The door swung open under Percy's hand. Hmmmm. It shouldn't have done that... he thought. He cautiously peered into the flickering semi-darkness of the sitting room. I didn't leave a fire burning. His eyes flicked across the room, and one brow rose slowly. 'How did you get in here?' he demanded.

'Do you really think Gryffindors and Slytherins are the only ones with tricks up their sleeves?' a gently mocking voice replied.

Percy closed the door behind him and leaned against it, examining the willowy blonde woman occupying his favorite chair. 'No, I suppose not.'

'Those charms you have on the door might be enough to outwit ordinary witches or wizards –'

'And you're hardly an ordinary witch,' Percy chuckled. He pulled his cloak off his shoulders and hung it neatly on a hook next to the door. 'I ought to teach the door knocker more difficult riddles.'

'Pffft,' the woman dismissed. 'You stole the idea from our dormitory.'

'A most excellent idea it was, too,' Percy snorted. He advanced on the chair, placing his hands on each arm and leaning forward, gently kissing the woman sitting there. 'To what do I owe the honor of your presence, Pen?'

Penelope Clearwater tugged at Percy's arms until he relented and wedged himself into the chair with her. 'My flatmate's idea of a fun evening is organizing her sock drawer,' she complained.

'Isn't your flatmate Marion Trimbill from our year? And wasn't she a Ravenclaw as well?'

'Yes, and she's actually quite boring, I've come to discover.'

Percy grasped one of Penny's curls between his fingertips and pulled until it was nearly straight, releasing it so it bounced back into place. 'She was your best friend in school,' he scoffed.

'I know.' Penny shifted a little. 'But even you do something a bit wild and insane from time to time.'

Percy threw his head back and laughed. 'That curry place in Piccadilly Circus was quite an adventure, wasn't it?'

'More than a bit,' Penny retorted wryly. 'I thought smoke was going to pour out of your ears.'

Percy's hand crept up and began to massage the back of her neck. 'Up for more adventure?'

'Absolutely.'

Percy tilted his head to look at Penny. 'Fancy joining me for lunch on Sunday?'

Penny bit her lip doubtfully. 'Don't you have lunch with your family on Sundays?'

'Yes.'

She sat back a little. 'Have you even mentioned to them you've been seeing me?'

Percy toyed with Penny's hair. 'No,' he admitted shamefacedly.

Penny glanced at Percy reproachfully. 'Not once in the past five months has there been an opportunity for you to simply state, "Mum, Dad, I'm seeing someone." Not even a tiny gap in the conversation?'

Percy wriggled from the chair. He paced the length of the sitting room, which wasn't very long. He tugged at the precise knot of his tie, loosening it slightly, a sure sign of distress. 'There never seemed to be a good time,' he explained. 'First there was the investigation into my actions – or lack of them the previous three years. Then Harry was injured, and George disappeared. And the Death Eater trials started...' He pushed his glasses up, rubbing his gritty eyes. Percy knelt in front of the chair and rested his hands on Penny's knees. 'I've not been willfully withholding information from my family.' He paused to let Penny mull over what he's just said. 'Come have lunch with me on Sunday. Meet the rest of my crazed family,' Percy beseeched softly. 'And hopefully, you won't run in the opposite direction, screaming.'

Penny searched Percy's face intently, but it was free from guile. 'All right.'

Harry sat up suddenly, his hair sticking up wildly. He snatched the softly ticking alarm clock from the night table and peered short-sightedly at it. He exhaled in relief as he read the time. It was just after seven o' clock in the morning. Clear morning light peeked through the drawn curtains over the window of Ron's bedroom.

Moving Day.

Anything that Harry was taking to the new flat and wasn't already there was crammed into Bill's old bedroom. Boxes of dishes, glassware, flatware, tea towels, dishcloths, pots, pans... Enough for Harry's kitchen to be considered fully functional. Molly had been determined to see that at least one of her children was able to feed himself properly. She had been the one that pored over the catalogues, marking pages for him. In the end, Harry had just told her to get what she felt he would need. He would have to pack his clothes and books before Dean, Seamus, Neville, Luna, and Hermione arrived. Just last night, Harry had realized just how much clothing he'd come to own in the past year. He credited Molly with that as well. The cupboard that held his clothes overflowed with trousers, jeans, shirts, t-shirts of various styles, jumpers, socks. A few extra pairs of shoes, including trainers. Even a couple of jackets. And not a set of wizard's robes in sight. Gradually, she'd replenished not only his wardrobe, but Ron's and George's as well. Molly had an excellent eye for fit and quality and for the first time in his life, all of Harry's clothes fit, and not just his school uniform. He assumed Ginny would be due for a complete wardrobe overhaul when she finished school. Molly might be the first to admit she'd gone a bit overboard with their clothes, but Harry almost couldn't blame her. It was the first time any of them had the means to buy something new, solely for themselves, without waiting for an older sibling to outgrow it.

