Merlin's bloody beard, all those responses just knocked us off our feet. Profuse thanks go out to all of you. :) We also apologize for any misspellings or missing punctuation...the site is pretty much eating our documents on a daily basis.


Christmas Joys and Other Things"We cannot hold a torch to light another's path without brightening our own." – Ben Sweetland

The weeks leading up to the holidays were fraught with fatigue and frustration. Trying to stay on top of classes was hard enough, and with the added worry of Beauxbatons' fate hanging over the school, Harry's patience was vanishing at an alarming rate. It was nearly impossible, on top of all this, to find time to practice spells and delve further into the matter of Horcruxes.

Fortunately, Hermione's genius provided a new solution. She suggested that they divide Potter's Army – whose meetings were the only thing Harry even remotely looked forward to – into three sections: one that would focus on searching for Horcruxes and useful spells; another that would center on practicing spells and prepare for dueling; and a third that would specialize in antidotes and healing magic. Harry thought these were especially useful divisions, as they would lessen his own load and provide alternate duties for those students who weren't as adept at spellcasting but still wanted to help.

Neville took charge of the Healing-magic group after much protesting on his part and persuading on Hermione's; he agreed at last on the condition that he would co-supervise with a sixth-year Ravenclaw named John Tyler whose passion was potions. Hermione in turn led the research team along with Ernie Macmillan (who was the victim of much glowering from Ron) and Harry, of course, was given command of the last division.

The choice of which team to join had been left entirely up to the students. Harry and Ginny had sincerely doubted that the method would work ("Just look at Romilda Vane!"), but the teams ended up in good proportions. Harry's section was slightly larger than the others, and the majority was made up of older students from Gryffindor (including Romilda Vane) and, surprisingly, Slytherin. The younger ones had spread themselves equally between Neville's and Hermione's groups, although there was a considerably larger number of Ravenclaws in the research team.

Concerning the latter, it was still disconcerting for Harry to see that so many people knew about the Horcruxes. And he knew that keeping secrets for long – especially a secret that was shared by over two dozen people – was impossible inside Hogwarts and that there was no shortage of eavesdroppers, so he heartily approved when Hermione suggested they mark everyone with a "nasty jinx" she had developed that would instantly affect anyone that mentioned forbidden topics to or in the presence of non-members.

In addition to the knowledge of various secrets, the use of the names "Dark Dork" and "Death Gobblers" had also spread prolifically; it was particularly popular with younger students and many others who were not a part of the PA. An ecstatic Hermione had even said that she'd heard the terms used numerous times at the staff table.

Harry reveled in how much weight the PA took off his shoulders. It was also much easier for him to teach now that he was dealing with older students; their experience meant that he didn't have to waste time going through the more basic spells. Instead, he focused mostly on spells that were quick and simple but effective in melee situations; he also emphasized teamwork and cooperation.

"Houses don't matter anymore," was the first thing he told them, "and I don't care whether your families have had a blood feud or something." He reinforced his point by pairing himself with a fifth-year Slytherin to practice the Jelly-Fingers Curse.

All in all, things seemed to be going well in the Horcrux department. The Ravenclaws especially seemed eager to use their intuition and resources to delve into Hogwarts' and the Founders' histories, as well as any other leads Hermione and Ernie thought up – of which there seemed to be plenty. Several Ravenclaw sixth years had teamed up with Hufflepuff seventh years to focus exclusively on their Founders' possessions – particularly Hufflepuff's Cup.

"It's actually going really well," Hermione said happily as she, Harry, Ron, and Ginny bid goodbye to the PA after a long, weekend-night meeting. "We've really narrowed things down. Anthony and Terry even agreed to ask Professor Flitwick if he knows anything interesting about Rowena Ravenclaw."

"How come he's not part of the Order?" Ginny inquired as they made their way to Gryffindor Tower. "Seems like he'd be really useful, and if Professor McGonagall trusts him enough to make him Deputy Headmaster…"

Ron shrugged. "I suppose they have their reasons."

Harry frowned. "I've been wondering that too. We should ask Remus or someone the next time we see them."

"Well we are going to the Burrow for Christmas," Hermione reminded them. "We can ask about him then – and what's going on with Beauxbatons."

"There'd have to be a lot of Death Eaters to destroy a school like that, though," Harry said grimly. "And Madame Maxime would have told Hagrid if things were really bad."

"Yeah, she is a giant, right?" Ginny asked, raising an eyebrow. "Or at least a half-giant or something."

"Probably," Harry shrugged. "Otherwise we'd have to redefine 'big-boned.'"

They had reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, who had seemed to be dozing until they walked up.

