CHAPTER TWO

Harry arrived at four, on the dot, and Ron opened the door when he knocked. They embraced, squeezing tight, and arms around shoulders, walked into the living room. Hermione was not there.

"Where's Hermione?" Harry said.

"Still at work, I suppose. Been working a lot of late nights," Ron said.

Ron waved his wand and two beers zoomed in from the kitchen. He flicked his wand again, and the caps spun away with a whip!

"You are so lazy," Harry said with a smile.

"The mother of invention is the guy who doesn't want to get off his couch," Ron said with a shrug.

"Is that how it goes?"

"That's how it goes, Harry."

They clinked glasses and plopped onto the couches together. Ron took a drink, and then yawned, and rubbed his eyes.

"How's work?" Harry said.

"Fine," Ron said, a little quickly. Harry gave him a look.

"Okay, fine. Not so fine," Ron again said quickly. Harry was undeterred. He had known Ronald Weasley long enough to know when he was being evasive.

"You gonna tell me or are you gonna make me guess?' Harry said.

"I don't want to talk about it."

Ron got up quickly, beer in hand, and walked over to the door. He leaned against the frame, back to Harry. Harry frowned. This was much more dramatic than he expected. Things must be going really bad.

"You can talk to me if you want," Harry said.

Ron turned around, and stared at Harry, but before anything could change, they heard the front door creak open.

"I'm home! Is Harry here already?" Hermione called out.

"Yeah," Harry and Ron called out at the same time.

Hermione walked into the living room, carrying a shoulder bag. She kissed Ron and hugged Harry, and with a wave of her wand a beer zoomed in, sans cap, and into her hand. She dropped her bag on the floor with a dull thud.

"You too, eh?" Ron said.

"I got corned by the Deputy Minister. Wants me to move off the house elf issue, work on some goblin paperwork. I know why wants me to do it, the bloody bastard," Hermione said, taking a long swig. Ron and Harry exchanged glances.

"Why?" Ron said. Harry knew why –– she made the ministry look bad for pushing back on them not paying house elves.

"Because they still aren't paying all of their house elves, and they're tired of looking bad," Hermione said.

They sat down on the couch together, but only for a moment -– Hermione immediately sprang up.

"Oh, Harry, those papers!" she said. She ran over to her bag.

After they went over the papers (Harry suggested that the changes in America could use a little more muscle, and suggested sending in an Auror or two, something Hermione had already though of and was pink that Harry agreed with), they had dinner. The promised goulash had been given up on and thrown in the trash, and their (paid) house elf Mork had whipped up steak and mashed potatoes.

"Thank you, Mork," Hermione said. The young house elf bowed low, and backed off, smiling, before Apparting away.

"Where is he living now?" Harry asked.

"He bought a small apartment in the city, amongst other freed house elves. It took some convincing, but we got him to move out," Hermione said.

"She got him to move out. I was fine with Mork here," Ron said.

"Mork needed his independence. And some capital, too. He won't work for us forever, Ron. What if he finds a better paying job, or retires? He needs something to retire on."

Ron looked at her, incredulous.

"A better paying job? Retirement?"

Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but a look from Harry closed her mouth. No use arguing with Ron, Harry knew. He'd either come around on his own or he wouldn't. Ron looked to him for support, and Harry felt a little old anger, but it died quickly.

"Anyway," Harry said quickly.

"You heard from Ginny?" Ron said, as eager as Harry to move the conversation along?

Before Harry could answer, an owl swooped in –– it dropped a letter on Ron's lap and nipped his ear.

"Ouch, you little shit," Ron said. He waved his wand again and owl treats flew across the room. He caught one, and fed the owl. The owl was snowy, with piercing eyes. The owl looked like Hedwig.

"Whose owl is that?" Harry said, tightness in his throat.

"George's," Ron said.

"I thought he had a big brown thing," Harry said.

"That's his home owl now. This girl is named Winifred."

"Fred," Harry said, and the owl hooted. Ron smiled sadly, and Hermione squeezed his hand.