Harry stared at the shadows on the ceiling, the thought that at this time the next morning, he would awaken in his new bed, in his own bedroom, tugging playfully at his consciousness. Giving up the idea of going back to sleep as a bad job, Harry threw the bedding back, and rolled out of bed. He padded absently down the stairs to the bathroom, managing a hasty wash, cursing to himself when he realized he hadn't brought a set of clean clothes into the bathroom with him. Heaving a sigh, he wrapped the towel around his hips and poked his head out of the bathroom. The landing was deserted, so he ran down the stairs, running headlong into Ginny, on her way up to the bathroom.

They swayed on the stairs, clutching at each other's arms to keep the other one from falling. The towel, not secured very well to begin with, slithered to the floor, landing in a limp heap on their bare feet. Ginny's face erupted into a painful blush, and she resolutely kept her eyes fixed on a drop of water sparkling on Harry's bare shoulder. The droplet of water inched lower and as much as Ginny tried to not follow its journey downward, her eyes flicked down, then hastily back to Harry's throbbing pulse, visible in the hollow of his throat. 'I'll just...' Harry choked, crouching and blindly patting for the towel. Grabbing it with one hand, he swathed his hips in it once more, this time, clutching it securely with one hand. 'See you at breakfast,' he mumbled, darting around her, and all but running down the rest of the stairs to Bill's old bedroom.

Ginny had turned to watch him, a tiny line appearing, then vanishing between her brows. Part of her had wanted to follow him, and pull the towel away from his grasping hands. The other part wanted to scamper into the bathroom, and close the door, and try to forget the entire thing. So she settled for staying where she was, wishing she could trade places with that drop of water.

Harry heard Ginny return quietly to her bedroom. His hand convulsed around the edge of a partially-packed box. Of all the times he'd envisioned Ginny seeing him naked, none of them had ever taken place on the staircase of the Burrow. The Weasleys thought nothing of eating breakfast in their pajamas, and more often than not the belt of Ginny's dressing gown stubbornly refused to stay tied, even if she knotted it, leaving her nightdress exposed. Lounging in a state of dishabille was not unusual in the Burrow. Running about in naught but a towel, however, was not.

Harry rubbed his hands over his face. At least tomorrow morning, he wouldn't have to worry if his towel stayed in place or not.

He continued to layer books into the boxes he'd charmed. Every textbook he'd ever used in school. All the books, professional journals and magazines he'd bought since he started working in the Auror department. He lifted the box experimentally. His ability to charm items like boxes and bags wasn't nearly as good as Hermione's, but it had gotten better the last several months. Seeing that the bottom of the box would hold, and it wasn't too difficult to carry, Harry tapped the top flaps of the box with his wand, and the edges sealed. He began the process of wedging his clothing into one large duffle bag, not caring if it became crumpled in the process.

'Mum's got breakfast ready,' Ron said behind him, voice still a little hoarse with sleep. He gazed around the bedroom in wonder. 'How long have you been awake?'

'What time is it?'

'Eight-thirty.'

'Over an hour...' Harry stuffed his shoes into his school bag. 'Neville, Seamus, and Dean said they'd be here at ten. Ginny said Luna'd probably come over at nine and have breakfast with us first.'

'After seeing what her father called cooking, I'm not surprised,' Ron told him. 'Hermione's just arrived if you want some help getting all this packed up.'

'I'm almost done,' Harry replied. For some reason, he couldn't quite identify, he wanted to do this himself. He fastened the flap and set the bag on the floor next to the box of books. 'George...?'

Ron shook his head. 'I asked him on Sunday, what he planned to do with the shop today, since I was going to help you move, but he just shook his head and said, he hadn't planned to open it today anyway.' He shrugged as if his shirt were too snug across the shoulders. 'I said I didn't figure he would have wanted to.'

