A/N: Severe writer's block stopped me from having this up faster. I apologize for the delay & for the fact that it's not very brilliant. It should be smooth sailing from here on out, though. Happy reading!

XxX

Katie's eyes saw, but did not comprehend. There was a loud ringing noise in her ears that drowned out the rest of the room and the exuberant noise of passersby. She was dimly aware of Michael gripping her shoulder, but everything else seemed lost in a wash of blended color.

Her father spoke, but Katie only heard confused sound. She screwed up her eyes tightly, determined to try again. This time, her vision was more focused.

"Michael? Katie?"

The familiar voice shook her to her senses, and she let out a half-sob as she launched herself toward him in a fit of anguish and was enveloped in the arms of a surprised Nicolas Bell.

"Whoa…Katie…Katie-did, what's the matter?" the man half-laughed, gripping her shoulders, for she was suddenly sobbing uncontrollably and digging her nails into the back of his old leather overcoat. "Calm down, calm down, it's alright…"

Katie said nothing, only buried herself deeper into his chest, thinking nothing, saying nothing. She was feeling too much to give proper thought or speech to her actions, and continued to let the irrepressible sobs burst out of her body. Her father was here. He was back. He was holding her. She cared for nothing else.

"What—what are you doing here?" Michael suddenly interrupted, speaking for the first time. He had not moved from the spot where he first stopped in the doorway. Alicia, who stood beside him, silently gave Lee a look telling him they ought to leave. He nodded shortly, and the two quietly left the small family to themselves.

Nicolas looked up over the top of Katie's head to where his son was observing him disbelievingly, his mouth as wide as if he had seen a ghost.

"Hi, Michael," he answered, grinning wryly and extending an arm to beckon him out of the door. "Brilliant costume. You've always had my sense of humor."

"But…but…" Michael continued to stammer as he stumbled toward his father. "Azkaban…you…"

"I was innocent, actually," Nicolas returned conversationally as he clapped his son on the back. "Hard to believe, I know…now. Why don't we take a walk?"

"Alright," Michael said, nodding slightly. "Let's…er…go, then."

XxX

Nicolas Bell was a fairly tall man, and looked much like his son, save for the wire-rimmed spectacles he wore on his nose. He, too, was broad shouldered, brown eyed, and had a shock of sandy brown curls that were slightly unruly by nature. Azkaban, however, had not been kind. He looked as though he had aged twelve years instead of the twelve months he had actually been absent. He was thin, his cheeks were hollow, and he had significant wrinkling around his kind eyes.

He walked with his two children in silence, Katie having resumed her post clinging tightly to the crook of his arm while Michael walked at a slight distance, casting furtive glances toward him.

"Kates, take those wings off, you look ridiculous," he said offhandedly, still keeping his eyes on his father.

Katie didn't respond, however. Indeed, she didn't appear to hear her brother at all. She walked on down the damp and bustling street without a word. In her silence, Michael frowned and reached for the wings himself.

Nicolas put up a hand to stop him. "Hold on there, Michael. It's not often I get to see my daughter acting appropriately feminine, let's not spoil it."

Michael frowned. "Are you going to tell us how it is you've come to be here? And where the hell Mum is, and why you're not with her?"

"If you like," Nicolas responded congenially, placing his free arm around his son's shoulders. "Though it would have been polite to say it was nice to see me first."

Michael shifted uncomfortably under this statement, but his father just laughed. "It's alright, I won't take it personally," he continued. "The truth is that my papers have only gone through about an hour ago. I was Disapparated from Azkaban to the Ministry, and learned from Kingsley that I could probably find my children at the Weasley's Wizard Wheezes Halloween party if I wanted to stop there first. I thought I'd see measure your reactions first in order to gauge what your mother's might be. And honestly, I'm afraid to see…"

"But why?" Michael blurted out. "What took so long to get you out? You were arrested ages ago, I've been following the release processes…you should have been out at least ten months ago!"

Nicolas shrugged uncomfortably, and his son instantly read into his thoughts.

"You were letting other people go before you," he stated. It was not a question.

Mr. Bell did not respond. Michael laughed loudly.

"You would," he said simply. "And what was the rationale behind that? Your positive mental attitude to carry you through Dementor attacks?"

"They've removed the Dementors actually," Nicolas returned conversationally. "Azkaban isn't half bad. Except for the rats."

Michael laughed again. Katie said nothing, but tightened her grip on her father's arm.

"Mum's going to kill you, you know," Michael said matter-of-factly. Nicolas grimaced.

"Oh, I know."

XxX

Andromeda Bell was attempting to dry the dishes and put away leftovers at the same time. Her household spells, despite her 25 years as a mother, had never been particularly impressive. And she hated it. She could never let her daughter know that, however. Katie had enough problems with applying domestic skills already, she did not need tacit encouragement from her own mother. Muttering to herself vaguely about ungrateful sisters who ate and then left with mysterious American boyfriends, she accidentally let a plate drop midair as she had turned her wand to wrapping the leftover lasagna. She swore under her breath and then bent down to retrieve the pieces.

"You know, you really ought to be more careful with the dinner things, Meda," a voice said behind her. "They were gifts from my mother. Rather expensive, I think."

She whirled around in horror, wand at the ready, only to find herself face to face with her husband.

She screamed.

XxX

"WHERE THE PICKING HELL HAVE YOU BEEN?" Mrs. Bell screeched.

