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SIYE Time:7:49 on 29th March 2024
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Contagion
By melindaleo

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Category: Post-Hogwarts
Characters:None
Genres: Drama
Warnings: Mild Language, Mild Sexual Situations
Story is Complete
Rating: PG-13
Reviews: 207
Summary: Muggle and magical illnesses are separate. Until they’re not. Harry has always had a discernable enemy. This time, he’s fighting an invisible and indiscriminate threat. Part of the Cuts universe.
Hitcount: Story Total: 112536; Chapter Total: 5031
Awards: View Trophy Room




Author's Notes:
Thanks to DuarteN from the GinnyLoversDiscord for remembering which name I’d used for Harry’s owl. How embarrassing when you forget your own story details!!

Thanks to Sherylyn, Arnel and Sue for their beta expertise and for always fitting me into their busy schedules. I really appreciate all the assistance.

Please don’t forget to share your thoughts!!




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Chapter Seven
Fitting



Ginny took a deep, steadying breath before entering Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions. She was expected for a fitting of the dress robes for Percy’s wedding. She wasn’t surprised that he and Audrey had chosen to go the traditional route of wearing robes, but she’d be happier with a dress. Besides that, the robes were pink which was driving her spare. The other two attendants — Audrey’s sister and her cousin — were both blondes who would look perfectly lovely in pink. Ginny, on the other hand, looked like a hot mess with her vibrant hair clashing horribly.

When Ginny was young, her mum used to make her wear pink whenever she could afford anything new. She knew it was because her mum was so happy to finally have her girl, but Ginny had actually preferred the hand-me-downs of her various brothers than the pink, which she found garish and stained much too easily.

Professor Umbridge’s fondness for it had been the last straw. Yet, here she was, getting the final fitting of her new pink dress robes. Life was really bitchy sometimes.

Steeling herself, Ginny pushed the door open, spotting her mum, Hermione and Fleur immediately.

“Oh, there you are, Ginny, dear,” Molly said, wrapping her in a tight hug and dragging her inside. “I was beginning to worry you’d miss it entirely. We all thought we’d come and pick out our robes so we’d all have our colors.”

Ginny glanced quickly at Hermione and Fleur, who were both trying to cover their grins. Ginny knew perfectly well that her mum would’ve roped them both into the fitting so she wouldn’t have to spend any time alone with Mrs. Abbott.

“Brilliant idea, Mum,” she said, sticking her tongue out at Hermione and Fleur over her mother’s shoulder. “Have you had your fitting yet?”

“Yes, dear, mine are all set. The Abbotts are all back there being fitted now,” Molly said, absently adjusting Ginny’s hair around her shoulders. “Fleur found a lovely pale green one.”

“Oui, eet is tres bonne,” Fleur said, smiling her radiant smile.

“How about you, Hermione?” Ginny asked. She thought her friend looked rather agitated and harassed. She wasn’t certain if it was due to spending the morning going through the fittings, or if it was being away from the Ministry. She, Ron and Harry had all been putting in long hours.

“Oh… not today. I think I’m going to wear a dress, actually,” Hermione said, glancing nervously at Molly, whose lips pinched slightly.

“I wish I could wear a dress, too,” Ginny said.

“Well, it’s nice to see the old traditions upheld, too,” Molly said, narrowing her eyes at Ginny. She then turned to Hermione, a smile crossing her face, and said, “I’m certain you’ll look lovely in whatever you decide to wear, dear.”

Ginny rolled her eyes. Her mother always let Hermione and Harry off the hook.

Before anyone could respond, a harassed-looking Madam Malkin poked her head out from behind the curtain. “Good, you’re here. I want to see all three girls lined up together. Come in, and we’ll get you into your robes,” she said bossily, waving Ginny inside.

Ginny followed her into the dressing area where Audrey was standing next to her mum looking at the other two attendants, who were standing on stools in their luridly bright pink robes.