"Oh, hello, dears," she yawned.

"Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus," Ron said.

The Fat Lady raised her eyebrows as she swung open. "I would suggest working on your Latin pronunciation, dear," she said dryly.

Ginny and Hermione stifled their laughter as a red-faced Ron climbed through the portrait hole.

"Well, I'm going to sleep," Ginny announced, heading toward the girls' dormitory; Hermione followed her, nodding in agreement. "'Night."

"I guess we are too, then," Harry shrugged, looking at Ron.

"Best idea you've had all week," Ron mumbled, his eyes already half-closed as he began climbing the stairs to their dormitory.

Neville, Dean, and Seamus were already in their beds and slumbering. Harry and Ron quickly changed into their pajamas and bid each other goodnight. Harry pulled the curtains around his four-poster and removed his glasses, yawning widely. Thank Merlin that it was almost Christmas; even though he felt slightly guilty about it, he was looking forward to spending at least a couple hours not thinking about Horcruxes and spells and classes. He could also talk to Remus about several things he'd been meaning to discuss for the past few weeks but hadn't gotten around to, like Aberforth Dumbledore, Beauxbatons, and Professor Flitwick…and maybe even his parents and the rest of his family. There was also the matter of Durmstrang being a potential target; if Beauxbatons had been attacked, there was no reason why Voldemort wouldn't go after Durmstrang, too.

He'd have to ask Hermione about that, since she still seemed to correspond with Viktor Krum – maybe he should write it down before he forgot about it...

He sighed and groped around for his glasses again as he reached down to pull out his trunk. Shoving the glasses on with one hand, he rummaged around his trunk with the other, muttering, "Quill, quill," under his breath. He was sure he'd had several extras in here…

With a grunt of frustration, he slid down to the floor and repositioned his trunk so that it lay in a pool of moonlight. As he delved through a stack of notes, heaps of candy wrappers, and a pair of socks, he suddenly came across something hard, small, and flat. He couldn't imagine what he'd have in his possession that would fit this description, and he pulled it out.

It was a mirror.

No – it was the mirror. Sirius' mirror.

He stared at it for a moment. He remembered he had fixed it again before packing at the end of fifth year, because he hadn't been able to bear the thought of throwing it away. And he'd kept it in his trunk because even if it didn't work, it was still a part of Sirius…and maybe because he still held onto the irrational hope that somehow – somehow – they'd all been wrong…Sirius wasn't gone, not really…

He climbed back onto his bed and lay on his back, quill forgotten, with the mirror held in front of his face. Sirius hadn't had the mirror on him when he fell through the veil. That's why he hadn't answered, right?

But why would he have forgotten? Sirius would have had it with him, at all times, just in case…just in case I called him…

He turned the mirror over, where on the reverse side Sirius had scribbled his message. James and I…separate detentions…

And suddenly, he was struck with a thought.

If they used it during detentions…they wouldn't have called each other by their names. Not with a teacher standing there, who would have found out what they were doing. Sirius would have called Dad James…and Dad would have called Sirius…Padfoot.

He swallowed hard. Padfoot.

That's what he'd forgotten. Sirius hadn't come because Harry hadn't called him by the right name. That was it. And now, if he called Padfoot, Sirius would come, he would appear in the mirror and Harry could talk to him again, at last…

He squeezed his eyes shut. His blood was pounding in his ears. Please.

"Padfoot," he whispered.

He kept his eyes closed for an extra moment before letting them fly open. His breath had misted the surface of the mirror, and he quickly wiped it off with his sleeve as he eagerly searched for Sirius' face.

The eyes that looked back at him were his own, green and shining with anticipation.

"Padfoot," he whispered. "Padfoot!"

His reflection gazed anxiously back at him.

He rolled over onto his side and tried to keep the tears burning in his eyes from spilling out.

Sirius is gone.

He fell asleep hours later, still clutching the mirror in his hand.


"So there's Hufflepuff's Cup, of course, possibly Nagini, and a relic of Ravenclaw's," Hermione mused. "Professor Flitwick told Anthony and Terry that Rowena Ravenclaw's most valuable possessions consisted of a golden flute inscribed with her name and a shield of sorts, goblin-made…"

"But does anyone know where any of these things are?" Ron asked. "What's the point in knowing what a Horcrux is if we don't know where it is?"

"Well if we know what we're looking for, it'll be easier to find, won't it?" Hermione said snappishly.

Harry rolled his eyes. He was sitting cross-legged in one of the armchairs in the Burrow's living room, trying to practice Occlumency. Ginny was perched on the arm of the sofa, watching Hermione and Ron debate.