'Good morning, Harry,' Hermione chirped, clattering up the stairs. She brushed a light kiss over his cheek. 'All packed, I see.'

'Purely so I didn't have to listen to you lecture me about getting things done ahead of time,' Harry retorted. He glanced up at the ceiling. 'I know George said it was all right, but I can't help but feel guilty about doing this today,' he murmured, gesturing to the pile of boxes. 'It didn't dawn on me at first that it was their birthday until after I'd signed everything.'

'George didn't...' Ron began. He ran a hand through his hair. 'Christmas is going to look like child's play compared to today. And George doesn't want anyone to fuss. Anything we can do just reminds him...' He looked through the window, jaw working.

The three of them stood silently. Harry supposed it was like losing an arm or a leg, or some other vital part of your body that you'd had your entire life, then it was suddenly removed without warning. He'd once overhead Mad-Eye at an Order meeting in Grimmauld Place that his missing foot still itched to the point of pain, and it nearly drove him mad with the desire to scratch it, and the knowledge that he could not.

Ron cleared his throat. 'Breakfast?'

'Yeah.' Harry went down the stairs, unable to quell the rising tide of excitement. One journey ends and another begins, he told himself. It's the way of life, I suppose...

Ginny glanced up from her place at the table. She was in the process of buttering her toast when Harry came through the door. Ginny's arm jerked and her elbow bumped against the edge of the butter dish, but Harry pulled his wand from his pocket and flicked it back. The butter dish slid across the table to a less dangerous location. Ginny murmured something indistinct, and buried her nose in her tea cup. Ron leaned down, his mouth near Hermione's ear. 'What's that all about? Gin hasn't knocked the butter off the table since...'

'Don't. Ask,' Hermione warned.

'Here you are, dears,' Molly said, just a bit too cheerfully. She began to dish eggs and sausages onto their plates, heedless of the muffled noises of protest at the amount of food piled on them. Dark circles ringed her eyes and she seemed distracted by something in the back garden. She moved the food around her own plate, and managed a bite or two of toast. Mostly, Molly gazed out of one of the kitchen windows, cradling a cup between her hands, the tea gone stone cold

Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione quickly ate their breakfasts, glancing guiltily at each other. They knew they ought to have perhaps lingered a little to wait for Luna, but the expression on Molly's face made them slightly uneasy. Not once in the days before, nor after, Fred's funeral, had Molly exhibited the level of despondence she did now. Ron's head jerked toward the door and the four of them gathered their plates and cutlery, setting them in the sink before they retreated to the sitting room. Ginny paused next to Molly, however, and slid an arm around her mother's slightly hunched shoulders. She leaned her head against Molly's, their fiery locks blazing in the sunlight. Molly's head turned slightly to take in her daughter's worried face. She smiled a little and cupped a hand over Ginny's cheek. 'It will pass,' Molly told her quietly, kissing Ginny's forehead. 'Go on with you.'

Ginny looked at her doubtfully. 'I can stay...' she began tentatively, but Molly waved her off.

'I'll be all right. Go help Harry get himself sorted and settled.'

Ginny bit her lip, but nodded, her arm tightening around Molly in a brief embrace before she joined Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

'Are you going to take the things from your parents' house?' Hermione asked Harry.

Harry paled slightly. 'Erm... I hadn't really thought about it,' he replied lamely. He had, in fact, considered taking the books, letters, and photographs he'd found, but when he'd gone into the attic to bring them down to Bill's old room, he couldn't make himself pick up so much as one of the boxes. He hadn't been able shake the feeling that he was plundering their graves, so he left them to collect dust in the Burrow's attic amongst the Weasleys' things.

'Why don't we bring Harry's things down here so we won't have to waste time when the others arrive,' Ginny suggested, changing the subject. 'And how are we dragging all of it to London, hmm? Luna and I haven't passed the Apparition test yet. I'm not sure about Seamus, because we didn't really learn how last year, and he hadn't taken the test before school started. Neville has his license, I think, and so does Dean,' she said practically. 'You won't want to Side-Along Luna, Seamus, and me all day, will you?'

'The Floo's been connected,' Harry said quickly. 'We'll use that.'

'Brilliant,' Ron muttered, lunging up the stairs. 'What are we waiting for?'

