A/N: This and another chapter at the Burrow, and then we're back to Hogwarts for fun and games, all involving various Unforgivables. I'll note there was a wee bit of inspiration from one of my favorite authors, Lady Altair, and her story Cauterize. If you haven't read that story, do so. After reading this chapter, of course.

Everything is property of JK Rowling.


Chapter 40: The Phoenix Safe-House

"Such a sweet girl you are, Ginevra. Pity they ignore you—"

Ginny moaned, her fingers digging into her bed.

"They don't ignore me, Voldemort!"

"I know you, little Ginny. You may be sixteen, but you're still that little first year . . . their little Gingersnap. The stupid, weak runt of the Weasleys—"

"No." she said, her voice shaky and muffled, trapped between waking and unconsciousness.

"No? Why do they not tell you things? Because you'll worry that pretty little head of yours. And they're right, Ginevra. You're the weakest one of all."

She remained sleeping, but her head jerked to the left; she felt the cold trail Tom left running his finger down her face.

"Get away from me!"

She gasped; she could feel him choke her, his cold hand squeezing her throat. She could see his face even though she knew her eyes were shut, his face that had been so handsome and charming.

But the hand that was choking her was pale, cold and clammy. It dug into her skin, pressing her windpipe shut. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't scream for help.

Godric!

She was all alone, and no one was coming into the Chamber to save her this time. No phoenix, no sword—

No Hermione. No Harry or Ron.

"St-stop it, Tom! Let me go!"

"Never!"

She gasped, her arms outstretched, trying to push him away as he brought her closer to him.

"You are weak, Ginevra. I made you do things to your friends, your classmates, and you couldn't stop me."

"No."

"I had power over you. You ss-ssserved me!"

Ginny flinched as a forked tongue flickered out of dream-Tom's mouth. Her eyes were squeezed shut; she couldn't see him, but he was still everywhere — inside of her, outside, all around her.

She couldn't escape him.

"You're nuh- . . . nothing, Tom!"

"I'm everything, girl! And I will own you! Forever!"

"NO!" Ginny screamed and shot up in her bed. Sweat poured down her face and arms, and she loosened her fists from her bed.

"Ginny?" Daphne reached over and tapped the lamp with her wand, brightening the room. "Are you all right?"

She took a couple of breaths and rubbed her forehead. "Y-yeah. I'm fine. Go back to sleep."

However, the Slytherin threw off her bed sheets and made her way over to her. "What's going on? You've been having some really bad nightmares."

"Nothing I can't handle," Ginny snapped. Daphne furrowed her brow, but she didn't get up.

"Is it the Carrows? D-did," Daphne stuttered, gulping before she could continue. "Did Amycus do something to you at school that you haven't told anyone about? I mean, I wouldn't put it past him—"

Ginny stared at her, horrified. "Great Hera's tits no! It's a long story, and it has nothing to do with things going on at school right now. Just let me be for a few moments and I'll be all right."

Daphne regarded her sceptically; finally she nodded. "All right. I know that you can't really talk about stuff until you're ready to." She shrugged. "I'm here, and I won't say anything to anyone, whatever you tell me."

She managed a feeble smile. "Thanks. I'll just go and get ready since I'm already up." Ginny threw the bed covers off of her, grabbing her robe. "Busy day today, visiting Phoenix."

"Yeah. I'll get ready too. Ginny?"

"What?"

Daphne grinned, although it could not mask her apprehension. "Happy Christmas."


The trip to Phoenix safe-house, although a long one thanks to multiple stops as the Weasleys Apparated from village to village to secure Apparition points, was fortunately uneventful. The only difficulty presented was the last leg of the trip, as the family had to warm a path through a thick layer of snow, all the way to the outermost wards surrounding the structure.

Phoenix had a magically expanded interior; from the outside, one would've thought it the last surviving scraps of a farmhouse that had been all but destroyed in a devastating fire. For the witches and wizards that worked for the Order, the safe-house appeared to be a modest-sized building, but nothing special. When Ginny and Daphne had visited it over the summer, the house had been rather bare — some old couches, a couple of tables, a stove, sink and larder as well as enough plumbing to make sure the occupants weren't wanting for facilities. No one had bothered to hang any pictures; the walls had had a stark and cold appearance.

