Thank you all for your continued patience as I eek out the last section of this story. As always, a huge round of applause for my betareader, Mikkisteele. They are a lifesaver.
The world of Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling.
Chapter Forty-Three
Mrs. Weasley was still in a state the next morning when they all came down for breakfast. It seemed that the thought of the Minister for Magic spending Christmas with them had kept her from sleeping well. Dark bags stood out under her eyes as she checked and rechecked three long pieces of parchment on the table in front of her. "Morning," she said with a yawn as Heather and Ginny walked into the kitchen. Mr. Weasley, who still looked tired but not nearly as bad as his wife, was reading the morning paper. Catching a quick glance as Mrs. Weasley moved to fix the two of them plates, Heather saw that what she had been going over were lists of chores that needed to be done over the next few days.
Breakfast was not a peaceful affair. Mrs. Weasley scurried this way and that while everyone else ate. Twice she nearly tripped and only narrowly avoided sending plates of sausages and toast skittering the length of the table. "Mum, relax," Ginny said through a stifled yawn. "It's not like Kingsley hasn't eaten with us before. He used to be over all the time when we were at Grimmauld Place."
Mrs. Weasley sighed in exasperation as she righted herself again. "But that was before he was the Minister."
"Who else is coming?" Heather asked, somehow hoping this would lead to distracting Mrs. Weasley from her preoccupation.
"Charlie, George, and Ron," Mrs. Weasley said off handedly. Then she clapped her hand to her forehead and went a few shades paler. "Not to mention your friends, I'd completely forgotten!" She stared at Mr. Weasley plaintively. "We won't have room for everyone!"
Before her father could reply, Ginny saw an opportunity and decided to take it. "Well," she began innocently, "I'm sure Susan and Luna would understand and be more than happy t-"
"No, no," Mrs. Weasley brushed the idea aside without looking away from her husband. "We've already invited them and it would be rude to cancel. Besides," she added as an afterthought," then they'd have to spend Christmas all alone in that house. No, they'll have to come."
Ginny returned to her breakfast and muttered under her breath. Heather only caught every third word or so but understood enough to hear that if Ginny had had her way Susan wouldn't have been invited in the first place. "Everything will be fine, Molly," Mr. Weasley said reassuringly and guided Mrs. Weasley back to her seat.
"Are Bill and Fleur not coming?" Heather asked. She didn't bother asking about Percy. The rift between him and the rest of his family might have been better than it once was, but she wasn't going to bring him up if no one else did.
"They're staying in this year," Mr. Weasley replied. "Their first married Christmas was hardly what they'd hoped for, so they'll make up for it this year."
"And thank goodness for that," Mrs. Weasley chimed in abruptly. After realizing how that had come out she blushed and added, "What I mean is that if they were coming we'd be eating in the yard."
As she munched on a mouthful of buttered toast, Heather mentally counted up the guests for Christmas dinner. With the Weasleys who were coming, herself, Susan, Luna, and Kingsley there would be ten of them squeezed around the scrubbed oak table in the Burrow's alrighty cramped kitchen. A quick glance out the window at the snow-covered ground outside forced her to agree that it would be best if no one else decided to come.
"I'm sure we'll see them before you two go back to school," Mr. Weasley added. He folded his paper and slid back from the table. "Right then, it's time for me to get to work. Try to relax, Molly," he said as he kissed his wife on the cheek.
As soon as the door swung closed behind him Mrs. Weasley set to work with a will. Ginny and Heather scarfed down what was left on their plates and were immediately banished to the upper reaches of the house where they would be out of Mrs. Weasley's way. They passed the morning together in Ginny's room where Heather found herself spending most of her time trying to keep Ginny's mind off the fact that her girlfriend would be here in only a few days.
When it became obvious that nothing she said would make a difference and that Ginny would be moody no matter what, Heather gave up and lapsed into silence. Instead she listened to the mixture of sounds filtering up through the house. If she hadn't known better she might have thought that Mrs. Weasley was fighting a desperate battle against half a dozen armed men trying to break in. This impression wasn't helped by the fact that the ghoul in the attic had decided to get in on the fun by clanging pipes together loudly, adding to the cacophony.