Dean set the last box down on the floor with a slight grunt. 'I didn't know you had this much rubbish,' he told Harry.

'I didn't until two weeks ago,' Harry sighed. He gazed around the room in increasing dismay at the carrier bags, boxes, and general detritus that suddenly appears when one moves into a new home. 'Godric, where do we start?' he asked in bewilderment.

'I'll take the kitchen,' Ron volunteered.

'Why? Because you learned how to cook a little, you're suddenly an expert in arranging and organizing kitchens?' Ginny scoffed.

'More than you are,' Ron retorted. His ears remained their usual color. Mere banter between siblings. He waved his wand at a haphazard stack of boxes, and they rose into the air. He directed them into the kitchen, walking behind the floating boxes.

'I've got a bit of a housewarming present for you,' Neville said to Harry, lifting a grubby knapsack.

Harry eyed the knapsack dubiously, hoping it wasn't some bizarre plant species. 'Thanks...'

Neville caught the slight grimace on Harry's face and chuckled. 'It's just a miniature greenhouse for herbs and some cuttings of the more common medicinal herbs. Thought it might be easier if you had them around, then you could brew the potions yourself.' He began to rummage through the recesses of the knapsack. 'Dittany, of course... Looks like a Muggle herb... Some Muggle herbs... Lavender, goldenseal, comfrey...' he murmured absently. 'Just need to use dragon dung fertilizer to increase their potency, but you know that...' He gestured toward the kitchen. 'Is that window the only access to the balcony?'

Harry turned and nodded. The large window resembled a small set of French doors. A tall person would have to stoop to get through them. 'Yeah...'

'Look at it this way,' Neville said over his shoulder, making his way into the kitchen. 'Most Aurors can't stand being in the hospital. At least that's what I'm told at work. Don't like to come in for anything less than loss of life or limb. Prefer to take care of the small injuries themselves.'

'Do ye want t' leave the sofa over there, then?' Seamus asked. 'Or move it under the window?'

Before Harry could reply, he heard a shriek of giggles coming from the bathroom, where Hermione, Ginny, and Luna had gone to, in Hermione's words, make sure it was cleaned properly at least once, before they arranged his things in it. I don't want to know, Harry sighed to himself, and began to help Seamus and Dean put the sitting room into some sort of order.

In the bathroom, Ginny clapped a hand over her mouth, and jabbed her wand at the door. It closed with a soft click. 'It was... I don't know...' Her cheeks flushed with the memory of Harry's naked body, roped with wiry muscle, dark hair dusting over his chest and swirling around his navel before descending in a plunging line down his abdomen. 'He caught me sneaking a peek,' she admitted, pressing her palms to her burning face.

'Did you like what you saw?' Hermione teased. Ginny's face grew even redder. 'I'll take that as a yes...' She watched Luna arrange, then rearrange Harry's shaving things on a small shelf over the sink. 'What on earth are you doing?'

'Making sure everything's organized,' Luna said vaguely. Hermione's eyebrow rose, because Luna had placed the razor next to a tube of toothpaste and the brush for the shaving soap was balanced on the edge of the shelf, clear on the other side from the small cup containing a cake of woody-scented shaving soap. She shook it off as one of Luna's crackpot ideas and turned back to Ginny.

'Haven't you ever wanted to see...?' Hermione asked.

Ginny carefully placed a stack of neatly folded towels on a shelf. 'Yes.' She reached for a corresponding stack of face cloths. 'The three of you lived in close quarters last year...' she began.

Hermione bit her lip. 'Never saw Harry,' she assured Ginny. 'Saw Ron a few times,' she admitted impishly.

Ginny's nose wrinkled. 'Ew. That's my prat of a brother you're talking about.'

'You asked,' Hermione reminded her primly, before dissolving into giggles.

Luna snorted, an uncharacteristically harsh sound coming from someone prone to misty pronouncements. 'It's just a body,' she said. 'Everybody has one. Half the population has what Harry has and the other half has what you do. It's not a mystery.'

Ginny stared at Luna, open-mouthed. 'If you say one word about Harry and his "wand"...' she spluttered.

'It won't be any worse than that smut you insist on reading in your spare time,' Hermione laughed. 'Honestly, Ginny...'

'I'll have you know those books are quite educational,' Ginny argued loftily. 'And it's much better than going into something like that completely ignorant.'