They had arrived at the Burrow safe and content three days ago, much to Mrs. Weasley's relief. According to Fred and George, who had dropped by to meet them, she had been concocting dramatic scenarios in which the four of them had been abducted, tortured, killed, or any number of other horrendous things on their way here. She'd given them all wet kisses and rib-crushing hugs as they stumbled out of the fireplace in turn. ("Aw, come off it, Mum, it's only fair that you give the Death Eaters a shot at them first!")

Until about an hour ago, Harry and Ron had been practicing Apparition under Hermione, Fred, and George's supervision.Harry's first attempt had been made a week before with Remus and Mad-Eye looking on, who told him he was "getting the hang of it." He had, in fact, gotten nowhere; his best effort had resulted in his eyebrows traveling to their destination without him. Apparently the experience he'd built up last year during the Apparition sessions with Twycross had vanished over the summer.

"So maybe if we put you and Ron together, you'd get all the parts," Fred had said, grinning at him when he told them.

"Sod off," Ron had muttered sulkily; he had gone without his eyebrows again.

But after endeavoring fruitlessly to Apparate up the stairs for the better part of the afternoon, Harry had called quits, claiming he would rather be flushed down a toilet. He had declined Fred and George's offer to help him with this.

"...At least we have an idea of where they could be," Hermione was saying crossly. "Voldemort wouldn't have just hid them anywhere."

"Even if we do find out what and where they are, how are we going to get them?" Ginny asked, folding her arms across her chest. "I doubt anyone's going to let us go charging across Europe to find Horcruxes."

"Well, since it's not secret anymore, we can just ask the Order to come with us," Hermione said matter-of-factly. "They can hardly forbid it."

"But what if they try to stop Harry from destroying it?" Ron demanded. "The only reason they didn't interfere when we had the locket was because they didn't know, and since everyone knows what happens when a Horcrux is destroyed now, how do we know they're not going to, I dunno, take it away – "

The argument went on this fashion for quite some time as Harry doggedly sought to block out their voices; when he finally decided to give up, Ron and Hermione had irately gone their separate ways. Fortunately, Harry was saved from any awkward thoughts on his part about being alone with Ginny when Bill ("No Fleur, thank Merlin!") and Charlie arrived to help decorate the house.

–––––

Ron was rudely awakened on Christmas morning by the twins, who barged into his room with a sound like cannon fire.

"It's Christmas!" Fred announced in his ear, grinning like an old tomcat and looking like a nutter with a red and white sock on his head. George broadcasted the same news to Harry on the other side of the room.

"Bloody hell," Ron muttered, clutching his chest and slowly sitting up. Harry gave George a look that said the same thing as he cast around for his glasses.

"Get up, you lazy bums, it's already six!" Fred said, snatching up the bulging stocking that had been lying over the end of Ron's bed and shaking it under his nose. "Don't you want to see what Saint Nick decided not to give you this year?"

"Or maybe," George said, putting on a thoughtful air, "if our information isn't faulty, what a certain person – a certain girl – "

"Give me that," Ron snarled, swiping the stocking and hugging it protectively to his chest.

Fred gave him a cheery grin and mussed his hair. "All in the Christmas spirit, bro."

Harry, who had found his glasses, was reaching for his own stocking. "Aren't you two a bit too old to be enjoying Christmas so much?" he asked. "And why do you have a sock on your head?"

Fred looked shocked. "No one's ever too old for Christmas!" he declared. "And this" – he pointed to his sock – "is part three of Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes' promotion of All Things Muggle. It's a Christmas special."

"Formed an alliance with your dad, have you?" Harry yawned.

"As a matter of fact, we haven't," George said. "But good idea, mate. Thanks."

Ron snorted.

"No problem," Harry said, rooting through his stocking.

"Well, we've got some business now, so we'll be off," Fred said with a little wave.

"Enjoy your presents!" George added with a knowing smile at Ron. They Disapparated with a loud crack.

"Gits," Ron said in a conversational tone. He began emptying the contents of his stocking out on his bed. His presents included the usual hand-knitted sweater from Mum, a large bag of Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes' All Things Muggle – Christmas special products, a fake spider from Ginny (which he chucked at the door, swearing, as Harry cracked up), and a bag of assorted sweets from Hermione…and a white envelope.

"Good haul?" Harry asked, flipping through a large book that Hermione had presumably given him.

"Mmm," Ron said, popping a Pepper Imp into his mouth as he examined the envelope. It was medium-sized and rectangular, with no sign of writing on it – no mention of recipient or sender.

Harry nodded as he folded up his stocking. "No necklace this year?" he joked as he stood up to change out of his pajamas.