“Hi, Ginny!” Hannah Abbott said, beaming as Ginny entered the room.

Hannah, who was Audrey’s cousin, was in Ron’s year at Hogwarts and a fellow member of Dumbledore’s Army. She currently worked at the Leaky Cauldron, and always arranged a private table for Harry so he wouldn’t be harassed too badly by unruly crowds. Ginny appreciated her very much for that. She knew Neville had fancied her as far back as Hogwarts, but as far as she knew, they’d never become exclusive.

“Hi, Hannah, good to see you. Hello, everyone,” Ginny said, giving the room at large a wave.

Madam Malkin urged her behind a curtain to change. Ginny allowed her assistance while observing the others in the room from behind her lowered lashes.

Hannah and Claire, Audrey’s sister and the third bridesmaid, were both looking in the mirror at their robes, which were pinned in various spots. The shoulder on Claire’s kept slipping, and she kept pushing it back up.

“Do stop fidgeting, Claire. It’s unbecoming,” Mrs. Abbott said imperiously. She was a stern, middle-aged witch with dull brown hair that she wore pulled back into a tight bun. Small ringlets outlined her angular face so perfectly, Ginny suspected they’d been placed rather than come undone from her bun naturally.

Audrey had her mother’s coloring, whilst Claire was blonde, like Hannah. Ginny supposed that came from the Abbott side of the family. She knew Audrey’s brother, who had been in Ginny’s year at Hogwarts, was blond, as well. He’d also been friendly with Zacharias Smith, so Ginny had never paid him much attention.

Once Ginny had put on her robes, Madam Malkin ushered her out to the one remaining stool and urged her to step onto it. Ginny reluctantly raised her head to look into the mirror that made up the back wall, cringing away from the clash of colors. She looked like a giant, bloodshot eyeball.

“Oh, la la! Ginny, zat color is ‘orrible with your ‘air,” Fleur’s voice rang across the room. Ginny hadn’t even realized that she, Hermione and Molly had all come into the back to watch the fitting.

“I’m aware,” Ginny said, sighing. Leave it to Fleur to point out the obvious.

“Oh, no… I think you look very nice,” Audrey said, lying, but clearly upset.

“Don’t worry about it, Audrey. Everyone is going to be looking at you, anyway,” Ginny said, trying to smile. If it had been any of her other brothers, Ginny knew she’d tell them exactly what she thought of the dress choice. Her relationship with Percy still seemed so tender, even three years after the war. Although they’d all tried to move past old wounds, there was still just a fragility to any disagreements.

She knew Percy had changed, they all had. He laughed more easily and always showed up to assist their parents with anything they needed. Ginny knew he must’ve missed them terribly when they were estranged.

When she was very young, she’d been closest to Ron, and they’d been playmates. As she grew older, she’d idolized Bill. He paid attention to her, and she thought he was cool. Once she was at school, she’d been closest to Fred and George. They’d been the ones who made the most effort to include her after her disastrous first year. They never tip-toed around her and even seemed to respect her own abilities. After the war, it was Charlie she’d grown the closest to while they both did their best to take care of their grieving mum and George. It had never been Percy, and she felt bad about that, so she was trying her utmost to bond with him and his new fiancé.

She couldn’t say she was overly fond of Audrey, but she didn’t have that instant dislike she’d had of Fleur, either. Of course, she was no longer fourteen and jealous that she was losing a brother, so that could’ve explained it, but she just hadn’t found a connection with Audrey. Perhaps it would grow, as it had done with Fleur. Admittedly, Audrey wasn’t nearly as condescending as Fleur had been, but there wasn’t a lot of warmth to her, either. She was very reserved, and Ginny thought the Weasley family tended to overwhelm her.

In a way, she was a lot like Harry, but whereas Harry did get overwhelmed, too, he still appreciated the chaos and seemed to love everything about the insanity of her family. Audrey tended to shy away from it, and sometimes it made Ginny feel as if she was looking down her nose at them all.

