Three weeks later, almost to the day, Hermione collapsed onto the chaise longue in what was going to be her special room, and wondered where the family had accumulated so much stuff. It had taken the best part of the day to move all their furniture in, and although the amount that had made their London apartment look crowded looked positively Spartan here, it had still been a mammoth effort. Rose and Hugh were supposed to be busy in their own rooms, putting away clothing, but Hermione had heard the front door close almost quietly a few minutes beforehand and had a fairly good idea that they were exploring the local surrounds instead. She wasn't worried. There had been a very stern family talking to about tides and rocks and not swimming before they had had lessons, and being allowed to go wherever they wanted without telling her as long as they could see the house. After she had delivered this, Molly had quietly taken the children aside and pointed out that their mother had not yet recovered from the loss of their father, and that if Molly found out they had caused their mother any avoidable stress, there would be howlers in the mail. This was enough to reduce both children to a very quiet "Yes, Gran," and they had behaved like angels for the rest of the day.

But that was yesterday. Today, they had a whole house to explore, and the gardens, and after that the entire headland with its forest and rocks and shoreline. Hermione smiled at the sounds of yelling fading away down the path, and gave up on trying to keep awake. Ginny was due later with dinner (from Molly, of course), so she could fit in an hour's sleep, surely.

An hour later, the clink of a teacup slid into her consciousness, and Hermione opened her eyes to the incredibly welcome sight of a hot cup of tea with two ginger snaps beside it. A light breeze was coming in the open window, waving the curtains gently back and forth.

"I'm going to have to concentrate if I want to get any work done," Hermione muttered to herself as she sipped the tea. Glancing around the room, she made a mental note of some of the things she wanted to set up, then she stood and wandered over to the fireplace where a fresh fire was ready laid out, just waiting for the cool of evening and a match.

Ten minutes later, she looked in both the children's rooms. All the clothes and belongings had been neatly packed away – so neatly that Hermione had to open a couple of drawers to confirm that the tidying had actually taken place, and that the clothes hadn't just been stuffed in a cupboard and the doors forced closed. However, of the children themselves there was no sign. Having confirmed her suspicions about their absence, Hermione brought her empty cup and plate down to the kitchen.

"Ginny?"

The kitchen was empty, although the teapot, wrapped in a bright knitted cosy, still had a small wave of steam spilling from the spout. Hermione poured herself a second cup and grabbed the bottle of milk from the refrigerator.

"I must send the children to the town for some basics, too. Now where did Ginny hide those biscuits?" Hermione mused as she sat and sipped the tea, which did not taste at all stewed. There was a slight clink behind her, and she turned, expecting to see her sister-in-law, but there was only the kitchen bench – and a biscuit barrel that Hermione could swear hadn't been there a second before.

Just as she was about to wonder about her own sanity, the front doorbell rang and Ginny's voice echoed down the corridor.

"Anyone home?"

"In the k… Ginny?"

Hermione looked at her cup of tea, then the biscuit barrel, then the next second she was flying down the hallway.

"GET OUT! NOW!"

Ginny startled, but obeyed, and in a trice both women were out of the house, out the front gate and staring up at it from the opposite side of the road.

Ginny peeled Hermione's hand off her arm, where Hermione had grabbed it in her hurry, and turned to her friend.

"What's happened?"

"It's haunted."

Hermione's expression was so serious that Ginny held back her laughter, and tried to soothe the anxious woman.

"Haunted? Have you seen the ghost?"

"No, but something made me a cup of tea."

That was enough. Ginny collapsed in hysterical giggles, while Hermione looked down on her with a mixture of annoyance and worry. "Tea? And here I was thinking you'd been attacked by the Dark Lord at the very least!"

"But I drank it!"

Picking herself up, and checking around for any unwanted Muggle observers, Ginny quickly ran a diagnostic spell over Hermione, who stood very still and tried to will her pounding heart to calm down. The wand showed an unbroken purple glow, and Ginny's expression confirmed the "clear" finding. Finally, Ginny took Hermione's arm and started to lead her back inside, while Hermione filled her in on how it had all happened.

Five minutes later they were standing in the kitchen, where the cup of tea still sat on the old-fashioned table, steaming slightly in the cooler air. The biscuit barrel was where Hermione had last seen it too, and Ginny waved her wand once more to check for any unwelcome influences.

"Well?"

"It's clean – no poisons or nastiness. As is the tea. But have you noticed anything unusual?"

Hermione snorted. "You mean, apart from a cup of tea appearing out of nowhere?"

"And how long has it been sitting there, and it's still hot." Ginny touched the outside of the delicate china cup. "As hot as if the tea itself had only been made a minute ago. Also, what does the tea remind you of?"