"Thank Merlin, no," Ron groaned. He flipped the envelope over; still nothing. Had it been dropped into his stocking by mistake? If it contained a letter meant for someone else – a love letter, Merlin forbid – then he didn't want to read it, not on his life.

"What did you do with that other one, anyway?" Harry asked.

Ron frowned. "Haven't the slightest idea, and I couldn't care less."

"Better hope – who's that from?" Harry asked curiously, spotting the envelope in his hands.

"Dunno," Ron shrugged, debating whether or not to open it. "It doesn't say."

Harry slapped him on the back with a mischievous grin. "Only one way to find out, right mate? I'm going down to breakfast."

As Ron watched Harry leave, he had a strange feeling that Harry knew what the envelope contained and who it was from – and that grin could only mean…

His eyes widened as he looked back at the envelope in his hands.

No way.

He could hear his heart banging around in his chest. It was impossible. They'd just had a row (granted, it had been relatively mild) and she hadn't talked to him since. He couldn't see her apologizing for anything, either, even if it was Christmas.

Then again…

Taking a deep breath, he slit the envelope open and pulled out a card. It was a typical Christmas card, with a picture of a gnome dressed up as an angel sitting on a Christmas tree. He grinned; he'd forgotten about that poor gnome.

He opened the card, heart thudding at what he expected – what he would find.

Harry's scrawl dominated the top part:

Merry Christmas, mate! We asked Remus if we could keep your eyebrows and give them back on Christmas, but Tonks said you looked too ridiculous without them.

The next line was written in Ginny's hand:

I agree with Tonks. You'd think any change to your face would be an improvement, but I've been proved wrong. Merry Christmas!

And last, Hermione's:

You two are insufferable. Don't worry Ron, I think I could still bear to be seen with you even if you lost your eyebrows permanently. There are worse things that could happen. Merry Christmas!

Love,

Hermione, Harry, and Ginny

Ron reread the card; one part of him was indignantly cross with Harry and Ginny for bringing up the eyebrows again, and the other part kept whispering Hermione's note over and over in his head. I think I could still bear to be seen with you even if you lost your eyebrows permanently…

And then, underneath the signatures, more words started appearing in Harry and Ginny's handwriting.

P.S. Psst, Ron! Take some advice from us. We wouldn't steer you wrong on Christmas, honestly. Ready? Here goes – SHUT UP AND KISS HER ALREADY!

–––––

Harry smirked at him all through breakfast and the rest of the morning. Hermione remained oblivious to everything, unaware that Harry and Ginny kept making kissing faces at him behind her back as they added final touches to the decorations. The situation only worsened when the rest of his brothers arrived, since Harry and Ginny had evidently told them about their card – Fred and George prodded and poked him every time he passed them (one time even going so far as to trip Hermione so that she had to grab Ron's shirt to keep from falling) and Charlie would stand beside Hermione and tell her stories about embarrassing things Ron had done when he was little. Ginny would also listen in on these anecdotes and howl with continuous laughter.

Even Bill was in on it; "It's about time, kid," he said with a wink as he passed by carrying a plate of hors d'oeuvres into the living room.

Ron spent the hours leading up to dinner skittishly avoiding any room Hermione was in and constantly scanning the ceilings for mistletoe. He was definitely going to get Harry and Ginny back for this…

–––––

Lupin, Tonks, and Mad-Eye made their entrance at six-thirty sharp, and the house was full of bustling people and wonderful aromas. Celestina Warbeck was belting out a Christmas song on the wireless on the counter (Mrs. Weasley watched it like a hawk, preventing anyone from switching the station) and there was carefree laughter of the kind that hadn't been heard in months.

Harry basked in the lighthearted banter and all the cheerful faces around him. He moved around the kitchen with a perpetual smile on his face, already filling himself up on appetizers and smirking with Fred and George as they watched Ron warily skirt through rooms to steer clear of Hermione.

Ron was not, however, the only one feeling edgy. Although he and Ginny had teamed up to write Ron's card and alternately grin wickedly at him for the rest of the day, he hadn't really had any conversations or made real eye contact with her since morning.

If only she'd say something, he lamented as he watched her laughing at something Mad-Eye had told her. Anything!

At least Ron didn't have to worry about a certain something he'd had Hermioneput in somebody's stocking that morning. Between wondering if somebody had found it yet and what somebody's reaction would be when the something was found, he was beginning to question whether the putting of the something in somebody's stocking had been a good idea.