The next few days were not the fun or relaxing start of break Heather had been hoping for. Mrs. Weasley kept herself busy from the time Mr. Weasley left from work until when he got home, and they all ate dinner. She cleaned and recleaned the kitchen and living room several times as the week progressed. Trying both to help and get some peace from the storm cloud that was Ginny, Heather asked Mrs. Weasley if she could help with anything from wiping down counters to folding laundry. "Oh no, dear. You're on holiday," Mrs. Weasley said in flat denial every time Heather offered. "You go upstairs and rest."
The trouble was that Heather had started to feel a bit stir crazy sitting around all day. Normally she would have found some way to escape the house, either by flying in the paddock up the hill or slipping up to London. Unfortunately, a combination of horrid weather and the fact that she had left her Nimbus at school kept her grounded. Heavy rain pelted the house, rattling the windows and casting a gloomy pall over an already unsatisfying break from school. Rather than risking Errol in these conditions, Heather sent a letter to Andromeda Tonks using the floo network, asking herself over to tea one afternoon. It took less than half an hour for the Andromeda to write back saying that Teddy was suffering from a cold and that it wouldn't be a good idea for her to come over.
All in all, Heather was more than ready for Christmas morning to arrive. As the very least she'd get to spend some time with Ron. Mrs. Weasley's prediction that he would be too busy with work to visit had been spot on. Other than a brief note saying he was working but had made sure to be off for Christmas, there hadn't been any contact with Ron since she'd arrived at the Burrow. So, when her eyes fluttered open on Christmas morning and fell on a fuzzy looking pile of presents stacked precariously on her bedside table, her heart soared.
Jamming her glasses into place, she snatched the top parcel from the stack. Immediately the pile toppled, sending the next two to the floor. Judging by the way one of the items landed on the rug with a solid sounding thud, Hermione must have gotten her a book for Christmas. The one she had grabbed turned out to be the one she'd been most excited about opening. Neville's present was a small bottle of perfume in a silk wrapped box. Placing a tiny spray on her wrist, Heather's nose was suddenly suffused with a flowery scent that reminded her strongly of the enchanted forest in Firenze's classroom.
Setting the bottle carefully on her nightstand, Heather dove into the rest of the pile. The next one she could identify before she'd evens started unwrapping it. Mrs. Weasley had made her the usual sweater; this year it was the same shade of green as her eyes. Hagrid had sent her a large tin of fudge that she bit into greedily. George and Ron had gone in together on a large supply of Weasley Wizards Wheezes products including, to Heather's horror, a bottle of love potion. Knowing this last addition was from the elder of the two brothers, she shoved it back into the box and moved on.
Downstairs a festive air had finally driven away the gloom of the previous week. In addition to cleaning, Mrs. Weasley had spent yesterday evening decorating every spare inch of the ground floor. Glittering silver tinsel crisscrossed overhead and bunches of holly hung from every lamp and wreathed the many photographs along the walls. Lastly, the delicious scents of Mrs. Weasley's cooking suffused the air making Heather's stomach grumble appreciatively.
"Merry Christmas!" shouted George as he staggered into the kitchen as best he could. Heather's confusion as to why he had to duck to get through the door was answered the moment George came fully inside. He was wearing a bright red top hat that was half as tall as he was. Even as he stood straight it brushed the ceiling and nearly fell off. Like the decorations, it too was wrapped in holly and was topped with a large, golden star. When at last she was able to tear her eyes away from that spectacle, Heather saw that George had completed his holiday ensemble with green robes the same shade as an evergreen tree from which were hanging at least two dozen ornaments of various shapes and sizes. They were pinned all up and down his front, back, and both sleeves.
Following in his wake, and dressed far more normally, were Ron, Susan, and Luna. Ron's presents had been sent ahead to Grimmauld Place, and judging by the fact that he was already wearing his own sweater he hadn't bothered waiting to open them. To Heather's surprise, Susan and Luna had also received the handiwork of Mrs. Weasley's knitting. Susan's sweater was canary yellow with a black collar and cuffs while Luna's was deep blue trimmed with bronze. Perhaps because their presents were rush jobs, Mrs. Weasley had forgone the usual initials or animal she usually decorated her sweaters with.
Once they had all recovered from the shock of George's appearance, choruses of "Merry Christmas" rang through the air. Everyone exchanged hugs, which was quite difficult to do particularly when they were all forced to give George as wide a berth as possible. He moved around in wide, sweeping steps that ensured the maximum number of ornaments clashed against each other with each movement. His mother was the only one present who was able to keep a straight face. Outwardly she looked furious. "What were you thinking?" she barked as George leaned over to place a kiss on her cheek. "And with the Minister coming tonight." It was only after George moved off to shake hands with his father that Heather saw her glare fade into a soft smile. She looked away quickly when she caught sight of a small tear form at the edges of Mrs. Weasley's right eye.