Both Michael and Katie winced at the volume from where they hovered near the front door. Their father opened his mouth to answer, but his wife didn't wait for him.

"TWELVE BLOODY MONTHS! HUNDREDS OF LETTERS UNANSWERED! YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE BACK TEN MONTHS AGO!"

She threw her hands in the air and continued screaming.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE NOW? WHY AREN'T YOU STILL IN AZKABAN?"

Her husband smiled slightly. "Would you like me to go back?" he asked mildly.

"STOP IT!" she shouted, now attempting to pound her firsts into his chest. Nicolas grabbed her shoulders and held her at a distance, half smiling, half sighing.

"I can," he said again. "I'll just go see Kingsley…"

"Quit. Trying. To. Be. Funny!" she sobbed, now succeeding in her goal of physically attacking him.

"Okay, okay!" Nicolas said, raising his hands in surrender. "I won't. No jokes. I promise."

She paused for a moment, looking up at him with watery blue eyes and tear-stained cheeks. She seemed unsure of whether or not to trust this statement.

"I've missed you," he said quietly.

"Oh, Nicolas!" she cried, now surrendering completely and collapsing onto his chest. Meda Bell sobbed uncontrollably.

"That," Michael said calmly to his younger sister, "is what I expected you to do."

Katie looked up at her brother, slightly amused.

"But you've just been so ruddy silent," he continued. "Why? The world is running mad, and you don't care?"

"No," she answered mildly, looking back at their parents.

"And why not, might I ask?"

Katie simply smiled wanly. "Because he's home," she answered. "And he's never leaving us again."

She returned her gaze to her brother. "We're a family again," she said. "What else can possibly matter?"

He smiled down at her. "Yeah," he said quietly. "Yeah, you're right. We are."

XxX

The first day of November began clear and cold, and found George Weasley momentarily unaware of where he was. The perfectly white ceiling and soft bed sheets had him confused until he glanced to his left and found a pretty dark-haired young woman asleep next to him, her arm draped across his chest. Then he remembered.

Smiling in a way that his friends would no doubt recognize as extremely self satisfied, George stretched out and returned his gaze to the ceiling. He had done well last night. Lee would be proud of him. Hell, Fred couldn't have even seen anything in his conduct to correct. He would have chastised him for taking so long to reenter the fine world of women, surely, but that was nothing. He had succeeded. He, George Weasley, was back on top.

In a few minutes, Parvati would wake up and offer George breakfast, which he would refuse and then offer to take her to lunch later in the week, where he would then thank her for the evening but explain he wasn't looking to get involved with anyone seriously at the moment. He knew the routine well enough, and from what he had gathered about Parvati last night, and from what he remembered from school, she wouldn't take it too badly. Fun was fun, after all. And as for Katie and Oliver, well…at least he would have something to distract him now from that situation.

Yes, there could be no other opinion on the subject—George Weasley was back.

XxX

George made it out of Parvati's and at his own doorstep by ten o'clock. Letting himself in through the front door, he made his way up the stairs to take a shower. Entering the flat rather loudly, he disturbed the pair of people in the bed closest to the door. Emitting a muffled groan, Angelina's head appeared from underneath the sheets.

"Bloody hell, George, want to keep it down? Some of us have a ruddy hangover from your stupid party last night…"

"Where have you been?" Lee asked curiously, now sitting up as well and rubbing his eyes with the palm of his hand.

"Doesn't matter," George said quickly, entering the kitchen for a bit of toast and orange juice.

"Did you spend the night with someone…?" he continued, raising an eyebrow. George turned around with a smirk on his face.

"Bloody hell, you did!" Lee grinned. "I knew it, didn't I, Ange? I said that's where you were. Well, who was she, then?"

"Parvati Patil," George replied, downing the glass of juice he had just poured for himself.

"What?" Angelina exclaimed. "George, I can't believe you…that girl is young enough to still be in Hogwarts if she wanted to!"

"She's not though," was George's reply, to which Angelina rolled her eyes.

"Still," she protested. "I thought you had matured. You're acting just the way you did at school! Spending the night with Parvati Patil…honestly."

"So what if I did?" the redhead retorted defensively. "What's the big deal? You clearly spent the night with Lee, Katie spent the night with Oliver, I spent the night with a pretty girl I knew from Hogwarts…it all evens out!"

Lee and Angelina exchanged glances quickly and then returned their gazes to stare at him.

"What?" he asked weakly.

"George, I don't know what you're talking about or why you think that, but Katie definitely did not spend last night with Oliver," Angelina said quietly.

"What are you talking about, Ange? I saw them leave together…er, well, I practically did. One minute they're dancing, the next, they've disappeared. And you were the one who invited him to that club with you three…they obviously began whatever is going on there. Though Katie's still denying that, by the way…"

Angelina shook her head firmly. "George, Katie and Oliver never even saw each other that night…I invited him, yeah, I admit it, but she left before he even got there. And last night, I don't know where Oliver went, but it wasn't anywhere with Katie. She was with…"

Here, she trailed off and glanced at Lee for support. Lee grimaced and then looked at his friend. "You'll never guess who turned up here last night, mate," he said.

"Who?" George asked, feeling his pulse begin to quicken. Again, the couple on the bed exchanged glances.

"Katie's dad," Angelina said finally.

George felt the balloon that was in his stomach turn to lead, dragging him down until he felt he had fallen through the floorboards of the flat, the shop, and into the cellar.

"Bloody hell," was all he could manage.

XxX