Luna leaned against the counter, a bottle of shampoo clutched in her hand. 'Are you...?' Her eyes were wide and round. 'Before we go back to school...?'

Ginny shrugged and fiddled with the edge of the shower curtain, dropping to the edge of the tub. 'I don't know,' she finally said, twisting her fingers together. 'Maybe.'

'Remember what the Muggles say,' Luna interjected. 'No glove, no love.' Her feathery brows drew together in a frown. 'What do they mean by that? Do they wear gloves...? That's awfully strange for an activity that relies on tactile sensation...' Hermione quickly smoothed her face into a neutral expression, and explained the meaning of phrase. Luna's face cleared. 'Oh, well, that makes sense...'

Hermione joined Luna in leaning against the counter, studying Ginny's tense face. 'You don't have to do anything you don't want to do,' she said briskly. 'Even if he wants to and you don't. But I know Harry wouldn't try to force you into doing something you're not willing to do.'

'I know that,' Ginny said dryly. 'And right now, that's the only thing I'm sure I know...'

'Harry, why do ye want to live with Muggles?' Seamus asked, methodically shelving Harry's old schoolbooks by subject, then year.

'It's quieter. No reporters camping out on my doorstep.' The war had been over for almost a year, and random reporters managed to find their way to Devon and the Burrow, waiting for Harry to reveal everything about his experiences last year. Ever since Rita Skeeter had published that vile book about him, they had flocked back to the lane outside the boundaries of the property. 'And it's not totally with Muggles,' he added defensively. 'The Leaky Cauldron's just a few blocks away.'

'Right,' said Seamus. 'I still think ye're nutters...'

Harry left Seamus to deal with the books and went into his bedroom and began to unpack his clothing. Truth be told, he felt living around Muggles like this made him less of a target. Muggles didn't know, or care, who Harry Potter was. For all they knew he was a real as Martin Miggs the Mad Muggle. But he couldn't shake the feeling every time he went into the wizarding world, there was someone watching him, even if nobody was there.

Methodically arranging his t-shirts in the wardrobe, Harry chanted to himself, They're gone, Harry. Riddle, the Lestranges, Dolohov, even Greyback. They're gone.

'Harry?' Ron stood in the doorway, Hermione behind him. 'Did you say something?'

Startled, Harry's head jerked up. 'I didn't say anything.' He saw Hermione and Ron exchange a look, before they went back into the other room. Harry stared after them for a moment. Had he been talking out loud? And if he had, what exactly had they heard?

He didn't have much time to contemplate the issue before someone rapped smartly on the door of the flat. Ron frowned, and quickly counted everyone, before squinting at the door. 'Who...?' he muttered.

Harry straightened his shoulders and strode to the door, ready to hex the expected reporter on the other side when he opened it. He was greeted by a plate piled with ginger biscuits under his nose, held by a pair of masculine hands with exquisitely manicured nails. Harry raised his eyes to the owner of the hands and found himself goggling at the man holding the plate, before he remembered the day he'd come to let the flat and had seen the man walk past the building. 'Erm, hello,' Harry stammered.

The man's face split into a wide smile. 'Hello. I'm Bob. I live on the first floor.' He held the biscuits toward Harry. 'These are for you. My partner Ted baked them and told me in no uncertain terms I was to bring them up today.'

'Th-thanks,' Harry rasped. 'Erm... I'm Harry...' Harry said awkwardly, and stepped back a little. 'These are my friends... Seamus, Dean, Luna, Neville, Hermione, Ron, and my girlfriend Ginny...'

'How nice to meet you all,' Bob said genially, his eyes narrowed slightly as his gaze passed over Seamus, who had pressed his back tightly against the wall. Bob looked at Harry. 'Could I have a quick word in private?' he asked.

'Sure...' Harry handed the plate of biscuits to Neville, who yelped, scrubbing his hands over the sides of his jeans, trying to remove some of the smudges of potting soil from them, and followed Bob out to the landing. 'I'm sorry... Were we too loud?'

'It's about your friend... The one with the sandy hair?'

'Seamus?'

'He needs professional help, lad,' Bob said bluntly.

'What makes you say that?' Harry asked, hoping for a casual tone.