As soon as they stepped into the interior, the girls realized the safe-house had changed substantially since then.

"Merlin!" Ginny exclaimed, at the same time that Daphne whistled.

In front of their eyes, Phoenix exploded with Christmas spirit. There was red, green and gold everywhere for the holidays. Pictures hung on the walls, the subjects inside waving madly at the festivities. There were huge magical drawings on the walls, of families smiling and hugging each other; Ginny could barely make out the words written next to them.

Before they could even walk into the main room, several colourful starbursts greeted their eyes. A Whiz-Bang chorus flew by them in a bright, sparkly blur. As the Whizzes whistled past, they reached a spot directly in front of the Weasleys, and, with a loud BOOM, they exploded harmlessly into the audience below.

"Happy Christmas, Phoenix!" The words sparkled and hung in the air in front of them, flanked by a large gold "JOY!" and a huge silver "CELEBRATE!"

Daphne whispered to Ginny, "This is approaching frightening levels of sentimentality, especially for the twins."

"You don't have to tell me. I mean, it's sweet and all—"

Children tugged on their parents' robes, pointing up at the glittering images that floated above their heads. Next to the letters, things that resembled small cherubs danced in the air, playing trumpets, their wings fluttering, shimmering like stars as all Whiz-Bangs do.

"Fred and George've outdone themselves!" Molly sighed.

Suddenly, the cherubs lined up, turned around, and stuck their bottoms out at the crowd. The fireworks spluttered loudly, and from their angle, the Weasleys and Daphne saw the sparkling cherubs blow the crowd raspberries while wiggling their bums at them.

To top it off, a series of new explosions, in gorgeous jewel-toned colours, burst forth from the cherubs' buttocks. The safe-house erupted in hysterical laughter. Molly's shoulder's sagged. "Oh for the love of Merlin! They couldn't just leave it nice and simple, could they?"

They bustled into the main room of the house, and immediately, Arthur, Molly and Charlie were swarmed with hugs and handshakes of the inhabitants.

"Oh you must be Ginevra!" an old witch smiling sweetly at Ginny with a toothless grin. "Your family talks about you all the time!"

"All bad, of course," Charlie whispered in her ear; she elbowed him in the gut.

"Ginny," Molly said, beckoning her over to her, "I want you to help me with something. Daphne, can you go with Arthur and Charlie?"

The girls separated. Ginny walked with her mum towards the kitchens to help prepare the big Christmas feast. There were a number of witches and wizards already hard at work, organizing the tables and dishes, chopping and cooking food, stopping every once in a while to play with some kids. She let herself be greeted and hugged by several older witches, hoping that her she was able to at least fake being in a good mood. Not getting a proper night's sleep had made Ginny rather cranky. However, in the spirit of the holidays, she plastered a smile on her face and did what was asked of her.

As she was tying on her apron, she spied the large wall mural that she had first seen upon entering the safe-house. Looking behind her, making sure her mum was preoccupied in a deep and animated conversation with another witch, Ginny tiptoed over to get a better look at the painting.

There were several drawings of witches and wizards, some playing with their families, others flying around on their brooms, or casting spells. They were lovingly detailed; a lot of time and care had gone into their creation. Ginny reached out to touch a drawing, watching it move under her fingertips.

She looked over to her left. One particular picture caught her eye: a broad-shouldered man with blond hair. The artist had even managed to capture the look of his hair rustling in the wind. He held what looked like a Muggle football under his arm; Ginny felt a pang in her chest. Dean. His love of West Ham football; had it not been for him, she would never have known what the drawing was supposed to be. And he was still out there, alive or . . .

Next to the man in the mural was a beautiful woman. She was smiling and taking hold of his arm. He kept leaning over to kiss her on the lips.

There was something about them that seemed familiar to Ginny, something about the man that made Ginny think she knew them.

"He sort of looks like—" Her eyes drifted below them. She felt her chest hitch.

"Terry."

Under the painted feet of the kissing couple was written: "Dorothy and Richard Boot. Loving Parents, Wife, Husband, Witch and Wizard. We will always remember you."