Picking up the cup, Hermione sniffed it. "I'm not sure. Home – when I was a child. Or … no, Hogwarts. It reminds me of the tea we used to get at Hogwarts."

"And have you noticed the cup itself?" Ginny took it from Hermione's hands and turned it. The crest on the side confirmed it – the teacup had the Hogwarts crest on its delicate side.

"We would never have been allowed to use this at Hogwarts ourselves. It would have broken in a week!" Hermione picked up the saucer, feeling the lightness of the fine bone china. "But I have seen one just like it. Minerva gave me tea once in her rooms, and she had a set. So…"

"So I think I know who your 'ghost' is." Ginny grinned, then said in a very commanding voice "Show yourself, elf! "

With a *pop*, a small dark house elf appeared in front of them, dressed in a fine apron with flounces and the Hogwarts crest in the middle.

"You needn't be calling so loudly. Dimity is hearing you perfectly well." The house elf stood proudly, not at all subservient like the ones Hermione was used to seeing. "You is wanting more tea, or perhaps some sandwiches?"

"You belong here, don't you?" Ginny gestured to encompass the whole house. "You're not personal property?"

"Dimity is not anyone's property, thank you, Miss. Dimity is a free elf, who serves the residents here." Hermione could swear the house elf flounced as she said this, and there was definitely a hurt air about the small thing. "Dimity was at Hogwarts, and was given her freedom like all the other house elves, and she chose to come here to serve the old master. And now the old master has asked Dimity to help Miz Weasley."

"And who is the old master?" Hermione thought she might have a good idea already, but Dimity just smiled, and hopped down onto the floor.

"Dimity is not saying. But would you like some more tea?"

"You lucky thing,", said Ginny as she watched the house elf bustle around the kitchen. "Mum could have done with an elf years ago, and here you are getting one for nothing."

An enraged screech from the elf almost blew their eardrums out. "You are not getting Dimity for nothing! Dimity does not belong to YOU!"

"Sorry!" said Hermione, trying to act as non-threateningly as possible. "Of course, you are your own per… elf!" Then she stopped and thought for a moment. "But if you'd like to stay, I'd appreciate the help."

"Dimity is prepared to stay for the mistress, because the old master has asked it. But Dimity will be having a day off each month, and not working past midnight unless it is an emergency. Also, Dimity will be requiring wages."

"Oh." Hermione thought sadly of the almost-empty money sack she had hidden in the bedroom, as the Gringotts Goblins still hadn't permitted her access to Ron's funds at all. Apparently they were still annoyed about losing their dragon. "But I can't …"

"Dimity requires a pair of socks each winter, a warm hat each autumn, and a new apron in summer. And a galleon on the first day of spring. Can the mistress…?"

"If not, I'll pay for you," said Ginny. "

"No, that I can afford. Somehow. Thank you, Dimity. I accept your help with gratitude, because I really need it." She sank into a nearby chair, and sighed heavily. "I have no idea how I'll cope as it is. I get so tired…"

Ginny moved the tea closer to Hermione, then glanced at the house elf and gestured out of the kitchen. A moment later the two of them were in the corridor, just out of Hermione's hearing.

"Dimity, I need your help."

"I am not your elf, Miz Potter."

"No, I know. It's not for me." Ginny glanced into the kitchen, then looked back at the house elf. "It's Hermione. She's not well."

Dimity's expression slipped from haughty to concerned. "Not well? Is the mistress sick?"

"I wish it were that simple." Ginny's face held, but her voice cracked slightly and Dimity conjured up a handkerchief and handed it over. Ginny nodded her thanks, then continued. "She was tortured during the War, injured in the last Battle, and then suffered a great deal of survivor's guilt and depression afterwards. Rose's birth was rough, and Hugo's almost killed her. She's … just not very strong, and she keeps trying to do everything herself. She blames herself for the deaths of people like Remus and Tonks, and especially for not being able to save Professor Snape." At this, the elf started, but Ginny didn't notice and carried on. "So now she can't work a full-time job – she'll manage a week or so but then she'll collapse and be ill for a month. And since my brother died…"

Ginny broke down at this point, and sobbed silently into her handkerchief. Dimity wrung her hands gently, then spoke up, her elf-eyes filled with tears.

"Miz Potter need not be worried. Dimity will make Miz Weasley take naps, and eat properly, and will not let her lift anything heavy or play with the old master's nasties. Dimity knows what's best."

"Thank you, Dimity. And can I ask…?"

"If there is need, Dimity will fetch Miz Potter."

Ginny took a deep breath, dried her eyes, then hugged Dimity hard. The old elf looked close to tears herself, but hugged back and, drying her own eyes surreptitiously on the corner of her apron, headed back into the kitchen. A moment later Ginny almost laughed out loud at the sound of Hermione giving in to a soul that was bossier than her own.