'Child, please,' Bob said. 'I've been around the block more than a few times. I've seen that same reaction when strangers come into a room on more than one person – male and female. I can give you the name of someone –'

'I don't know,' Harry interrupted. 'I mean, he might want to see someone closer to his home... He doesn't live in London, you see,' he added hastily, lest he come off as rude.

Bob nodded. 'Very well. But if you change your mind... Ted and I live in flat B2. If we're not home, just leave a note and I'll get the information to you.' He turned to walk down the stairs, but stopped, giving Harry a hard look. 'It's best if he gets help sooner rather than later, mind.'

'Yeah...' Harry slid his hands into his pockets. 'I'll see what I can do...' His head bobbed shyly. 'It was nice to meet you...' Bob continued down the stairs and Harry rubbed a hand over his eyes.

'Harry?' Dean's voice broke into Harry's reverie. 'Ron's about to gnaw his own arm off. Claims he's faint from hunger, and Hermione won't let him have another biscuit,' he told Harry, amusement coloring his voice. 'I don't know Soho that well, but I do know of a few places to get some decent takeaway...'

Harry inhaled deeply. It was the perfect opportunity to talk to Dean about what he wanted to do in Teddy's bedroom. And to mention his conversation with Bob. 'Let's just tell the others, eh?' He ran a hand through his hair, and sidled past Dean into the flat.

Dean motioned to their left and struck out down the pavement. 'There's a really good Chinese takeaway place just down there,' he said. 'Not horribly expensive, but then again, you're feeding Ron...'

Harry laughed and followed Dean's lead. 'True.' He walked quietly, dodging people for a moment, then spoke quietly. 'What has Seamus told you about last year?' he asked.

'Enough,' Dean said succinctly. 'Why? What do you know?'

Harry kept his eyes straight ahead. 'I saw him in January before I got hurt.' He rubbed his jaw where Seamus had punched him. 'I approached him from the back, and he punched me. He came by the Ministry in March and Ron, Nev, Shay, and I went for a drink when I got off work. He acted much like he was when Bob was at the flat earlier.'

Dean's eyes closed briefly, and his lips pressed together tightly. 'He's not getting better...'

'Bob said he knows someone who might help Shay...' Harry ventured. 'And maybe you can talk to him...?'

'I can't promise anything, mate,' Dean said. 'But I'll try.' He glanced at Harry. 'So what is it you want me to do to the baby's room? '

Harry grinned. 'Can you make your drawings move?'

'Yeah.'

'Brilliant. Make the walls yellow... Not bright yellow, like Hufflepuff colors, but like butter... And I'll need you to draw a wolf, a large black dog, and a stag.'

'Why those?' Dean asked curiously.

Harry's grin grew wider. 'I'll tell you later. It's quite a story.'

Dean opened his bag and pulled out a supply of pencils and pastels. 'So... What's the story behind this?' he prodded.

Harry stuck a fork into a white cardboard box and speared a prawn, mouth watering at the scent of garlic wafting on the steam rising from inside the box. He chewed the prawn and swallowed, peering into the box. 'Well, you know my dad, Sirius, and Pet... another friend of theirs,' he amended, 'were determined to help Remus with his furry little problem. So the three of them spent three years studying and finally by their fifth year, were able to transform into animals – they became Animagi, just like McGonagall.' He replaced the carton with steamed prawns and picked up the one with shredded duck. 'Sirius was large black dog, their friend was a rat – which turned out to be rather prescient – and my dad was a stag.'

'Like your Patronus,' Luna said, fascinated.

'Yeah.' Harry poked his fork into a carton of fried rice. 'Anyway, every month, during the full moon, Dad, Sirius, and their friend would sneak out of the castle and join Remus in the Shrieking Shack.' He ate the rice balanced on the end of his fork. 'And Dad, Remus, and Sirius were best mates, so I thought it would be neat if they were here...'

Dean used a pencil to quickly sketch a shaggy outline of a wolf. He could set the pastels to color in the drawings later. He glanced at Harry, animatedly regaling their friends with tales of his father's adventures, then turned his full attention to the mural. It seemed to be the least he could do for both Harry and Teddy – to give them their fathers in some small measure.

Harry slumped against the arched entrance to the kitchen, and surveyed the sitting room. While he and Dean had gone to fetch the food, Luna had taken it upon herself to rearrange the furniture. The sofa was slanted at an odd angle away from the window, and the armchair was now next to the fireplace. The bookcase was wedged next to the kitchen entrance. 'Explain why...' he breathed in bewilderment.