Although Hermione wasn’t quite part of the family officially, Ginny knew it was only a matter of time, and though she could also be reserved, she never acted aloof. Like Harry, she genuinely seemed to like them all. Hermione was definitely her favorite sister-in-law… well, almost sister-in-law.

Ginny’s attention was dragged back to the present when Mrs. Abbott, who’d been staring at Ginny with consternation since Fleur’s comment said, “You could always wear your hair pulled back into a tight bun, or do a Color-Changing Charm. I suppose we could add some flowers around it.”

“Hide it, you mean?” Ginny asked coolly, feeling her temper rise. She was rather proud of herself for her restraint in not simply hexing the rude woman. She was trying for Percy’s sake, but if they wanted her in the damn wedding, she wasn’t going to let them hide who she was, either. “Is that something you’d like us all to do, Audrey?”

“Er… no… I mean, I don’t think you all have to have matching hairstyles,” Audrey said, glancing nervously at her mother.

“Of course not. It’s just a suggestion if you’re self-conscious about being ginger,” Mrs. Abbott said with syrupy politeness.

“And why should she be self-conscious about that? Some witches pay stylists a fortune to get their hair to look exactly the way hers does naturally,” Molly said, her face extremely red.

“Of course. It’s all a matter of… taste,” Mrs. Abbott said, her eyes locked on Molly.

“Well, I could always bow out of being a bridesmaid. It wouldn’t bother me at all,” Ginny said hopefully, knowing if she’d simply cast her hex, they’d probably kick her out. But she was being a good girl today, she thought sourly.

“Ginny! What a thing to say. Of course, you should be in the wedding. You’re Percy’s sister, after all,” Molly said.

“No, don’t be silly, child. Wizard custom says the wedding party should be made up of a blending of the families, and as you are Percy’s only sister, it’s fitting that you be there,” Mrs. Abbott said at the same time.

The two older women, who’d been glaring at each other a moment before, each adjusted her own robes, both taken aback by this apparent unprecedented agreement.

Ginny suspected Mrs. Abbott’s insistence that Ginny be part of the bridal party had far more to do with her desire to keep her own son as one of Percy’s groomsmen rather than to have Ginny in the party at all.

When it was her turn — and she suspected if her failed holiday had actually happened, she might be an engaged woman by now — she was having Hermione and Luna as her attendants, wizarding custom be damned.

“All right, then, pink it is, and we’ll all do our hair as we like, is that right, Audrey?” Ginny asked pointedly. She wished Audrey would give her own opinion for once, rather than looking to her mother for every little thing. It was her wedding, after all, and it was driving Ginny ‘round the twist.

“Y-yes,” Audrey said, swallowing visibly.

Before she could look for her mother’s approval, Ginny quickly said, “Excellent. I think I’ll do mine the way I had it for Bill and Fleur’s wedding. I liked all the loose curls for a change.”

“Oh, mais oui, you looked so lovely, Ginny,” Fleur said, winking. In that instant, she knew that she and Fleur were co-conspirators and more sister-like than they’d ever been before. “It suited you to perfection.”

“It did look beautiful. I remember Harry couldn’t keep his eyes off of you,” Hermione said, giving Ginny a small smile.

“Well, yes, that and the fact the dress was rather low-cut,” Molly said, shocking her daughter with the mischievous twinkle in her eye.

Both Fleur and Hermione grinned widely.

“All right, that’s settled then,” Audrey said nervously.

They could all tell Mrs. Abbott wasn’t pleased, but there wasn’t really a graceful way out of it at that point, and she’d realized it.

“Well, let me just get these last few pins in, and I’ll have the robes sent to you by owl,” Madam Malkin said, still working on Ginny’s robes. She’d already adjusted the shoulder strap on Claire’s. “That includes the ones you purchased, Mrs. Weasley.”

For a moment, Ginny felt confused until she realized Madam Malkin wasn’t talking to her mother, but to Fleur. That was weird.