What if she didn't like it? Hermione had assured him numerous times that it was perfect, but what if she didn't really know what Ginny liked? What if she thought it was pointless, or stupid, or…annoying? What if, what if, what if… Maybe he shouldn't have given it to her; maybe it was just stupid worrying on his part. Maybe, maybe, maybe…

He could still get away; feign sickness and just hide in Ron's room until –

But then he'd been pushed into the kitchen, filled to bursting with red-haired Weasleys, Hermione, Lupin, Tonks, and Mad-Eye, and Mrs. Weasley pulled him into a warm hug that smelled of potatoes and gravy. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Ginny saying something to Tonks; whatever she'd said made Tonks laugh loudly and knock over the salt shaker.

"Merry Christmas, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said, once she let go of him. "Thanks for the sweater."

"My pleasure, Harry," Mrs. Weasley said, beaming at him. "Merry Christmas to you, too."

"By the way, Bill, where's Fleur?" Charlie asked over the din Fred and George were making, apparently trying to give Remus a demonstration of Conciliatory Elixir by pouring some of it into Mrs. Weasley's glass of juice.

"Visiting her parents," Bill said, shrugging. "We agreed she'd spend three days here, three days there since neither of us could lug our families across the country."

"And thank Merlin for that," Hermione said under her breath, popping up by Harry's elbow and unwittingly saving him from a desperate inner struggle; he was trying to avoid looking at Ginny and thereby narrow the chances of making eye contact with her, but standing alone in the middle of the kitchen and staring at his feet would have looked suspicious.

Harry grinned at her. "Merry Christmas, Hermione. Thanks for the book.

Hermione hugged him. "You too, Harry. Thank you for the book. So, have you talked to Ginny yet?"

"Er, no," Harry said. "So she – she got it?"

"Of course she did, I stuck it right in her sweater," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "Fell out right into her lap."

"So she – it's good? I mean, she likes it?" Harry asked, annoyed at how anxious he sounded.

"I don't know, go talk to her," Hermione said maddeningly, her neutral tone disclosing nothing. Despite himself, Harry chanced a glance at Ginny, who had bent over to retrieve something.

"Sit down, Harry, we want to show you something," said Fred, who had miraculously turned up behind him with George, saving Harry yet again; Ginny had just resurfaced and looked his way. He allowed the twins to steer him into a chair beside Remus. They sat across from him, one seat away from Ginny, and began to give him some background on what they were about to reveal.

Harry pretended he was incredibly engrossed in this conversation, keeping his eyes on the twins nearly the whole time (it actually was rather interesting; Ron joined in about two minutes later.) Ginny appeared to be engaged in serious conversation with Tonks and Hermione, too, and although she didn't seem to be looking at him too often, Hermione kept kicking him under the table.

"…So this is the final product." Fred stuck his hand in his pocket and produced a bee.

"It's the ultimate irritation device," George said with a wicked grin. "We'll give you a demo – watch."

"It's not real, is it?" Ron asked, who had backed away as soon as the bee had been uncovered. Harry thought this was a stupid question; Fred couldn't have stashed a live bee in his pocket for the entire day.

"Of course it's not, you prat," George scoffed as Fred whispered something to the bee. "Plastic reincarnation, charmed to follow orders. There it goes!"

Fred had let the bee go; it seemed to look around for a moment, then dove under the table. Harry instinctively scooted back, but Fred and George were tracking its progress down past Ginny, past Hermione, Tonks, Lupin, Mr. Weasley...

There followed the messiest dinner table, the most enraged Mrs. Weasley, and the most vociferous berating Harry had ever witnessed. Mrs. Weasley's arm sported a red bee sting mark that was swelling up by the second. Ginny had turned her face away and was silently laughing into her fist so hard there were tears running down her cheeks. Tonks and Ron fared no better, and Harry had to pinch himself to keep from joining in.

"Up to your room, now!" Mrs. Weasley bellowed, pointing out of the kitchen like a condemning god.

"Yes, Mum," Fred and George chorused meekly, the perfect picture of penitent children as they shuffled out. Fred winked at Harry as he passed him.

Mrs. Weasley took a deep, steadying breath and surveyed the rest of the diners. Ginny, Ron, and Tonks immediately sobered up and looked down at their plates. Still standing, she inspected the growing bump on her arm and sighed noisily. She looked up and instantly found Harry, who felt there was nothing he would like better than to sink into the floor and never be seen again. He nearly flinched when she opened her mouth.

"Harry, dear, you're finished, right?" Harry barely contained his sigh of relief. "I just read about the perfect charm for this kind of thing, but I left the book and my wand out in the living room. Would you mind getting them?"

Harry gave her a nervous smile. "Sure, Mrs. Weasley."