'If you put the bookcase away from exterior walls, it keeps the knowledge from disappearing. The sofa angled like that balances your energies outside and inside the home, and the armchair anchors the soul of home,' Luna explained airily.

Harry found himself rubbing his hand over his face. It had become a frequent gesture as the day wore on. 'Fine,' he muttered, aware of how ungracious he sounded. 'Thanks, Luna...'

'My pleasure, Harry!' Luna chirped. She hugged him and ducked into the fireplace, vanishing in the roar of green flames.

Harry gave Neville one of those particularly male hugs that involved much back-pounding. 'Thanks for the greenhouse, Nev,' he said sincerely.

'I know how you feel about hospitals,' Neville laughed, before he, too, stepped into the fireplace.

Seamus held out a hand and Harry shook it warmly. 'Thank you, Seamus.'

Seamus nodded once, a tense smile flashing across his face, before he bolted for the fireplace.

Dean clapped Harry on the back. 'The mural looks...' Harry shook his head. 'It's marvelous. It really is.'

'No worries, mate.' Dean headed for the front door.

'You're not using the Floo?' Ron blurted.

'My mum and dad just live over in West Ham,' Dean reminded Ron. 'I can take the Tube.' He looked over his shoulder at Harry. 'Owl me that bloke's name, yeah?'

'First thing next week,' Harry promised. Dean slipped out of the door, and his footsteps faded quickly on the stairs. Only Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were left and Harry exhaled deeply, sighing in relief. He turned to them, grouped on the askew sofa. 'Who left Luna alone in here?' he demanded wearily.

Ron looked at Hermione, who glared back at him. 'It wasn't me!' Hermione exclaimed. 'I was with Ginny unpacking Teddy's things.' Her brows drew together. 'You were the one dawdling with the kitchen.'

Harry held up a hand and he dropped into the armchair. 'You know what? Forget it. I can move it all back.' He gazed around the room. 'Later.'

'Right then.' Ron heaved himself to his feet, and held out his hands to Hermione. She took them, and he pulled her off the sofa. 'I guess we'll head home, too...' He gestured to the door. 'Can we Apparate from the landing?'

'Yeah.'

Ron looked over his shoulder at Ginny, still curled on one end of the sofa. 'Aren't you coming?'

'There are a few more things to do still,' Ginny replied calmly, sliding off the sofa, and picking up a bundle next to her.

'Like what?' Ron grumbled.

'Ron. Go home,' Ginny ordered.

'What is that?' Ron asked.

'Sheets for Harry's bed,' Ginny huffed. 'Nobody got round to making it. I daresay he'd prefer to sleep in his bed tonight than on the sofa.'

Ron's eyes widened, and he planted his feet in the middle of the floor. 'We'll wait.'

'What?' Hermione spluttered. 'Why?'

Ron's eyes bulged. 'I'm not leaving Ginny alone here with Harry!' he hissed.

'Oh, honestly, Ronald,' Hermione breathed, visibly annoyed. 'It's Harry.'

'Did you see the size of that thing?' he said through clenched teeth, pointing stiffly in the direction of Harry's bedroom.

'I have. It's quite nice.' Hermione tugged Ron to the door. 'Leave them be, Ron. They're both of age, and you have absolutely no ground to stand on, you know...'

'But...' Ron protested, dragging his feet.

'We'll see you later, Harry,' Hermione said over her shoulder, as she all but pulled Ron out of the flat, using her wand to close the door behind them. Harry and Ginny could hear the soft pop as she Disapparated, presumably Side-Alonging a recalcitrant Ron.

Ginny shook her head, giving Harry a long-suffering look. 'You'd think I was some sheltered maiden in distress,' she scoffed. She trudged into Harry's bedroom. 'Let's get this bed made, eh? Then we can relax for a bit.' Harry followed her. They stood on opposite sides of the wide bed, Ginny holding the one side of the sheet. She unfurled it gracefully over the bed, and together, they pulled, tucked, and smoothed the sheet into place.

Harry ran a hand over the sheet. 'Tighter,' he murmured automatically.

'What?'

'Huh?' Harry stared at Ginny.

'What do you mean, "tighter"?'