Her chin trembled, and Ginny quickly shook her head and wiped at her eyes, when she felt a tap on her shoulder. She spun around — and gasped in shock.

"Hiya Ginny!"

"Colin?! Merlin, Colin!" Ginny jumped up and scooped Colin Creevey into a suffocating Weasley hug.

He laughed. "It's good to see you!"

The tears that had almost spilled out remembering the night of Terry's parents' death now poured forth as she hugged him, overjoyed over this unexpected reunion. She could feel Colin's camera squishing between them, but he still picked her up and twirled her around anyways.

"Happy Christmas, Gin," he said, after finally setting her back down on the ground.

"I can't believe it!" She thought her face would break apart, as big as she was smiling. She gave Colin a kiss on his cheek. "Happy Christmas."

"I should say so," he said, laughing. His eyes looked just past her head and he nodded towards the painted wall. "I see you found our memorial."

Ginny turned back to the wall, her eyes now seeing the entire wall. "It's beautiful," she said, her voice filled with reverence as her eyes passed over the image of Terry's parents, finding pictures of others, all with names listed just beneath them, all with dates attached to their names. And two dates following each one, all ending in 1997.

"These were all the people killed in the safe-house attack in November, aren't they?"

Colin nodded solemnly. "There's a Muggle-born artist here, Laurel Holloway. She found a few others that have a real talent with drawing, and they finished this a few weeks ago." Colin reached out and touched the picture of Terry's parents, smiling sadly as he did so. Bringing his hand up to his mouth, he cleared his throat. "It's great to see you, Gin."

She took his arm and they walked further away from the kitchens; Ginny hadn't heard her mum yell for her, and this was her opportunity to catch up with Colin, whom she hadn't seen since June.

"This place was bone bare when Daphne and I were up here in the summer. Now there's pictures, decorations and families everywhere."

"Well, the pictures are my fault. They didn't have an unofficial safe-house photographer until I came along."

Ginny laughed. "Of course! It makes so much sense." Her eyes gazed over the portraits of witches and wizards cleaning and decorating Phoenix. Several showed groups of younger school-aged children sitting around some adults as they waved their wands in front of them, teaching them magic, same as they would've learned at Hogwarts. There were other pictures showing the safe-house denizens playing, laughing, eating.

Further down, there was a series of portraits that must've been taken following the attack in November. Painful images filled the frames, witches and wizards snapped with their mouths open as if they were screaming. Some crying silently as another embraced them. No sound came from them.

Ginny realized that none of them were moving.

She swallowed, holding back a wave of emotion that rolled over her. "These're so sad, Colin."

"They are. That's the intention. The ones there," he said, gesturing to the haunting pictures of people grieving, "I took those with what Muggles call a view camera. A large, accordion-looking device that doesn't run on batteries or electricity."

They stopped in front of the row.

"People thought that we needed to document everything that happened here, the good and the bad. Look at it like a book, you know. Here are the sad times—" His fingers pointed to the pictures of people grieving. "But afterwards, you move towards the better ones." Colin's hands swept towards his right, back to the photographs that moved. He looked at Ginny with a weary brow. "Those were the hardest days, the ones following the attack." He traced along the face of an old woman, clutching a set of wizarding robes close to her body. "Sometimes, you don't need movement in the pictures to actually see what's happening. I think these speak for themselves."

"I agree. They're powerful." She stared at the work, marvelling at how well Colin seemed to capture everyday life at the safe-house.

"Ginny, mind if I ask you something?"

"Ask away."

He lowered his head and whispered, " What's going on at Hogwarts?"

Ginny shook her head. "That's the last thing I want to talk about."

"Gin, it's not hard to know that something's up. It's been getting around."

"I don't know what you mean."

"Like hell you do."

Ginny recoiled slightly; she hadn't ever heard Colin sound like this before.

"Everyone knows that the Carrows have been dealing with pro-Potter vandalism, and that you, Neville and Seamus got into trouble because of the sword of Gryffindor. And, just recently, I've found myself suddenly unable to say the names of all the members of the D.A. back in our fourth year. Hmm," he hummed, tapping his chin with his finger. "It's almost as if someone put some strong concealment charm on the identities of some of the members. Listen: Fred and George Weasley were in Dumbledore's Army. Hey! That worked without any problems. But I try to say Gh- . . ."