The book (Common Household Ailments and How to Cure Them) and the wand were sitting right where he'd seen them last night – on the little stand by the sofa. He picked both up and was just about to flip through the book when he heard a soft cough.

Startled, he looked up – and was further startled to see Ginny leaning against the doorframe, studying him with bright, dancing eyes.

"Hey," Harry said quickly, unable to think of any other greeting.

"Hey," she said, smiling a little. She pushed herself off the doorframe to stand straight, still watching him unnervingly.

He shuffled his feet, glancing down at the book in his hands, as if pleading for it to help him get out of this awkward situation. "I was, er, just getting your mum's book," he offered, halfheartedly holding it out toward her: hard evidence, just in case she didn't believe him.

She grinned widely. "She's gonna kill Fred and George," she said flippantly, too accustomed to the twins' jokes – and the consequences – to feel worried.

Harry managed a quick smile. "Yeah."

"They kept you pretty hooked, didn't they?" Her grin now had a very gleeful quality to it.

She's teasing me, he thought indignantly. "Yeah," he said, forcing himself to relax. "Those two are pretty ingenious."

She took a step forward, then another, and another…until suddenly there was nothing between them but a flimsy book. All pretenses of composure fled him. If she couldn't hear his heart pounding, he would have to advise one of those Muggle hearing aids...

He'd been so busy watching her face that he never noticed her hand going in her pocket. It wasn't until she brought her hand up to the level of his eyes that he remembered the whole reason he'd been afraid to approach her.

From her fingers dangled a thin gold chain, and from that, there hung a silver phoenix.

The phoenix he had bought, because it reminded him of Fawkes and Dumbledore, because it symbolized the hope that lived on in so many people, because its brilliant, fiery plumage made him think of her.

He swallowed hard, and couldn't think of anything to say.

"It's beautiful," she said softly, her eyes reflecting its glint. "Thank you."

All his worry, his fears, and the rest of the world seemed to fade with those words, and he wondered how he could ever have been nervous. He felt his own necklace warm against his chest, the counterpart of the one Ginny held, and thanked Merlin for Hermione.

She leaned forward, grinning as wide as he'd ever seen. She pointed up with her free hand, and he tilted his head back to gaze stupidly at a sprig of mistletoe.

"Mistletoe," she murmured unnecessarily.

"Nargles," he said, recalling that he'd said the same thing to Cho. But unlike Cho, Ginny understood perfectly.

"You've got Mum's wand," she said, and he could almost feel her smile.

This time, he grinned with her. "Merry Christmas."

–––––

Ron sat by the fire, half-listening to Mad-Eye recount one of his more exciting escapades as Auror to Harry, Ginny, Fred, George, and Tonks. Hermione was curled up in an armchair nearby, talking animatedly with Charlie and Lupin.

He had made up his mind exactly thirty-four minutes ago: he was going to do it. It was the how part that was troubling him. He had to get her alone, at least – he definitely wasn't doing anything with everyone watching him – but Hermione's conversation seemed endless.

"Hey, Ron," a voice said.

Ron turned to see Bill sit down beside him.

"Why the long face? No – let me guess," he said, his eyes sparkling. "Our brother got your girl?"

Ron felt a flush creep up his face.

"Don't worry, mate, I'll handle this," Bill grinned. Ron watched him mutely as he stood up and approached Charlie and Lupin. He bent down and whispered something in Charlie's ear, whose face split in a wide smile; he in turn whispered in Lupin's ear, and the three of them said something to Hermione. She waved at them as they walked away toward the kitchen. Charlie winked at him as he passed by.

Bloody Merlin.

Harry, Ginny, and the twins had noticed that Hermione was alone; Ginny nudged Tonks and got her attention, too. The five of them sniggered at him and jerked their heads toward Hermione, who was staring into the fire with a faint smile on her face.

Ron sighed, trying to muster up some fabled Gryffindor courage, and got to his feet. Urged on by Harry, Tonks, and the rest of his brothers, he hesitantly approached her chair.

She looked up when his shadow fell over her.

"Hey," he said, trying to stay calm.

"Hi, Ron," she said with a smile. She nodded at the chair beside her, where Lupin had been sitting. "You can sit, you know."

He tried not to force his smile. "So, er…how're you doing?" Over Hermione's head he could see Bill and Charlie trying to get everyone engaged in conversations so that they wouldn't be looking at him.

"Well, it's nice to be able to relax," she said ruefully. "Your mum's food was excellent, as always."

"Yeah," he agreed, trying to find something else to say and coming up with nothing. They sat in an uncomfortable (for him, at any rate) silence for a while, until Hermione spoke up.

