard of. "Sorry," he muttered.

Ron gaped at him. "If you're tired of—"

But Harry would not let him finish. "It's not that I'm tired of hearing you talk about it — I mean, don't get me wrong, I am — it's not only that, but I think you've got it wrong. Or at least, mostly wrong."

Ron sputtered. "Pardon?"

"I've been sitting here, trying not to say anything, but the way you guys treated Ginny was wrong," Harry said with dignity. "Maybe not you, but Bill."

"We weren't wrong, she was!" Ron said, outraged.

"He told her to get out, when she came by to see your family, and he said other horrid things to her," said Harry. "It was ugly," he added quietly.

For a long minute, his eyes held Ron's. The only sound was the fire crackling in the hearth. Harry wondered if Hermione had ceased to breathe. But Harry was right, and he knew it. The Weasleys had lost so much. The family was devastated. Shadows flickered over Ron's face, giving it a haunted look, as though he were being tormented. And maybe he was; Harry had no siblings, maybe it was more trouble than it was worth. He could see that thought in Ron's eyes — what did Harry know? He hasn't got any siblings! — but he never voiced it.

"You're right," Harry said, as though Ron had spoken out loud. "I don't have any siblings, so I don't really get it. I also don't get why you want to throw away a perfectly good sister." Unbidden, a memory surfaced... of Ginny comforting Harry the night Dumbledore died. He had nearly forgotten how wonderful she'd been. So much time had passed. The thought made him inexplicably uncomfortable, and he shoved it away.

"I don't want to throw her away, but—"

"But nothing, Ronald!" Hermione finally intervened, and Harry shot her a grateful look. "Harry's right, and you know it. That scene at St. Mungo's. It was awful. No wonder it took her so long to come home."

"She didn't even come home," Ron argued, but Harry could tell it was just for appearance's sake. The wind had gone out of his sails.

"Who would come home just to be attacked?" Hermione said waspishly. "I certainly wouldn't. All of you need a chance to sit down and work it out. That won't happen if you're screaming at her to get out."

"Yeah," Harry chimed in. Both swiveled their heads to glare at him. "Right," he said, standing up. "I'll leave you two to work this out." And despite the fact it was his own cottage, Harry retreated to give them privacy. He felt better somehow, as though some weight had lifted off his shoulders. He had done the right thing, telling Ron off, and Hermione would finish him off.

Excellent.

06 April 2000

It was past time to go home. The Ministry of Magic had been emptied of most of its workers. It felt empty. In any given day, there were hundreds of workers, making all sorts of noise, but at night it was quiet enough to hear a pin drop. Magical Maintenance would be by later, but for now it was quiet. Too quiet. In the Auror Department, it was the quietest. There'd been a surge of magical activity in the north of Ireland, and Tonks had sent three Aurors just in case. Another two were investigating strange rumors revolving around a Muggle carnival of all things. Three more were consulting with MACUSA – and why had MACUSA needed a consultant from them, in the first place?! The British Auror Department was depleted… Tonks couldn't afford those three Aurors.

Tonks sat at her desk, staring at the mounds of parchment. The headache that had been threatening all day erupted. She jerked, and managed to knock over a cup of water, and a pen-holder. "Damn," she muttered. She had taken to talking to herself when alone, a habit brought over from the days in which she'd been muffled by Moody's curse. It served her well on nights like these, when she was held at work. She needed to get home to her baby…

The orbs lighting the room dimmed to a soft glow, a signal that it was now six o'clock in the evening. Tonks rubbed her eyes, massaged the back of her neck, and tried – again – to perform a miracle.

The Auror Department had been gutted. Tonks needed at least ten more Aurors, and twenty more if she could work it. For a moment, she was tempted to bring back ? and ?, an Auror and trainee who had famously had an inappropriate relationship and had both been fired. Maybe she'd been too hard on them? But that was the protocol… not that they be fired, per se, but their reaction to being reprimanded had been so cataclysmic, that Tonks had not wanted them on the force. "Unstable people," she muttered.

She leaned back in her chair, rolling her quill between the palms of her hands. Even Harry's radio interview had only yielded nineteen viable candidates. Her inbox had been flooded, of course, but most of the applicants had been nutters. If she even just had one more…

As though her thoughts conjured it, a large paper airplane soared into the room, landed on her desk, and briskly unfolded itself. Tonks let out a little scream of excitement. It was an Auror application. "Don't be a nutter, don't be a nutter, don't be a nutter," she chanted.

It wasn't a nutter.

Tonks sat back in her chair, brows knit. Well. Ginny Weasley wanted to be an Auror. Not only that, but she made a good case for it. NEWTs were incomplete — but that was typical with the war, and classes at the ATA were prepared with that in mind. Not only that, but Tonks knew Ginny. Ginny'd been a strong fighter.

But.

Indecision warred within her. She needed strong witches and wizards. But did she need to earn the enmity of the Weasleys? Her friends? She'd heard from a very drunk Charlie — who'd been out with Tulip Karasu, and the two of them had decided they needed to call on their old friend Tonks — what had happened at St. Mungo's.

But.

The attitudes of her friends shouldn't dictate how Tonks did her job.

But.

The Weasleys were practically family.

But.

Ginny was of age, and legally capable of making her own decisions.

As Tonks tripped over her own thoughts, she was scanning Ginny's application. Her OWL scores were excellent, and she'd taken all the recommended courses in her sixth, and most of her seventh year. The only thing that concerned Tonks was the missing year... and Tonks didn't know if she was concerned because Ginny'd been her friend, or if she was just curious...

She reached inside her desk, and pulled out a sample packet of Truth Powder, one of the new products in development at Weasleys Wizard Wheezes (I guess it's my night for estranged Weasleys, Tonks thought guiltily). She shook it onto the scroll. All the little bits of powder turned blue — it would turn red if anything written had been a lie. But some of the blue had turned a more purply shade, as though it might be a half truth.