"Yeah," Ron said. "Fred."

Ron read the letter and sighed. He stood.

"George needs me to come to the office. I'll be back soon. You stick around, Harry?" Ron said.

"I gotta get going. I'm heading out tomorrow to look at an explosion in Bakewell," Harry said.

"Oh, damn. Sorry we didn't get to talk about it. Tell me about it when you get back?"

"Definitely."

Ron kissed Hermione, hugged Harry, and turned on the spot –– with that, there was a crack, and he disappeared. Harry and Hermione sat back down.

"You met your partner yet?" Hermione said.

"No. Don't even know her first name," Harry said.

"Bethany. I asked around."

"I'd ask if that was because you knew I was layabout –"

"But we already know the answer to that," she said with a smile.

They sat in silence for a moment. Fred had flown off with Ron's departure, and the two were left alone. Harry felt old in the silences –– more and more so, lately, it seemed to him. He hadn't been apart from Ginny this long since his last year at Hogwarts, and their home was too empty for him.

He almost said this to Hermione –– expressed this growing discomfort. But she looked at him, and they locked eyes, and he didn't want to tell her anymore. She looked more tired than he did, worn down by the constant arguing and negotiating of her job. She would be out of there eventually, in a bigger office with a bigger mandate, but that wasn't now. He didn't want to lay that on her right now. His problems seemed small by comparison.

"What is it, Harry?" she said.

"Nothing," he said, and stood.

"Leaving so soon?"

"I think I'm just gonna turn in. Thanks for dinner, Hermione. Tell Mork I said it was wonderful."

"He'll be happy to hear that. You'll probably find your house made and a meal cooked when you come home from work tomorrow," she said.

"I'll leave him a few galleons," he said. "And an order not to do again."

"See you at work tomorrow," she said, hugging him.

"See you tomorrow."

And he too turned on the spot, and soon he felt as if he was being squeezed into a tube of toothpaste –– and then he was on his doorstep, back home.

Their home was in London; a modern, richly historical place that both he and Ginny fell in love with immediately. He still had his parents house, but had not repaired it. It remained a shrine, broken and busted, with new messages of gratitude and love graffitied on every day. He couldn't have lived there anyway. Too many memories –– not of his own, of course, but of his mother and father.

Harry opened his front door, and went inside.

He rose slowly the next morning, avoiding the cold part of the bed. He dashed off a letter to Ginny, sending it by their house owl, Peach, who grumbled sleepily before taking the letter in his beak and flying away.

He ate breakfast quickly, wolfing down toast and bacon, before retiring to his practice room. A few times a week he and Ginny would work on spell work; mostly defensive spells, but some charms and offensive magic as well.

Harry kept an enchanted mannequin for practice purposes, and when he entered the room, it jumped to attention.

"Rapid fire," Harry said. The mannequin raised its awkward arm, a piece of wood taped to the end of it.

"Expell–" a nasally voice said, but Harry thought Protego! and a shield rippled in front of him.

"Stu–"

Protego!

"Sectum Sem–"

Protego!

"Stup–"

Everte Statum!

This spell hit the mannequin full force and it stumbled.

"Depulso!" Harry roared, and the mannequin slammed against the wall.

"Defodio!" Harry yelled, and gouges tore from the mannequin.

"Deprimo!" Harry screamed, one last spell, and the mannequin was driven into the ground with great force.

"Episkey," Harry said, and the mannequin was put back together.

He grabbed a towel from the rack on his way out, and mopped his brow, slipping his wand into his pocket. He stepped into the hallway, and shivered in the cold–– shivered in the cold?

Harry turned, and looked down the hallway. A woman, with blonde hair and brown eyes, stared at him. He felt a cold pit in his stomach, and he remembered –– that long hallway, racing down it, to the door of the Department of Mysteries. He thought of

"Sirius!" Harry screamed, but he had fallen behind the veil. Lupin held onto him tightly.

"He's gone," Lupin said, and Harry could feel hot tears on his

Harry pulled his wand. The woman did the same.