"Listen, Ron, I'm really sorry I got snappy at you yesterday," she said quietly. "I didn't mean to, and I'll try not to be so impatient from now on. I know you – "

"Hermione?" he interrupted suddenly. "I think I should kiss you."

She looked up at him, clearly startled. "What?"

"I think I should kiss you," he repeated, feeling more confident now that he'd said it out loud.

"Really?" she asked. Her cheeks were very pink. "Why's that?"

He gave her a lopsided grin and shrugged. "Because I'm running out of reasons why I shouldn't."

"Well," Hermione said tentatively, tugging at a strand of her hair, "I was kind of, you know, thinking somewhere along, um, the same lines."

"Were you?" Ron said, leaning closer to her. "At least we agree on something, then."

She looked into his eyes and smiled. His heart was tap-dancing against his ribs. She leaned forward, he leaned forward, closer, closer…he could see her eyelashes…

Her eyes slowly slid shut, and he instinctively let his do the same. Every fiber of his body was tensed with excitement. She was getting nearer and nearer, her breath sighing feather-light past his cheek…

His lips met hers, and Ron decided right away to put in on the list of the best moments of his life.


"Well, Harry, you're up early," Remus said, looking up from his coffee and newspaper as Harry came down the stairs.

"I heard you get up," Harry shrugged, walking into the kitchen and taking a seat across from him. "I, er, wanted to talk to you."

Remus folded up the Daily Prophet and took a sip of coffee. "About?"

"I just had some questions," Harry ventured. "About things."

Remus smiled. "Fire away."

"Well, we were – that's Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and me – we were talking a couple days ago, and we realized that most of the Hogwarts teachers aren't in the Order," Harry said. "Haven't most of them been teaching for a long time? And people like Professor Flitwick; he'd be really useful, wouldn't he?"

Remus looked thoughtful. "Harry," he began, looking as if he were trying to find the right words, "most of the Hogwarts staff is in the Order. It's just that you haven't seen them. They're not as…active."

"Not as active?" Harry asked, knitting his eyebrows. "So they don't openly contribute or anything?"

Remus nodded slowly. "Something like that. They don't show their faces as much, either because they have family" – Harry had never entertained the notion of his teachers having families, although he supposed it was possible – "and don't want to risk their safety, or they feel that participating directly will hinder us rather than help us."

"So who exactly is in the Order?" Harry asked, frowning. "And what do they do?"

"From Hogwarts, there's Professor McGonagall and Hagrid, of course," Remus said, leaning back in his chair, "and Professor Flitwick, Professor Sprout, Professors Blackthorn and Drake, Firenze, and Madam Pomfrey."

"Firenze?" Harry asked in disbelief. "And Madam Pomfrey?"

Remus smiled. "Yes, although she really does prefer to keep a low profile. But she tells us she's become quite attached to you."

"I guess I've been in the Hospital Wing a lot," Harry said sheepishly.

"Nearly as much as James and Sirius, I daresay," Remus said with a chuckle. "She, Firenze, and Professor Flitwick gather information from Hogwarts and pass it along to Professor McGonagall, who in turn tells the rest of us. Professor Sprout provides us with ingredients for various potions and antidotes, and Professors Blackthorn and Drake keep an eye on the students. As for the others… Some, as you may have guessed, simply don't seem trustworthy to us – Argus Filch, for example."

Harry snorted. "He wouldn't get along too well with Fred and George anyway."

"So I imagine," Remus said dryly. "Professor Trelawney is extremely susceptible, to say the least, and Madam Pince isn't too fond of most former Hogwarts' students. We haven't approached Professor Sinistra or Professor Vector, although Professor Blackthorn says he's working on them, along with Madam Hooch."

Harry nodded. There was certainly much more happening than he was aware of, and now that he knew who the Order trusted, he knew who he could trust, should anything happen at Hogwarts. And Remus' mention of information gatherers had reminded of his next question.

"Remus, you know how you said some people gather information?" he asked. "Well, Professor Dumbledore – he has a brother, right?"

Remus sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I should have known you four would come upon it sooner or later," he said ruefully. "Yes, Professor Dumbledore has a brother."

"And he's alive," Harry said, suddenly hoping that they'd been right, that Aberforth was here somewhere and could give them answers, tell them what happened… "Aberforth Dumbledore. He's part of the Order."

"He is," Remus confirmed, and offered nothing more.

"He's the barman at the Hog's Head," Harry said; it was half-statement, half-question. "He collects information by eavesdropping on the people that come there, and he passes – used to pass it on to Professor Dumbledore."

Again, Remus only nodded.