He took a deep breath. "G-G-G-Gh- . . . Nuh-Ne-Ne-Nuh—" Colin thrust his hands out, exasperated. "See? I can't say anyone else's names that were in it. It just won't come out. Although," he said, pointing to his head, "they're all up here."

Ginny sucked in a breath and shut her eyes. Of all the things she loved about Colin Creevey, his persistence and stubbornness about certain things were none of them.

"Colin—"

"I'm not asking for an explanation. But I know something's going on. I know that the D.A.'s still going strong, even if I can't say who's in it anymore. I'm stuck in here. So's Dennis. And all we want to know is what everyone's up to. And if there's anyway to get to you guys. When the time's right."

"How can I tell you that? I'll be at school. You'll be here."

"Well, do you have any money on you?"

She narrowed her eyes. "Like Galleons?"

"All I need is one," Colin replied with a smirk.

She made a grunting sound as she dug around in her pockets until she found it. "Is this what you're talking about?" She held up her D.A. Galleon. Colin smiled proudly as he observed it shimmering beneath the lights of the safe-house.

"Yeah. You still use it?"

"I do."

"But you can get another?"

She shook her head slowly. Ginny really didn't like where this was going.

"Ginny," Colin said, his voice pleading, "it would mean everything to me. I just want to know what's going on. At some point, I'm going to leave here—"

"You can't!" she exclaimed, horrified. "You're safe here!"

"I'm not safe as long as Death Eaters have taken over our world! My world! Ginny," he said, holding his hand out, "you're pure-blood."

"And a blood traitor! And Undesirable Number One's ex-girlfriend!"

"But you're out there. You can still live a normal life if they win."

"Colin, what I've got right now is anything but a normal life."

He swept his hand around. "Look at this. This might be safe and cosy, but I feel trapped." Colin stared at her, his eyes defiant. "I need to be on the front lines. Not just for me, but for Dennis, my family. All the other Muggle-borns out there!"

Ginny stared at her Galleon for what might've been forever.

(You hate it when they tell you you can't fight.)

(Why deny him the same opportunity?)

(Weasley, if you don't give him your Galleon, he'll only find another way to join the fight. Or he'll run away, or—)

She took a deep breath, feeling it hitch in her chest. "If I give you this and you use it to join us and something happens to you, I won't be able to forgive myself."

"If something happens to me, I'll find you and you can tell me you told me so!"

"A-and what if you d-die?" She could barely get out the last word.

Fear flickered across Colin's face. It lasted for only a few seconds before a smile appeared. "Then I'll haunt you so you can tell me, 'I told you so!' and you'll simply have to forgive yourself. Is that a deal?" He extended his hand out to Ginny.

She paused and pressed her Galleon into her fist. She held it in front of her, her thumb holding it against her palm. "It's a deal."

Her eyes watering, Ginny shook his hand, leaving the Galleon planted inside his.


Daphne couldn't help but smile at the sight before her. There was a Christmas tree, not as big as the ones at Hogwarts, nor as decorated, but it was beautiful. The ornaments were simple, and the little Christmas Spirit Cherubs that had caused so many problems at school were looking around the house, smiling and batting their eyes at the overflow of happiness in the room. A few of them were dreamily playing their tiny harps and one kept throwing fake snow everywhere.

"Dad, when's the next planned transport?"

"Probably sometime before the first, Charlie."

"Well, if you need any help, I'll be here until the start of January."

He smiled at his son and clasped his shoulder. "That would be good, Charlie. Much appreciated."

He grinned at Arthur, as he barely missed a whole group of kids chasing after a boy holding a small broom over his head.

"Whoa there!" Charlie swerved as the children streamed around him. A tall man with a beard and glasses was running after them.

"Matthew!"

The boy with the broom stopped running and turned around. "Yes sir?" His voice was soft and humble; he clearly knew he was in trouble.

"What did we say about running in the safe-house?"

"'Re not to run in the safe-house."

"And what were you going to do with the broom?"