Recent activities and locations: a sanitarium in France, travel, and an address not too far from where Tonks sat. She knew the place. Rowan Khanna had gone there to recover after the incident in their fifth year. A nervous breakdown, Tonks thought it was called. Rowan had been trapped in a Red Cap's lair. It hadn't hurt her, but it had taken much too long for them to find her... her parents had taken her to France, and Rowan had returned a few months later, quiet and subdued, but no longer plagued by night terrors.

She rolled her wand between her palms. Immersed in the memory of her own youthful adventures, it was easy for her to understand why Ginny had to go away. The news out of Hogwarts had been fairly brutal. The pure-bloods had been safe, but Ginny and her friends had always taken risks... much like Tonks, Eleison, Tulip, Bill, and Charlie had. Any number of things could have happened...

Her heart squeezed.

Her mind was almost fully made up, but Tonks wanted to run it by one more person... the most important person.

She grabbed her traveling cloak off its stand, and scurried through the labyrinthine tunnels of the Ministry, up the elevator, and entered the Atrium just as Magical Maintenance was about to close the grates for the night. "Wait!" She called breathlessly. Her feet caught on her cloak and she stumbled her way toward the last fireplace. She grabbed a handful of green powder, threw it into the flames, stepped in, and shouted "Lupin Lair!"

It always embarrassed her to shout that in front of people, but her husband and son seemed to think it an excellent joke. Tonks watched as wizarding households whirled by, and finally launched herself toward her kitchen. She landed flat on her back, the wind knocked out of her.

"Rough day?" Remus asked sympathetically.

"Not so bad," said Tonks, picking herself up. A small, blue-haired missile launched itself at her. Tonks caught her son, swung him around, and covered his mischievous little face with kisses. "My day is so much better now!"

Tonks ignored the weight of the scroll and went through their cozy evening routine: dinner, then a walk, then a bath, a story, and songs before bed. "Just one more," yawned Teddy, eyes drooping. So Tonks brushed the blue hair out of his face, and sang "Three Little Broomsticks" once more.

Once the child was asleep, Tonks tossed the scroll at her husband and threw herself on the sofa. "So Ginny Weasley wants to be an Auror," she said into the pillow.

"That's... unexpected," Remus said mildly. He sat on the edge of the couch, and laid his hand on her bum.

"I'm going to approve her application," said Tonks. "Do you think I should?"

"That's... unexpected," Remus said mildly. He sat on the edge of the couch, and laid his hand on her bum.

"I'm going to approve her application," said Tonks. "Do you think I should?"

He squeezed her bum. "I think you should do what you want," he said. "She's fairly powerful, and has quick reflexes. She was a good student when I had her—"

"—in second year—"

"And I lived in the same house as her for an entire summer, she's a good witch..."

His fingers were now tickling her sides, and tugging at the pants under her robes.

Tonks was about to ask him why he thought Ginny left, but her pants were now off, and she no longer wanted to pursue this line of questioning. She would ask him later... (her underwear landed in a heap on the floor)... or maybe not... she'd hire Ginny Weasley tomorrow...

Remus's clever fingers found a clever spot, and Tonks gave up trying to think. And even after all this time, her husband's love-making drove her to forget all but her name.

But what she did forget turned out to be far more interesting than her name.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHP

08 April 2000

Dear Auror Academy Candidate,

Congratulations on being accepted to the Auror Training Academy! The four month program you are about to undertake is demanding both physically and mentally, and will require extensive effort on your part if you are to successfully complete each phase.

At the end, you will be required to pass your P.O.W.E.R. exam with "Exceeds Expectations" in each category. Enclosed in this packet, you will find a copy of your rulebook, which outlines the policies and protocols required of you, and Auror Trainee. Please note the section on trainee robes, and special equipment (all of which can be found in Diagon Alley). You are expected to be wearing your trainee robes when you disembark the train at the training facility in the Orkney Islands. Your train leaves London at 11 at night from Platform 11 and 7/8.

The Academy will be an exciting time in your life as you embark on a rewarding career at the rebuilt Ministry of Magic. We need each and every one of you, so come prepared to work hard.

Sincerely,

Head of the Auror Department

Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin

PS Good luck, Ginny!

Author's Note:

At last! Socks (or Memory and Sorrow, as we must now call it) has finally become what it has always meant to be: a naughty H/G Auror training fic! 50,000 words have led to this point. Nine years have led to this point. I've been trying and trying to get here, where they can just GET IT ON already!

Hahahaha

I'm joking.

(No, I'm not really joking)

I'm really not joking. Nine YEARS! Harry and Ginny are going to have so much delicious, forbidden sex! I am so excited to write it!

Okay, but also, today I had THE epiphany of how I was going finish this Socks-y juggling act. There are a lot of balls (hehe) in the air, and I was unsure really how I was going to finish it without dropping any of them. And I figured that out this morning (there was so much cackling. SO MUCH CACKLING). I was cackling so much I don't think I was even very coherent with my alpha reader, the extraordinary and brilliant Mel (mhersheybar, read her stuff, you will love it). I quoted Slughorn, for god's sake. She might have thought I was having a fit. ANYWAY. I have figured out how it all comes together. And you know what? I honestly suspect my subconscious has been cookin it for a long time, because it feels right. SO. I hope you will enjoy that when it comes. I'm almost more excited for that than I am the sex (I'm lying again).

Tell me what you think! I'm going to try to get the next chapter out in a timely manner.

Anyone else hoping my subconscious has been workin on a little somethin-somethin for Backward with Purpose III: Voldemort Strikes Back? (That's what it's called, right? It's been a while).

Look, don't make me beg for reviews, okay?