Harry shook himself. He habitually made his bed with the exacting precision he'd learned from his aunt. But it dawned on him he no longer had to adhere to such strict procedures. 'It's fine,' he told Ginny. 'Just... used to...' He looked up. 'Quilt?' Ginny draped the quilt over the bed, and they spread it neatly over the bed, once again, working in tandem. Harry felt some of the tension from the day ebb from his shoulders.

The bed made, Harry toed off his trainers and collapsed across the bed with a soft groan. He was dimly aware of Ginny doing the same. He opened his eyes and brushed a few strands of hair away from her face. 'Thank you,' he said fervently, drawing closer and kissing her. He'd meant it to be a quick peck, but it quickly veered into something more passionate.

Harry shifted until Ginny was straddling him, his hand sliding under the hem of her shirt, skimming over the skin of her back. He traced the edge of her bra, dying to unhook the bloody garment and fling both it and her shirt to the floor. He contented himself with brushing his fingertips in swirling patterns over her skin. Ginny drew back a little, a mysterious smile playing over her lips. She toyed with the buttons of his shirt, undoing the top two, her hand slipping underneath the soft cotton, caressing the warm skin over his collarbone. Harry's other hand floated up and lit on the button of Ginny's jeans. Ginny's breath caught, but she made no move to stop him, so Harry tried to unfasten them.

Seemingly out of nowhere, Ginny's free hand suddenly slapped Harry's hand away. She stared at him, wide-eyed, confused. Didn't she want this? Ginny shook her head, and replaced Harry's hand at the waistband of her jeans, leaning down to kiss him. Harry fumbled a little, but managed to slide the button through the buttonhole. Smack! Ginny slapped his hand away once more. She frowned, sitting up. This was Harry. He wasn't just the dream she'd had as a little girl anymore. He was the object of several erotic fantasies, the reason she kept a steady supply of chocolate in the drawer of her night table at school. He was the one responsible for the throbbing heat deep in her belly. She determinedly picked up his hands, and placed them over the zipper of her jeans. Harry looked up at her questioningly, but Ginny nodded encouragingly. Harry took a deep breath and fumbled for the zipper tab and slowly pulled it down a little. Ginny instinctively slapped his hand away. She ran a shaking hand through her hair and met Harry's bemused eyes. 'I'm not ready,' she blurted, surprise evident on her face.

'What?' Harry gasped.

'What?' Ginny stared at him, her mouth falling open. She slid off Harry and sat next to him, her knees drawn up to her chest, arms wrapped around them. 'I'm not ready,' she said slowly. It was as much a revelation to her as it was to him. 'I think I'd like to wait a little longer.'

Harry sat up and reached for one of Ginny's hands. He felt strangely relieved that she wanted to wait. If they were going to be honest with each other, he would have to admit the same. The saying absence making the heart grow fonder had a kernel of truth to it. Makes other parts grow fonder as well, Harry thought ruefully, trying to unobtrusively adjust his jeans. And who was to say their mutual arousal wasn't due to the extended separation from their situation, with Ginny still in school? He wondered if it would feel the same if they saw each other more frequently. 'So do I,' he told her at length.

Ginny looked at him askance. 'You do?'

Harry nodded. 'Yeah. I mean, we haven't been around each other much for the past year, and I...' he trailed off, slightly embarrassed.

'You want it to be about more than shagging like crazed weasels,' Ginny finished dryly.

'I, erm... Yeah.' Harry slid an arm around Ginny's waist and she rested her head against his shoulder. 'We don't have to do what everybody else does.'

'If by "everybody else" you mean Ron and Hermione, no... No, we don't.' Ginny heaved a sigh. 'So we'll wait.'

Harry pressed a kiss to Ginny's temple. 'I guess we'll know when it's the right time,' he murmured.

Ginny turned her head and captured Harry's mouth in a soft kiss. 'I love you, Harry.'

'And I love you, Ginevra.' Harry's forehead lowered to Ginny's. 'I ought to get you home,' he said regretfully. He wanted her to stay, to sleep twined around him, like she had the other night.

'I can Floo myself home,' Ginny informed him. 'But I don't have to be home straightaway, do I?'

'No.' Harry fell back into the pillows, taking Ginny with him. 'We can stay here for a while.' His nose brushed over Ginny's. 'Maybe snog a little?' he added hopefully.

'Sounds lovely,' Ginny murmured against his mouth.