"We ought to put a body bind curse on him and stick him in a corner," Ron called out across the calamity. "Frees up a seat at dinner and means more food for us!"
"Always thinking with your stomach," Heather laughed as she threw her arms around him. She felt him flinch slightly. She knew that Ron's only real holdout to her transition was being hugged by his formerly male friend, and she was determined to make him get used to it.
Over breakfast, Ron and Heather sat next to each other so that she could press him on news from the Auror Office. "It's been a right pain in the arse," Ron told her quietly. "You'd have thought that after we'd wrapped up most of the death eaters' things would've calmed down."
Heather eyed him closely. "Your dad told me some of it the other day."
"He did?" Ron asked sharply in an undertone.
Heather nodded and glanced around to see if they were being overheard. Everyone else at the table was carrying on loudly and seemed oblivious to anything else. "Yeah, I'm meeting with Kingsley tonight after dinner. That's why he's coming over. Didn't you know that?"
Ron looked dumbfounded. "No, I didn't. If the office was told, then news didn't trickle down to my level. What're you two talking about?"
Heather opened her mouth to reply then thought better of it. She didn't think that Ron would blurt it out, but Mr. Weasley's warnings of the ramifications of her request to Kingsley were still ringing in her ears. "That thing I was upset about over the summer, at the dedication ceremony," she replied cryptically.
Ron blinked slowly three times. "Snape?" he mouthed. When Heather nodded, Ron gulped once and then shook his head. "Better you than me." Then, in a louder voice he asked, "By the way, where's Hermione?"
"At her parents. They wrote to her just before we left school."
Something about Ron's expression at this gave Heather the idea that he still was not entirely over Hermione. It wasn't the first time he'd given her this impression, but she knew better than to try and get in the middle of it. Hermione had made it clear to her that she and Ron were done, but that didn't necessarily mean that he had gotten the hint. For a moment, Heather thought about asking how Ron and Padma were doing, but changed her mind thinking it would be too obvious of a change of subject.
Charlie arrived shortly after lunch, dressed not in a Weasley sweater, but in a pair of worn jeans and a dragonhide jacket. Although she didn't think it had anything to do with his arrival exactly, it was around this time that Heather noticed the start of an edge of tension forming in the air. She wasn't sure whether it was Mrs. Weasley or Ginny who was the source, but underneath the babble something was beginning to grow.
Everyone was packed into the small living room. Ron and George, who had taken off his ridiculous hat for the time being, were playing exploding snap loudly in front of the fireplace while Luna and Charlie, who were seated on either side of Heather on the couch, started talking about magical creatures. Luna it seemed had a fascination with beasts that Heather was glad to learn extended beyond just the ones her father had told her about. Not having much to add to this conversation, Heather listened interestedly as Charlie told Luna about his work with dragons. She remembered that Ron or George had told her over the summer that he had moved back to England and started working at a reserve in Wales but hadn't heard much about it since.
Meanwhile, Susan and Ginny had taken up seats on either end of the room from each other and were doing a good job of not looking at each other. When she took her attention away from Charlie's stories, Heather saw that Susan was now in deep conversation with Mr. Weasley. It seemed that Mr. Weasley had found out that she was a N.E.W.T. Muggle Studies student and was insisting that he show her his garage. A few minutes later, pursued by an exasperated look from his wife and a dour one from his daughter, he pratically rushed Susan from the house and into the snow. They didn't return for nearly an hour during which Ginny barely seemed to be breathing.
In various degrees of speed, the hours passed and outside the windows they could all see the sun dipping towards the horizon. By now the pressure in the air wa so palpable that Heather feared that if someone opened a window they would all be sucked out through it in a rush of air. At last there was a quiet tap on the kitchen door and everyone fell instantly silent. "He's here," cried Mrs. Weasley in a hoarse whisper that could easily have been mistaken for a moan. Mr. Weasley rose from his armchair where he'd been pretending to doze, stretched, and walked through to the kitchen followed by his wife.
From her seat on the couch, Heather had a mostly clear view to the door and saw Kingsley step inside. Instead of the usual deep purple robes she had grown accustomed to seeing him in, he was dressed in festive green robes covered by a stained traveling cloak. His bald head was uncovered, something Heather felt was unwise considering how cold it must be outside.