The boy looked at him, his face pleading with the man. "All I wanted to do was find a small spot and fly it. I was gonna stay real low, I swear!"

The man held his hand out, bending his fingers rapidly. "Give it here."

The boy waddled over, hesitant and pouting. "Yes sir." He reluctantly handed over the broom and spun around to run after his friends.

Arthur chuckled as he watched the children scamper off. "Happy Christmas John. You look like you've got the whole situation under control."

John, the man with the beard, grinned and shook his hand. "Happy Christmas to you, Arthur. I thought I was done with being a dad when Michael left for Hogwarts. But it sort of came in handy dealing this lot."

The mention of Michael caught Daphne's attention. She looked closer at the man with the beard; he was tall and slender, and his longish brown hair was peppered with patches of grey. His glasses kept sliding down his nose, which reminded her of Harry. Otherwise, there was a resemblance to her boyfriend. She smiled as she thought about him.

"Oh, do you have a moment? I wanted to introduce you to a couple of people."

Arthur Weasley's voice snapped Daphne out of her trance. She was even more surprised when he held out a hand towards her and beckoned her to come over. She walked cautiously towards the two men, looking back at Charlie who only shrugged.

Arthur slapped Charlie's shoulder. "John, this is my son, Charlie."

"Oh! From the dragon reserves, eh?" He held out his hand and Charlie shook it heartily. "We love hearing about Romania from Molly and Arthur. After all this is over, we might take a trip out into the Eastern European magical villages. We've heard it's beautiful out there."

He smiled. "Cheers! We love having people come and look at the dragon reserves. It's an extraordinary educational experience, seeing the animals live in a natural setting."

John smiled as he pushed his glasses back up his nose. "You just said the magical words. No one values an educational experience more than myself."

"And last, but definitely not least." Arthur put his hand on Daphne's back. "This is the girl who's been staying with us for the past several months. May I introduce to you Miss Daphne Greengrass?"

The man's face instantly changed as he regarded her. "You're Daphne?" he asked, almost as a whisper.

"Er, yeah."

He didn't move; he could only stare at her. She was starting to feel a little nervous and uncomfortable with John's reaction. "Merlin! Daphne, we've got a lot of questions for you. H-hold on . . . er, for a minute, please." He seemed flustered, barely able to string two cohesive words together.

She remained standing and gaped at the man she had barely just met. "Have I gone mental, or is he acting like he already knows me?"

"It's not just you." Charlie nudged his head in front of him. John had run over to a woman who was squatting next to the Christmas tree, putting some more decorations on the bottom branches.

"Dad," Charlie whispered, "what's going on?"

Arthur flashed smiles at Daphne and Charlie but said nothing.

"Sh-she's here?"

Daphne was starting to get very anxious now. She could hear the woman's question, almost an awed-like gasp, from a couple of metres away. John helped her up, their faces nervous and excited.

John and the woman walked back towards them slowly; he kept his arm behind the woman's back. She was willowy in shape, wearing jeans, a t-shirt and a scarf wrapped around her head. The tips of her brunette hair peeked from under it, grazing past her chin. Daphne spied the woman's bright orange shirt; printed on it was a faded sketch of Robert Plant holding a microphone, roaring into it.

"John, Sarah." Arthur extended his hand out to Daphne. "This is Daphne Greengrass. Daphne, this is John and Sarah Corner."

She caught her breath. "C-Corner?" she asked feebly. Her eyes flitted between Arthur and Michael's mum and dad.

"You're a friend of Michael's, right?" Sarah's question was so easy, so direct; Daphne had an answer for her, but all she could do was stare and gape.

(Michael's parents?)

(They're Michael's parents.)

(Say something you nitwit!)

This was completely new to her. She had never met any boy's parents. Well, she had never had a real boyfriend. She was trying desperately to think of words, ones that didn't feel fake and cloying, as well as ones that would reveal to these two apparently nice and normal folks that she had seen their only son completely naked.

Finally, after feeling Charlie elbow her sharply in the back, Daphne managed a nod. "Y-yeah. Michael and I are friends."

"Well," Sarah said, laughing awkwardly to her husband. "I suppose you're probably more than friends."

(Oh Merlin!)