“Merci,” Fleur said before turning to Molly. “Shall we go and pick up Victoire?”

“Yes, of course. You’ll be all right, Ginny? We left Victoire with Andromeda,” Molly said.

“I’ll be fine, Mum,” Ginny said. “As difficult as it might be to believe, I can find my way home all by myself.”

“Well, it would certainly be easier if you still lived at home. Then you could just come back with me,” Molly said, her eyes narrowing, “and I wouldn’t have to worry so much.”

Ginny did not want to get into this argument again, particularly not in front of all the Abbotts.

“Ginny, why don’t you walk back to the Ministry with me? I have something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about,” Hermione said, intervening quickly.

She smiled gratefully, thanking Hermione with her eyes. “That sounds perfect.”

Once her fitting was done and she’d changed back into her own clothing, she and Hermione walked up the street toward the Leaky Cauldron.

“Did you really have something you wanted to talk about, or were you just bailing me out with Mum?” Ginny asked, grinning.

“Just giving you an out,” Hermione said. “Have you talked to Harry today?”

“No, why? Is there something I should know?” Ginny asked, feeling apprehensive. “He’s not back in a safe house again, is he?”

“No, but Neville is,” Hermione said, glancing around to be certain they couldn’t be overheard.

“He is? What happened? Is he all right?” Ginny asked, alarmed.

“Apparently, he went to the safe house where that wizarding family who contracted the illness is being held. They thought the mother might have it, but she tested negative. Neville interviewed the daughter shortly before her test came back positive, so both he and Auror Proudfoot have been quarantined,” Hermione said.

Ginny swallowed, feeling rather alarmed. “So, what happens now? They watch him for a few days like Harry?”

“No. They know for certain he was in direct contact, so his quarantine will be longer. They have a few cases in England now, which isn’t surprising since Queensferry is close to the border, but they still haven’t nailed down an incubation period,” Hermione said.

“So, he’s stuck indefinitely?”

“Well, honestly, its better that than if he gets sick. This illness is odd. It has all the symptoms of Cerebrumous Spattergroit except the pustules most indicative of standard Spattergroit, and the fact it’s affecting Muggles. I’ve heard the term Muggleton Spattergroit several times now, but I keep insisting they come up with a different name. We’re going to have some of the Pureblood holdouts using this to blame the Muggles for it. It will somehow become the Muggles’ fault, and they’ll say they brought it to the magical community. I know they will,” Hermione said. In her agitation, she’d begun walking faster and faster as they spoke so that Ginny was nearly running to keep up with her.
“Hermione,” she finally said, gasping, “slow down, my legs aren’t quite as long.”

“Oh! Sorry, I’m just worried, and that fitting took longer than my lunch hour should’ve.”

“Did you eat?”

“No, but I don’t have time now.”

“Let’s stop at the Leaky Cauldron and you can take something back for Harry, too. I’ve noticed he’s been off food again,” Ginny said firmly.

Hermione smiled vaguely. “He always does when he’s worried about something. I remember I used to pile stuff on his plate before Quidditch matches, of all things.”

“That sounds like him. It’s definitely not a Weasley trait.”

“Definitely not. It’s always been a bad idea to keep Ron away from food. I’ll get him something, too. He’ll always eat again,” Hermione said, a shadow crossing her features. Ginny knew she was remembering their time on the run, but she didn’t want to make her friend sad.

“To be fair, I’ve been told I’m not pleasant when I’m hungry, either,” she said, nudging Hermione with her elbow. “And you can get rather short, yourself.”

Hermione nodded. “The Leaky Cauldron it is then. I wish I could stay, but I really do have to get back to the Ministry.”

“Not to worry, I’m supposed to meet the team for a planning session for our upcoming match.”

“I thought it was just exhibition?”

“It is, but that isn’t stopping Gwenog from going all out with her planning. This will get a lot of press, and we don’t want the Harpies’ going into the season with a loss.”