"Molly, Arther," Kingsley intoned in his slow voice as he sloughed out of his cloak. "Thank you so much for having me."
"Not at all," said Mr. Weasley.
"Welcome, Minister, please have a seat…or-" Mrs. Weasley stammered.
"Molly, please." Kinglsey chuckled. Heather had the idea that he'd somehow been warned that Mrs. Weasley hadn't reacted all that well to the news of his joining them. "It's still Kingsley between old friends and on today of all days."
"Right, of course. Sorry," said Mrs. Weasley who had gone very red in the face. "Kingsley," she added when he seemed to be waiting for her to relax.
Glancing around the sparkling kitchen, Kingsley extracted a bottle from within the folds of his cloak. "I trust you'll accept this as a thank you for inviting me. I would have offered to bring a dessert, but I'm downright horrible in the kitchen."
Heather overheard Mr. Weasley let out a low whistle as he inspected the label on the bottle. "Kingsley, this wine is over a hundred years old. We can't possibly accept-"
"Oh yes you can." Kingsley said, pressing the bottle firmly into Mr. Weasley's hands.
Mr. Weasley hesitated for a second. "Well, would you like to come through? Supper won't be ready for a little while longer."
Everyone tried to affect the appearance of being at ease as the Kingsley entered the room. Ron and George resumed their game, Ginny and Susan went back to trying to pretend the other wasn't there, and Luna, who as far as Heather could tell was the only person wholly uninterested in the arrival of the Minister for Magic, continued leafing through a book on magical creatures that Charlie had given her. Heather, who was the closest to the entrance, was the first person Kingsley reached. Seeing an empty space next to her, Kingsley settled into the couch. After greeting her he gave her a look that very plainly told her their real conversation would take place later.
Half an hour later they were all sitting down at the groaning table, greedily taking in the feast Mrs. Weasley had laid out for them. Heather was midway down the table between George and Susan, facing Ron. As it had all afternoon, conversation flowed freely in all directions. Luna and Charlie, who shared one end of the table, fell back into talking about careers with magical beasts while Mr. and Mrs. Weasley kept Kingsley entertained at the opposite end.
Sitting across from her, Ron, who was between his sister and Luna, asked, "So, Heather? You and Neville got together, I hear." On his right Ginny rolled her eyes at his bluntness before promptly ignoring him again.
"That's right," Heather said. "Since the quidditch game against Slytherin."
George lightly tapped at her ribs with his elbow. "You didn't slip him a love potion, did you?" he teased.
"No, I did not. And I don't need one now thank you very much." Heather retorted good naturedly. "Just because you need help to get a girl to go out with you doesn't mean I do."
George smirked brightly. "Ooh, trying to go out with a girl now too, are you? Isn't our good Mr. Longbottom enough?"
Heather caught the slight tilt in Ginny's head. Clearly she felt this conversation was edging in on dangerous territory. "No, I'm not." Heather said flatly. Then, to try and distract both Ron and George in case they'd noticed Ginny's reaction, she added, "and trust me when I say that Neville is plenty."
George took the bait. He leaned in closer with his most mischievous grin and said, "Oh now you have to tell us."
Heather blushed but refused to back down. She could always trust George to take any comment she might make as far as possible. Across from her, Ron had gone pink. Apparently his long friendship with Neville was stopping him from pursuing the tropic further. In fact Heather thought he might now be regretting bringing it up at all. Thinking quickly, Heather whispered into George's ear, "Get your mind out of the gutter or I'll use that present you sent me and make you fall in love with a flesh eating slug."
Playing his part through to the end, George chuckled and returned to his plate, allowing Heather to do the same. She thought she'd handled that rather well and turned her attention to Charlie. "Oh, dragons aren't' so bad once you get to know them," he was telling Luna. "That doesn't mean you don't need to be care-"
"So who are you seeing then," Ron suddenly asked Ginny.
Ginny had a mouthful of turkey and began to choke. Once her breathing had returned to something approaching normal she spluttered, "What-what makes you think I'm with someone?" Before Ron could answer she managed to get her voice under control enough to add icily, "not that it's any of your business anyway."
"Erm, how's the shop doing, George?" Heather asked just loudly enough to try and draw attention back to herself.