(PleasedontbeLegilimens! PleasedontbeLegilimens! Pleasedontbe—)

Sarah shut her eyes briefly, as if trying to gather her thoughts. "What I mean is that he talked about you. A lot. Over the holidays, before we came here and in his letters back home to us last year. And he saw you at the, um . . ." she gave a little nod to Arthur. "Your twins' joke shop. Over the summer."

"We wanted to know if Mike's doing all right," John added.

"And Anthony. And Terry!" Sarah exclaimed. "Oh goodness, poor Terry. What he's going through a-after . . . " Sarah averted her eyes and pressed her fingers against her mouth. Her husband took hold of her shoulders, giving her a gentle rub. After a few moments, she nodded and turned back towards the group.

"S-sorry," she said, trying to smile despite the fact that her eyes were watering. Her hand fluttered in front of her face. She spoke softly. "It's still really fresh, what happened. Every time we think about Michael, we think about Terry and how he's doing."

"Uh, Dad. Why don't we check on Mum?"

"Good idea, Charlie. Daphne, you'll be fine here?" Arthur gave her a nod; she took it to mean that she should stay right where she was.

As she was practically frozen with anxiety, it wasn't hard to do.

"Go on," she said, managing a smile. She watched them walk back towards the kitchen across the safe-house, and she turned back to the Corners. They all took a seat on the couch behind them, Daphne keeping her hands on her knees, squeezing them as if she could rid herself of this anxiety by the simple motion of flexing her fingers.

She saw Michael's mum staring at a spot on her jumper. Looking down, Daphne realized with a start that she was looking at the rather conspicuous Slytherin blazon attached to her top.

Her heart sank; Daphne decided to start a conversation before either of Michael's parents could mention something disapproving of her House. Or of her seeing their son.

"Mrs. Corner—"

She blinked and met Daphne's eyes. "P-please, call me Sarah."

"Feel free to call me John," his dad said with a smile. "Mister Corner's my father."

"Okay." Daphne cleared her throat. "Michael's fine, since the last time I saw him."

(When we shagged like little bunnies.)

She could feel herself blushing furiously.

"Has he gotten into trouble at school? We heard about what they did to Terry—"

"No, Mr — er, John. He's stayed out of trouble. Terry was bad off for a while. Understandably, of course. Michael tried to stay out of his way, giving Terry the space he needed. But they made up, shortly before Christmas."

John let out a breath, clearly relieved. He grinned at his wife. "Are they together? With the Goldsteins?"

"Yeah. There was no way they were going to leave Terry at Hogwarts without them."

The talk started slow, with Daphne filling the Corners in on the past term in a general sense. She left out the more horrifying details and tried to include somewhat more entertaining stories that didn't involve her doing very dirty things to their son.

"He plays his guitar whenever he can. He's played it for me a couple of times."

John kissed his wife's hand. "And the tradition lives on."

"Michael said it was your guitar," Daphne said to Sarah.

"It's one of them," his mum replied. "What can I say? It's a hobby of mine."

"So you taught him to play?"

Sarah nodded. "I did. I was thrilled when he discovered he could actually sing too."

The comment made Daphne smile. She could feel her anxiety lifting. She canted her head as she remembered the day Michael serenaded her on his bed in the Ravenclaw boys' dormitory.

(You said you love him.)

(So not like a Slytherin.)

Her face fell. She wondered what Michael's parents thought about their son dating a Slytherin girl. Or maybe she didn't. She knew one thing; she wasn't about to bring it up unless they did.

"Daphne," Sarah said, interrupting her thoughts, "Arthur mentioned you and Mike wrote each other letters over the summer. I remember before we had to leave, he was so insistent about contacting you. Reaching you, regardless of the risks. When he gets an idea in his head, you really can't talk him out of it."

Daphne chuckled softly. "I've sort of realized that."

"You know, I always did feel Michael was a bit of the Romantic," John added. "Not just in love, but his emotions, his responses to both the horrific and the sublime. His affinity for music was a big clue." John kissed the top of his wife's head.

"Yeah. Wonder where he got his Romantic notions from, hm?" She smirked at him and turned back to Daphne. "Ravenclaw men. They might have intelligence and wit, but they all seem to have been touched with the heart of a poet. They let their emotions and feelings get the better of them."