“But… it won’t matter in the standings, right?”

Ginny grinned. Even after all this time and living with four Quidditch fanatics, Hermione still didn’t understand the competitive mentality. “Yes, but perception is everything. Trust me, the Magpies’ captain is doing the same thing. Put it this way, if you went to a planning meeting on some new law, one where just ideas are being tossed around and it wouldn’t make a legal difference, would you want to be proven wrong outright?”

“Well, of course not, but…” Hermione trailed off, pressing her lips firmly together.

They’d reached the Leaky Cauldron and stepped inside, walking directly up to the bar. Hannah Abbott was just coming out from a back room, tying an apron around her back. “Hey! Long time, no see,” she said, grinning.

“Oh, Hannah — we would’ve walked back with you, but we just decided to grab some lunch to go,” Hermione said.

“That’s all right, I was late for my shift, so I left quickly. I’m sorry my aunt was so rude, Ginny,” Hannah said, apologetically.

“It’s not your fault,” Ginny said, still feeling rather unforgiving towards Mrs. Abbott.

“She can be very forceful, but she really was good to me after I lost my mum,” Hannah said, grimacing.

“I’m glad she was there for you. And don’t worry, I’m not easily intimidated,” Ginny said, squeezing Hannah’s hand.

“What can I get you?” she asked brightly.

Hermione placed a take-away order, and when Hannah went into the kitchen to place it, another witch approached the bar.

“Unspeakable Scott,” Hermione said, her eyes widening.

Ginny spun around to get a look at this witch she’d been hearing so much about. She wore well-tailored Ministry robes and large spectacles that covered her eyes entirely, as well as a good portion of her face. Despite the fact she wore only minimal make-up, Ginny found her quite striking.

“Ms. Granger,” Vivian Scott said, nodding, “I see we both thought of grabbing some fortitude before the Minister’s meeting this afternoon.”

Hermione blinked. “Er… meeting? I had an appointment earlier, so I was taking lunch back.”

Vivian’s eyes travelled over both Hermione and Ginny coolly. “I see. Yes, the Minister wants to update the entire team at half two.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you thought to stop, then,” Ginny said brightly before offering her hand to the older woman. “Ginny Weasley.”

Vivian slowly reached out her hand to shake Ginny’s, a twitch showed briefly in her left cheek. “Vivian Scott. So, you’re the one who burst into my safe house and scared the life out of my guards?”

Despite her best efforts to tamp it down, Ginny felt her face coloring brilliantly. Damn Weasley coloring always gave her away. “Well, if the situation had been explained properly, it wouldn’t have been necessary,” she said stiffly, refusing to be cowed. She’d do it again if they tried to lock Harry up.

“Duly noted. Of course, Pierce, the one whose Bubble-Head Charm you shattered, is delighted to tell the story to anyone who will listen about how he was attacked by the Holyhead Harpies’ best Chaser while he was guarding the Dark Lord Vanquisher. He’s become quite the celebrity in the staff room.”

Ginny opened and closed her mouth several time, feeling slightly like a fish, but unable to find the words.

It was Hermione’s snigger that broke the spell. “Oh, he hates that one.”

Ginny couldn’t tell if Vivian was amused or simply inquisitive.

“Hates what?” she asked, her brow furrowed.

“The nickname,” Ginny said. “He has loads, but he likes to pretend they don’t exist.”

“Ah, I see. You make quite the pair, then. I believed Pierce refers to you as ‘Wind Chaser Weasley’ when he tells his story.”

Ginny felt her color rising again. She had heard that name being chanted in the crowds during matches. “D’you follow Quidditch, then?” she asked.

“Not as avidly as some of my counterparts, but I do enjoy a good competition now and then. Green and gold are an excellent color combination.”

Ginny grinned. Anyone who followed Quidditch couldn’t be all bad, and a Holyhead Harpies’ supporter was even better. Before she could reply, Hannah returned from the kitchen, handing Hermione two large bags.