In true fashion however, Ron refused to let the matter go. The fact that his sister didn't want to answer had never held him back from sticking his nose into her private life and the fact that Heather now seemed to be trying to cover for her didn't help. "It's obvious you two are hiding something," he said splitting his focus between Heather and Ginny. "I'm not an idiot you know. You were on a date that weekend I came up to Hogsmeade, and I think I've got a right to know who it is."
Ginny's eyes filled with a fire that would make almost anyone else back off. She faced Ron as best as she could while remaining seated and whirled her fork at his face as though it were a wand. "If you don't mind your own business then I'll shove it so far up your arse you won't be able to find it again."
"Ginny," chided a shocked Mrs. Weasley. "I did not raise you to use that sort of language, particularly not in front of company. My apologies, Kingsley," she continued. Kingsley waved away her apology but looked extremely embarrassed.
Under the cover of all of this, Heather leaned in close to George and whispered, "can you please help." She didn't exactly know if George would take Ginny's side in the matter, but she was out of any better options.
"Ron, drop it." George said firmly across the table. "If Ginny wants to keep her special someone a secret, then that's up to her."
"But," Ron replied, looking slightly betrayed. "She's our sister, we've got a right to know."
"Why?" asked George seriously. "Cause we have to protect her? In case you haven't noticed, little bro, our sister is more than capable of taking care of herself these days."
"You didn't used to think that," Ron retorted.
George shrugged. "Maybe, but things change. It's pretty obvious that Ginny won't need us to beat up any bloke that breaks her heart anymore. She's more than capable of doing that herself." He leaned forward to look directly at Ginny. "Just do me a favor will you? Let me know when that happens so I can pull up a chair and watch."
Surprised and gratified at this offhanded compliment, Ginny glowered at Ron. "Thank you, George. At least one of my brothers has their head somewhere other than up their arse."
"Hey-" Charlie began to protest at being caught in the crossfire.
"Children," Mr. Weasley said pointedly down the table, "what's going on down there."
"Ron's being an arse," Ginny replied, earning her another scolding from her mother.
Susan, who had stayed thankfully quiet, said in a low voice in Heather's ear. "I'm beginning to understand just why Ginny wanted to keep us a secret."
Heather nodded. "Honestly, I think she's worrying about nothing. Everyone in this family accepted me easily enough, but I guess it's different with actual family." She was about to say more when she saw Ron eyeing her carefully.
Dessert followed dinner, by which time everyone felt far too full to be able to eat anything else. It hadn't helped Heather's appetite that the end of dinner meant that the time for her conversation with Kingsley was drawing rapidly closer. The nearer it got, the harder it was to feel calm about it. As if he had read her mind, Kingsley slid his chair back from the table and got up to address the table. "Molly, Arthur, I want to thank you again for inviting me. I hope you all have had a very merry Christmas." He looked over at Heather. "If you're done eating?"
Heather stared at her empty plate and took a deep breath. Every eye in the room was suddenly fixed on her. It was as though Kingsley had gone from dinner guest back to Minister for Magic in the span of a heartbeat. "Right, yeah." Heather sighed, getting up. She wondered where Kingsley would choose for them to speak and was dismayed to see him grab his cloak. It was going to be freezing outside.
Through the door and out into the snow-covered garden, Kingsley kept his silence. Snow and ice crunched under their feet as they walked down the path towards the bench at the edge of the frozen pond. Heather had her hands crammed into her pockets and watched as her breath coiled away in front of her face. Why couldn't he have just walked into the living room?
Kingsley who, by comparison, looked exceedingly warm in his thick cloak stopped when he reached the bench-shaped formation of snow and pulled out his wand. He waved it through the air several times, adding extra protection to an area of space within the already extensive wards of the Burrow. One of his layers, Heather was happy to feel, was a warming charm. Heather likewise drew her own wand and muttered, "Muffliato."
Satisfied that there was no chance of them being overheard by anyone, not even a garden gnome, Kingsley restored his wand to its pocket and looked down at her. "Heather, I'd like to apologize for the lengths I've had to go to in order to have this talk. Arthur told me some of your reaction to my conditions and I'd like to start off by making sure you understand that I have no intention of dismissing you out of hand."
Heather eyed him, her memory of the last time she tried bringing this up with him bubbling to the surface of her mind. "It won't make you a very popular Minister," she said.
Kingsley smiled genially. "No, but it seems like nothing I do is making me very popular. So, tell me what it is you're asking for. Your letter mentioned Snape and I have to assume this has something to do with his name on the memorial at Hogwarts."