Daphne felt a lump in her throat as she watched them hold hands.

Sarah was just about to say something else, but the soft fall of approaching footsteps signalled someone coming. Daphne spun around on the couch and saw Ginny approaching them, rather hesitantly. To Daphne's alarm, her face was red, as if she had been crying.

"Ginny? You all right?"

She nodded and gave her a watery smile. "Y-yeah."

And right next to her was—

"Holy s-stuffing!" Daphne caught herself just before the swearword escape from her lips. Cursing like a Slytherin in front of Michael's parents seemed like a horrible idea. She jumped up and ran over to her old blackmailing partner-in-crime. "I can't believe you're here, Colin!"

He laughed. "Yeah. Can't believe you're living with the Weasleys."

She smacked him. "Prat."

Colin nodded to the Corners. "Hiya, John, Sarah! Happy Christmas, yeah?"

"Happy Christmas to you too, Colin," John said, he and his wife smiling at him.

Suddenly, Colin's eyes widened. He pointed to the Corners and then to Daphne. "Hey! You've all met then, right?"

Daphne smiled. "I've been filling them in on how Michael's doing at school."

"Ah-ha! So you two are back on, I see." Colin winked and nodded slowly at her. "Hm-mmm!"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Stuff it, git!"

"Last year, Daphne was completely in love with Michael." Colin told the Corners, winking at them.

"We heard," John said, amused at Colin.

Daphne scrunched her face up like she was sucking a lemon. "I already told them."

Behind her, Ginny gasped, the identity of the two people on the couch finally hitting her.

"You're Michael's parents?"

"We are — oh! Ginny! Ginny Weasley! We've heard so much about you."

Sarah stood up, and held her hand out to the Gryffindor. Daphne looked at Ginny, who noticeably paled and gulped. "S-sure you have," she squeaked, rather uncharacteristically. It hit Daphne that Ginny was actually meeting Michael's parents for the first time, two years after she had dated their son.

She snorted.

(This is awkward.)

Daphne watched, trying desperately to hold back her laughter as a spluttering, red-faced Ginny shook the Corners' hands. "V-very lovely to meet you both! Michael's a saint! Wonderful bloke!"

Sarah gave her husband a bemused expression. "Well, that's good to know. Maybe he does take after me."

Colin snapped his fingers. "That's right! Ginny, you used to date Michael ages ago! Well," he said, flashing a horrible grin. "This is fun!"

"Shut it, Creevey!"

"Colin thinks he's funny," Sarah said, leaning over to Ginny and Daphne, but still speaking loud enough for Colin to hear her. "Just ignore him."

"All right, all right. I apologize. How about I make it up to all of you by taking a picture." He raised his camera up. "The film has a magical solution on it. It'll be ready for you in minutes! Daphne, you can take it back to school with you and show him."

Sarah let out a little gasp. "Wait a tick! That reminds me." She touched Daphne's arm. "Would it be all right to give you something to give to him back at school?"

"Darling, they're going to be searched. She might get in trouble."

"No, I'll try." Daphne bobbed her head very quickly. "I'm Head Girl. Most likely, I'll be doing the searching."

"Fred and George know charms that can conceal things too. We can ask for their help," Ginny offered.

Daphne turned back to Michael's mum. "I'll give whatever you want to Michael."

She smiled at her husband, who responded in kind. Her arm went behind her back and Sarah pulled out a folded and sealed letter from the pocket of her jeans.

"Here," she said, handing the parchment over to Daphne. "It's a letter that John and I wrote, after the attack in November. Mike'll probably roll his eyes and say that his mum's a sap. But can you give it to him?"

Even though Daphne was known more for her sarcasm than her sentimentality, there was no way she could tell this woman no. Sarah watched her, her eyes wet and hopeful, praying that she'd be able to deliver it to him. Without taking her eyes off of her, Daphne nodded. She hoped her face reflected just how serious she felt about what she had been entrusted with. "I'll make sure he gets it." She took the parchment into her hands.

Sarah pulled her into an embrace. "Thank you so much, Daphne."