“Here you are, Hermione. I put in a few extra of the rolls Ron enjoys,” she said.

“Oh, thanks, Hannah, he’ll appreciate that. Cheers,” Hermione said, gathering the bags. “Ginny, I have to run. I expect we’ll all be late tonight if the Minister is having a meeting.”

“All right. I won’t wait up then. Good luck,” Ginny said, steering her toward the Apparition point. Once Hermione had disappeared, she turned back toward Vivian, who’d placed her order with Hannah.

“Well, I suppose I’ll be going. It was nice to meet you,” she said awkwardly.

“Do you all live together?” Vivian asked.

“Yes, along with another of my brothers who owns a joke shop here in Diagon Alley.”

“I see. The Minister did mention that Arthur had many children. Percy and Ron are the only ones who followed him into the Ministry, correct?” Vivian asked.

“That’s right. My oldest brother is a Curse-Breaker, and the next one is a Draconologist,” Ginny said, unable to cover the pride in her voice.

“I very much appreciate the fact that you have a houseful of brothers, yet you’re the Quidditch star. Good on you, Miss Weasley,” Vivian said, gracing her with one of her rare smiles.

Ginny felt oddly bolstered, uncertain why this stranger’s opinion was so important to her. “Well, I did used to sneak out to the garden to have a go on their brooms whenever they weren’t looking,” she said.

“I’m certain you did. It was a pleasure to meet you,” Vivian said, taking her order from Hannah. “Mr. Potter is a lucky man.”

“And I make certain he doesn’t forget it,” Ginny said, winking. The two women walked in easy camaraderie toward the Apparition point before disappearing toward their separate ways.

/* /* /* /*


Harry arrived back on the steps of Grimmauld Place well after midnight, feeling haggard and defeated. The illness was in England now, as they’d all expected it would be. Still, expecting and knowing were two different things. He wasn’t certain if Ron and Hermione were back yet or not, but he suspected Ginny would’ve already retired. Lacking the energy to cook anything, he stumbled into the sitting room and poured a small glass of Firewhisky from the decanter there. He sank wearily onto the couch, enjoying the slight burn as he took his first swallow.

It had been an abysmally long day.

He swirled the drink around in the glass, appreciating the way the light from the oil lamps shone off the color of the whisky. It reminded him of Ginny’s eyes.

Crookshanks, Hermione’s aged and rather grumpy cat, hopped up onto the couch and moved onto Harry’s lap, kneading his legs with his paws. His face was more white than orange now, with several lighter shades mixing in with his fur. He purred contentedly as Harry scratched behind his ears.

Kingsley had held a meeting with the entire team, and they’d decided they could no longer keep this quiet. It wasn’t going away. The number of cases was spreading rapidly, so they’d worked out a statement to be given to foreign leaders, and a press release that they’d decided they’d hold onto until word leaked out. They’d tossed around ideas on how to contain the virus and keep it from spreading any further. With regular Spattergroit, the victims were easy to spot, and wearing a Bubble-Head Charm and dragon-hide gloves usually sufficed for any needed contact. Otherwise, patients were just left to wait it out. The itching didn’t usually come until the pustules were healing, and before that, the only other symptom was fatigue. That was fortunate, the infected could sleep through most of their confinement.

Cerebrumous Spattergroit’s symptoms included severe confusion, hallucinations, and memory loss, in addition to the skin irritation. Victims could be bed-ridden for months.

Muggleton Spattergroit — which this was being referred to despite Hermione’s protests — had the same forgetfulness and confusion symptoms of Cerebrumous, but only minimal skin irritation. It also was far quicker acting. Several of the Muggles were already showing signs of recovery, where others’ hearts had simply stopped. These were the first cases of any kind of Spattergroit proving fatal.

