Haimish: homey; cozy and unpretentious.

May 31, 2000

Outside of Genie Realty (Number 49 Diagon Alley, Your wish is our command!) Mandy Montgomery was trying to close a deal. Her wide violet eyes took in her clients hungrily, like a pelican about to gulp down two of the biggest fish it had ever seen. She noticed a diamond engagement ring glittered on the girl's hand, but outside of that Mandy would ordinarily take very little interest in these scruffy teenagers, especially knowing that violently red hair and smattering of freckles indicated a Weasley connection. But even if he didn't look like much, it was impossible to take little interest in Harry Potter, and, most importantly, everyone knew he was loaded.

"Mr. Potter, I really think that manner outside of Bristol would suit you perfectly," she said, smiling broadly at him and reaching into her python skin bag to pull out the pictures of the high stone arches and handsome hedge rows. She paid no attention at all to his fiancée tucked under his arm. Those celebrities were always getting engaged and breaking it off.

"Er," said Harry, looking sideways at Ginny. "I don't think so. I mean, what would we do with all the rooms?"

"Why, fill them with distinguished guests, I'm sure," Mandy Montgomery told him as if speaking to a small child. "But if you didn't like that one, the penthouse in London would be simply marvelous. Close to work, plenty of space, lots of night life."

"And all that gaudy guild work," Ginny added, making a face. "Not to mention the stuck up neighbors. Did you hear that one couple in the lift? Complaining about 'Mrs. Number Nine's tarnished doorknob'."

"Well, it is a fine establishment that requires upkeep on the part of the tenants," Mandy said loftily, not looking in Ginny's direction. "But if you're not ready to commit to that, there's always –"

"The twelve achers in Sussex, the beach house in Cornwall, or even an island off the coast," Harry interrupted, rolling his eyes. "Look, Ms. Montgomery –"

"Oh, honey, please call me Mandy," she interrupted with a wave of her hand.

"I don't think any of those places were exactly what we were looking for." He glanced down at Ginny.

"We're not really into flashy," she supplied helpfully.

Mandy gave her a patronizing, faux smile before turning her attention once again to Harry. "It does take some getting used to, especially when you've lived in much less. But I think you'll grow into an upper class very quickly." She pulled a tube of bight magenta lipstick out of her bag and began applying it liberally. "Tomorrow we'll look up north a little more. I think there's a wonderful castle you might like. Of course, it will take a bit of work, but it will be worth your galleons, trust me!"

Harry and Ginny made as quick of an escape as they could, practically flying down Diagon Alley once they'd extricated themselves from the sharp, brightly painted nails of their realtor.

"She gives me the creeps," Harry told Ginny as they burst out of the Leaky Cauldron into Muggle London.

Ginny rubbed his shoulder sympathetically. "She's a vulture for sure, but, Harry, if we don't find somewhere soon, we're going to be living with my parents for the rest of our lives. The wedding's in less than two weeks!"

"I'd rather live with your parents than in any of those glorified tombs. You could hear our footsteps echo in every inch of those places. It's weird."

Ginny nodded, lacing her fingers through his and swinging their intertwined hands. "But what about the beach house? It was nice. Close enough to Bill and Fleur, and I won't lie, that bathtub was practically a swimming pool, and I loved it."

Harry squirmed a little. "Don't you think it was a bit… much?"

"Well, we've got the money, haven't we?" Ginny asked softly. "I don't want to live in a castle, but we don't have to cut corners exactly, do we?"

Harry squirmed a little more. "No, we don't, but…. I dunno, is that where you want to live?"

Ginny sighed and pulled him around to face her as they reached the street corner. "Where do you want to live? You know, you've already got a house…."

"I already told you," Harry said quickly. "I can't live in Grimauld Place." He shuddered. "Too many memories. And besides, it's way too infested with every creepy thing on the planet to ever be really livable. Best to just let it languish."

Ginny bit her lip, looking intently at him for a few seconds. "C'mon, let's go for a walk," she said at last. And she seized his wrist and dragged him into a nearby alley where they could disapperate.

"Where are we?" Harry asked, blinking in the fading light as a vastly different setting from the towering buildings of London materialized around them.

"Just a place," Ginny said, setting off along a dirt road that wound its way through a tunnel of swaying trees and clearings dappled with wildflowers. Harry jogged a few paces to catch up with her and she looped her arm through his. "Ms. Montgomery took me out here that first day I went to see her, before she knew you were my fiancée. There's something I think you might like."

Ginny suddenly turned off the road, pulling Harry down a path he had scarcely noticed among all the shrubbery. A crooked gate hung off a white fence, half-hidden in vines, and when Ginny pushed it open, it creaked.

A small country house stood in the golden twilight. A stepping-stone path meandered up to a little front porch, a slightly lopsided chimney stuck up in the back, and the white fence ran all along the perimeter of the lot, all four corners of which Harry could see from where he stood.

"Eat-in kitchen, more than three armchairs in the living room and you won't be able to walk, one bathroom, and a potting shed out back," Ginny reeled off in a pretty good imitation of Mandy Montgomery. "But there are four bedrooms and as a bonus, a scullery and plenty of room to add on for that big family I'm supposedly having." She rolled her eyes and dropped the impersonation. "What do you think, love?"

Harry, who'd been grinning a little at her act, turned to study the house. "I think it's brilliant," he admitted, running a hand along the weathered fence and grinning again as flakes of paint came away in his hand. "But, Gin, where are we?"

Ginny sucked the inside of her cheek. "I know you don't like coming here except with Hermione on Christmas Eve," she began, and something settled in the pit of Harry's stomach. "But I just thought it was worth looking at. Godric's Hollow is where you're from, after all. It's where your parents are. I thought it might finally feel like home."

She fell silent, watching him anxiously. Harry looked back at the house, the less-than-polished surfaces, the trees that hid it from view of the country lane. He thought of a cottage not far away, of a little church and its kissing gate that he'd walked through three times.

"Don't suppose our footsteps would echo in there," he finally said, wrapping an arm around Ginny and looking down at her.

"No, they wouldn't," she smiled.

"And the bathtub probably isn't a swimming pool."

She shook her head. "But does it feel like home?"

Harry looked back at the house with its lopsided chimney and flaking paint. "I reckon it just might."

A/N: oh, Mandy won't be too pleased, will she? I like to think this house is sort of a combination of the Burrow and Harry's parents' cottage before it got destroyed. Home for both of them. Anyway, here's your daily reminder to drop me a line! :) Thank you all!