Heather nodded and took a steadying breath. She'd spent days working on how to phrase her argument but now that it was time, her head felt very muddled. "It does." She paused long enough to form a coherent statement. "He should be on there with everyone else who died fighting Riddle that night."
In the dim light filtering out of the windows, Heather saw Kingsley's face become grim. "I remember you holding that position the night of the dedication. I didn't have time to tell you then that he was considered when plans were made to create it. But other voices shut me down on the idea."
"Let me guess, McGonagall." Heather said, not needing to ask.
Kingsley gave a short nod. "Among others, yes. Snape's role in Riddle's downfall isn't widely known, even after your speech. It's easier for everyone to think of him as Dumbledore's killer and Voldemort's spy rather than a complicated hero."
"You mean that people would rather accept an easy lie than face an uncomfortable truth," Heather replied, remembering Mr. Weasley saying that a few days ago. "But that isn't the problem, Kingsley. People can believe whatever they want. The fact that they think he's a murderer and traitor doesn't change the truth of what he actually was. The problem is when the Ministry supports that idea when they, when you know better. Continuing to deny the truth, even through inaction, is unacceptable. You told me months ago that you were rebuilding the Ministry the way that it should be, not the easy way."
"And don't you think I've done that?" Kingsley said shortly. The cracks in his persona surfaced for an instant before he was able to control them again. After a deep breath he went on, "I'm sorry. This situation isn't your fault, but I won't lie and say you're making my job any easier."
Heather crossed her arms and stared him down. "I know I'm not, but this is what you agreed to when you took the job. It's what I agreed to when I became an auror, when you asked me to become an auror." She emphasized the word 'you' and stopped long enough to ensure he picked up on it. "I never blamed you for what happened to me, not even at my worst. But saying yes to you made my life hell until I finally got my head back on straight."
"So what are you saying, Heather? That I owe you one?" Kingsley asked her honestly.
Heather shook her head. "No, you don't owe me anything. No one has ever owed me for anything I've done. I did what I had to do. I've always done what I've had to do. I even hope that I will continue doing that in the future, but we'll have to see what happens. No, Kingsley. You don't owe me anything. You owe this to yourself, the ministry, the wizarding world, and to the truth. You said earlier that you were shouted down when you suggested Snape's name for the memorial. That tells me that you wanted him to be added." She waited for Kingsley to nod in answer to this statement. "Mr. Weasley told me you aren't a politician like Fudge was, but that you have to bend to the politics of your office. Well, I've put a lot of thought into this and here's my suggestion. Blame it on me. Use me as an out for making this decision. Say to anyone and everyone who wants to fight you on this that I have hard proof of Snape's true allegiances during the war that I only shared with you on the condition you kept it to yourself. Make it clear that I gave you no choice."
Kingsley mulled this offer over. "It won't make you very popular," he said, mirroring her earlier comment.
Heather shrugged and set her shoulders. "Who cares. Anyone who wants to drag my name through the mud is free to do so. I've been there before. Besides, by the time this all comes out I'll be safely back at Hogwarts. With any luck, it'll all have blown over by the end of the year."
Laughter reverberated through the bubble of Kingsley's wards as he laughed. "You ought to consider another career at the Ministry when you leave school. You may not want to hear it, but you've got a mind for politics."
"Over my dead body," Heather replied with a smile. "Does that mean you'll consider it?"
Kingsley inclined his head. "I will. I can't make this decision alone, and I'm not saying I've made up my own mind about it. But using your name will certainly make things easier. Whatever I decide, I'll send word to you through Arthur when I reach a decision. You'd best get inside before anyone starts to think something's wrong. Good night, Heather, and Merry Christmas."
The short stretch between the pond and the Burrow's door was enough to chill Heather to the bone. The kitchen was empty when she stepped inside and felt the warmth of the house pour over her. Her mind was still racing with implications of what Kingsley had said and the left over emotion of the conversation. She glanced at the heap of dishes still littering the table and was just about to start gathering them up when Mrs. Weasley gave a loud cry from the living room. All thought of keeping to herself abandoned, Heather skittered into the living room just in time to see Mrs. Weasley pull first Ginny and then Susan into a bone crushing hug that threatened to suffocate them if it went on for very long. From the wireless, Celestina Warbeck crooned out the last few bars as Ginny wept openly onto her mother's sleeve.