During their meeting that afternoon, they’d come up with a Preparedness Response, and what steps they should — and could — take to limit the spread. This wasn’t like any battle Harry had waged. There wasn’t a Dark wizard or a Death Eater to catch. It was an invisible enemy, and most of the battles were taking place in planning sessions and theorizing ideas on slowing the spread. So many different, clashing opinions, and no one was exactly certain which view was right. It was maddening.

Harry would much prefer if he could act rather than wage endless planning. His mind kept going back to the time he, Ron and Hermione planned to storm the Ministry right here at Grimmauld Place. They tried to cover each and every possible hitch in their plans, yet when they arrived, everything had gone to hell anyway.

It always did.

So, how were they to ensure they covered everything this time where there was very little for an Auror to do?

Crookshanks had grown impatient with Harry, who’d been lost in his own thoughts, and he butted his head against Harry’s hand.

“Sorry, was I not petting you enough?” he asked, once again scratching the cat, whose purring resumed.

A flutter of wings caught his attention as his owl, Zeus, flew into the room, perching on the back of the sofa beside Harry. He had a scroll tied to his leg, and Harry furrowed his brow, uncertain who he’d sent a letter to that required a response.

Annoying Crookshanks again, he removed the letter, stroking Zeus’ soft feathers. The owl rubbed his head against Harry’s hand.

“Thanks, Zeus,” he said fondly, unfurling the scroll.


Harry,

I have a practice in the morning, so I’m turning in. Have some dinner, and wake me when you get home. You’ll be happy you did.

Love and indecent things,
Ginny



Harry grinned. She certainly made coming home worthwhile. He’d noticed she was getting more and more like Mrs. Weasley with her attempts to feed him all the time, but he wasn’t complaining. He had a good idea that she was behind Hermione showing up with lunch for him and Ron earlier today. It was a good thing, too, since they hadn’t eaten since.

How on earth had he ever gotten so lucky?

Zeus and Crookshanks were now competing for his attention, so he spent a few moments stroking each before he heard the front door opening. He rested his head on the back of the sofa, waiting to see who would appear. A moment later, Ron and Hermione entered the sitting room, Ron carrying a pizza box. Hermione joined him on the sofa while Ron sank into one of the armchairs, placing the pizza on the coffee table. Zeus ruffled his feathers indignantly and flew back to his perch.

“I’m starving,” Ron moaned, pulling out a slice and groaning with pleasure at his first bite. His eyes were bloodshot, and he looked absolutely wrecked.

Glancing at Hermione, Harry noted the dark circles beneath her eyes and the extra bushiness of her hair, which she’d tried to pull back. Typical of when she was working hard, various curls had pulled loose, and she kept blowing a puff of air to get them out of her eyes.

Harry didn’t expect he looked much better.

Hermione reached for a slice of pizza, handing it to him before reaching for one herself. Perhaps Hermione had inherited a bit of Mrs. Weasley, too. Harry took a bite of the pizza, relishing the taste as cheese spread over his tongue.

Perhaps he was hungrier than he’d thought.

Crookshanks had moved from his lap and walked over to Hermione, who made a spot for him on her own. She gave him a bit of cheese off the top of her pizza.

“I’m so tired, I think I might just sleep here,” Ron said, taking his third slice of pizza.

Hermione pulled out her wand, giving it a complicated little wave, and the pizza became whole again. “I feel bad for your dad. His department is so overloaded.”

“I know, and you’ve got enough to be getting on with, too,” Harry said. Mr. Weasley was arranging the contacts between other foreign dignitaries and keeping the Muggles abreast of what was happening while Hermione’s department continued the search for a potential venom. “There really isn’t a lot new for the Aurors to do aside from continuing the search for Gethin’s notes.”

“And looking for any links to the Death Eaters. Don’t forget they threw that bit in,” Ron said, swallowing.

“You’ll have a lot to do once the Ministry begins enforcing some of these containment measures. Unless someone they know gets sick, people aren’t going to like limiting contact,” Hermione said, tucking her feet beneath her. She looked as if she were considering falling asleep right there on the sofa, as well.