"But if he's Dumbledore's brother, why hasn't he – I mean, why doesn't he – "

"Give us answers?" Remus supplied. "We don't know. He's as much a mystery to us as he is to you. He corresponded mainly with his brother – or so we were told. He rarely showed himself to any of us, unless we went to the Hog's Head. I've only seen him twice."

"But he works in Hogsmeade," Harry persisted. "Why don't any of you just go find him?"

"Because," Remus said grimly, "he's not there anymore."

"What?"

Remus shook his head. "He's gone. Just got up and left, about a week after his brother's funeral. Hasn't been back since."

That's impossible, Harry thought angrily. He can't just leave! Just when he'd thought there was someone else that could answer all his questions, tell him what happened, and why…

"What about Beauxbatons?" he said bleakly, expecting the worst. "It hasn't fallen?"

"No," Remus said wearily. "The French Ministry sent Aurors to the school and managed to drive the Death Eaters in that area away. Madame Maxime asked for stronger wards and more security; Durmstrang is doing the same."

"Durmstrang hasn't been attacked too, has it?" Harry asked, startled.

"Not yet, but the new headmaster – his name's Konstantin Ivanov – thought it best to be prepared," Remus said, nodding in apparent approval of Ivanov. "He's one of the cleverest wizards out of his country. No one expects Durmstrang to be a major target, though, since the attendance rate there has fallen so sharply that there are hardly any students left. It's been suggested that they abandon the school and take residence in their ship – you've seen it?"

Harry, who still remembered the sight of the giant ship breaching the surface of the lake during fourth year, nodded.

"Ivanov says he's still debating it, but chances are he'll stay with the school," Remus said, shrugging.

Harry didn't ask the obvious question: Is Hogwarts next? Despite what Remus had said about Professors Blackthorn and Drake watching the students, nobody in the Order seemed to know about Potter's Army yet, and Harry felt that he preferred to keep it that way. Not that Harry didn't trust the Order – he just thought that everyone would work better if they did things of their own accord and not because an adult told them to. But if Hogwarts were to be attacked, he was fairly sure that the PA would be capable of holding their own, and he wanted to give the students a chance – even if it was risky – to prove themselves.

Besides, Harry thought, looking at Remus, the Order's got enough to handle. He hated seeing how shabby and worn out Remus always looked. He only seemed to be getting worse as the year went on. Harry couldn't help wonder just what Remus was doing that kept him so busy, and what sort of drive Remus had that sustained him through all the years and all the losses. The kinship he'd felt when he and Remus had gone to Godric's Hollow only grew as he watched Remus sitting across from him, still able to muster a smile and laugh when he'd gone through so much pain.

"Remus?" Harry said.

"Hmm?"

"I've got one last question," he said, taking a deep breath. "Have…have you been taking Wolfsbane potion lately?"

An unreadable expression flashed across Remus' face; he didn't answer.

"You haven't, have you?" Harry said quietly. It was probably one of the reasons he looked so tired; without the potion, his transformations would be agonizing. "Can't anyone else make it?"

Remus smiled faintly. "It amazes me, sometimes, how much you're like James," he said. "He was always worrying about how I was doing, especially after he and Lily got married and couldn't come with me every month."

"Remus, if no one else knows how, I'll learn and do it myself," Harry said firmly. "You can't – I won't let you go through that pain by yourself. My dad and Sirius didn't, and I won't either."

Remus' eyes had glazed over. "Thank you for your concern, Harry," he said softly. "But I'm afraid Tonks has beaten you to it."

"Tonks – what?"

"She offered to brew Wolfsbane potion for me," Remus explained as he got up to refill his coffee cup. "I don't think I would quite trust whatever she concocts yet, but she promised to ask Mad-Eye for advice."

Harry couldn't help but grin. It made sense – Tonks would also have noticed what was plain to Harry, and she wouldn't have stood by and watched Remus suffer.

"I wish I could learn to be an Animagus," Harry said, blowing his cheeks out. "Tonks could transform, too, and then we could go with you."

"Just like old times," Remus said jokingly. He came to stand beside Harry and put a hand on his shoulder. "It obviously can't be done now, not with all this going on," he said softly. "But thank you for the offer. And maybe" – Harry heard the catch in his voice as he said the word; there had been so many maybes over the past – "Minerva can teach you later. An Animagus." He smiled. "I'd like that."


Up Next: Remus makes a choice and House unity becomes more than just a dream, but the Horcruxes remain ever elusive. And then there's this matter of some…unruly Muggles. (This one might be late because we...er...actually haven't finished writing it yet..)

If we could hear from everyone that'd be great.. :)