John patted her shoulders. "It means a lot to us that you're willing to do this."

Daphne pulled away, embarrassed and blushing. She smiled, although it was rather shaky, and she turned to Colin, trying desperately to signal with her eyes to takethedampicturealready!

"All right! Let's do this." His voice was overly chipper, but a relieved Daphne pulled back and stood next to Sarah and John. Ginny, though stood off to the side — until Sarah beckoned for her to join them.

"Oh, come on, Gingersnap! It'll be fun." Daphne winked at her. Ginny turned red, but she grinned and rolled her eyes as she joined them.

"Great," Colin said, peering into the viewfinder. "On three, start waving and smiling like hell! Oh, and John?"

"Yes?"

"Give Sarah a nice holiday kiss for the photo. I'll bet Michael'll love that!"

John let out a hearty laugh.

"Okay." Colin held up his hand. "On three. One. Two. . . ."


They made it back to the Burrow after dark, but when the evening was still early.

As they walked through the wards surrounding the Burrow, Daphne let out a string of curses, whispered under her breath.

"What's wrong?" Ginny asked, leaning over to her, rubbing her hands together to keep them warm.

Daphne held up her D.A. Galleon. "I completely forgot that I had this! While I was talking to Michael's mum and dad." She looked at Ginny. "I could've used it to tell him I saw his parents. I could've let them talk to him with it. Dammit! You don't think he'll be angry with me that I didn't use it?"

Ginny shook her head. "Give him the letter and Colin's picture, and he'll be so overwhelmed with those that he won't even bring up the Galleon. If he asks, just be honest and tell him you forgot. And maybe it's better that you didn't use it; if you sent him a message that you were with his parents, Terry would've seen it. Who knows what could've happened next. This way, you can give him the letter and picture privately, and if he wants to share the information with others, he can."

"Right," she replied, distracted. They stepped onto the front porch of the Burrow, and paused, waiting for the adults to catch up. Both girls rubbed their arms, keeping themselves warm in the freezing winter air, despite being bundled up in layers and layers of coats. "Sorry. I'm still a bit thrown that I met his parents tonight. I don't even know if they liked me."

"I think they did. They were so happy to talk to someone who's close to Michael. At least that's the way it seemed to me."

Daphne nodded, but she seemed like she was a million miles away. "I hope they approve of me and him together." She groaned, rolling her eyes. "It's never mattered before, whether some bloke's parents approved of me as a girlfriend."

Ginny grinned. "Well, you've never been in love before, have you?"

She blushed, despite the freezing temperature. Soundlessly, she shook her head.

"Things like meeting the parents matter," Ginny continued, as her mum, dad and brother reached the house. "They liked you. Don't sweat it."

"Right now I'm not sweating anything." Daphne shivered as her breath came out in a little cloud of steam.

"Okay you two!" Molly chirped, opening the door. "Inside and we'll get some hot chocolate into all of our bodies. Warm them up!"

The Weasleys and Daphne entered the Burrow, Molly and the men checking around, making sure the premises hadn't been invaded since they left. They stepped out of their coats and winter clothes as Molly made her way into the kitchen to start heating up the hot chocolate.

Charlie ruffled Daphne's hair; she swatted his hand away, grinning. "So you met your boyfriend's parents, eh?"

"Yeah, I guess I did."

Charlie clicked his tongue. "It's all so overrated. Relationships."

Daphne raised her eyebrow. "You're single, then?"

Ginny laughed. "Charlie's never single. He has girlfriends coming out of his bum!"

He chuckled. "I'm not really the 'relationship' type—"

They jumped, startled at the sound of a teapot breaking.

"Arthur!" Molly gasped. The entire family ran over to her. "Arthur, Ron's hand!"

Ginny's heart stopped.

"Molly, sweetheart, what is it?"

Her hand was pressed against her mouth, the other pointing shakily at the Weasley family clock. "It's the first time I've ever seen it move. Right before my eyes."

The family peered closely at the clock. And Ron's hand had moved.

"He's 'Travelling'," Arthur said, squeezing her shoulders. His voice was on the verge of breaking.

Their eyes never left the clock until it settled back, somewhere between 'Mortal Peril' and 'Away'."