“Your dad will have to bring a lot more workers in, and with all the letters going out, there’s no way the Prophet won’t get wind of this soon,” Harry said.

“We’ll worry about that when it happens,” Ron said, reminding Harry fondly of Hagrid. He’d once told them the same thing before the war started.

“Should you tell Ginny we have pizza?” Hermione asked sleepily.

“Nah. She left me a note,” Harry said, waving his letter. “She has training in the morning, so let her sleep. Gwenog has been working them hard for this Exhibition Match.”

“Oh! She mentioned that today. I met her and your mum, Ron, for a fitting on the dress robes for Percy’s wedding,” Hermione said.

Harry snorted. “She hates those robes. How did it go?”

“It was all right,” Hermione said, rolling her eyes. “Except at one point, I wasn’t certain who would hex Mrs. Abbott first — Ginny or your mum, Ron.”

“Why?” asked Ron, sitting up with a grin. “What did she do now?”

“She suggested that Ginny should hide her hair by pulling it up and muting the color with flowers,” Hermione said, launching into the story of what had happened that morning.

“Who does she think she is?” Harry asked, getting to his feet and beginning to pace. “She should’ve hexed her.”

How dare that foul woman tell Ginny she had to hide anything about herself? He’d be certain to spin her on the dance floor so her beautiful hair spun right into that old biddy’s face, he thought, fuming.

“Relax, Harry,” Hermione said, putting another slice of pizza on his empty plate. “Ginny can handle herself. You know that.”

“Oh, I don’t think either she or Mum’ll ruin Percy’s day or anything, but I wouldn’t be surprised if the old crow’s dress falls apart at the reception,” Ron said, laughing.

“I’ll be glad when this ruddy wedding is done and over,” Harry said, grumbling as he sat back down. He thought of the little box hidden away back in his sock drawer. He wondered if it would be easier to just elope, and if Ginny would go along with that idea.

Probably not.

She was the only daughter, after all. He wondered if weddings caused this much bickering in all families.

“It hasn’t reached Australia yet, and hopefully it won’t if we can all implement some containment measures,” Hermione said.

Her parents had remained in Adelaide after the war, but Hermione had kept in close contact. She and Ron had visited them several times on holiday.

“They’re clever like their daughter. They’ll be able to keep themselves safe,” Ron said, nodding. “They’ll probably want you to go there since it’s more removed.”

Hermione beamed at him. “Probably, but they know my work is important to me. Hopefully, we can get a handle on it before it even becomes an issue there. Your dad said he was hoping to get all the letters out before the weekend. Then, it’ll be up to the foreign ministries on how each country handles it. It’ll be so much easier to contain amongst the magical community. It’s the Muggles I’m more concerned about.”

“Dad’s already met with the Muggle Prime Minister, so he’s handling it from their end. Dad said the man wasn’t too forthcoming with information on what he planned to do, but Dad admitted he’d just sort of dropped it on him.”

Hermione shook her head. “I can just imagine how much your dad wanted to know how the Muggles were going to handle everything. It’s nice that his fascination with them has never waned.”

“D’you know the first time I ever stayed at The Burrow, he kept asking me to explain things like how the postal system worked and about different departments in Muggle government,” Harry said, grinning. “I was twelve at the time and had no idea about most of it. I hope he’s not still going by some of my answers.”

Ron and Hermione laughed. “Let’s hope not,” Ron said, still chuckling, “but I wouldn’t count on it.”

“He once asked me how aeroplanes stayed up. I told him what I knew, but explained I didn’t have a degree in aerospace technology. I didn’t just make something up,” she said, mock glaring at Harry.

He pulled himself onto his feet, “On that note, I’m going to bed,” he said.

The friends cleared their mess, Hermione stored the remaining pizza in the cold cabinet, scowling at Harry’s still-full second piece, and they all headed off to bed.





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