A/N: Ask and ye shall receive. So... some information on this story. This is technically the fourth in a set. The first Ginny Potter and Hell's Portal is followed by Gypsy Child and then The Empty Crib, but as with the others, this can be read as a stand alone as well. Probably more so. For those who have been following along WELCOME BACK! I actually had a moment while writing the last chapter of The Empty Crib where I sighed and lamented that I hadn't really ever given Albus a main role in the other stories. Every time I tried, it just felt a little too forced. But between my feeling that Al needed his own story and so many reviews mentioning a desire for such, I decided to do it!

This one is going to be different. For one, I don't have a large villain plot going on here. The others have been centered around a more epic-like plot, but I'm going to call this one a chick flick (and proud of it). Second, I may be playing in that grey area a little more in terms of the T rating, just as a warning. Still won't have anything explicit, but there will be acknowledgement of adult relationships, similar to the other stories. Also, we'll be working in a bit of flashback as well! Hope you enjoy that!

Anyway, thank you for everyone who has been reviewing on the others and I hope this one is loved, too. I love getting your reviews and if you review while signed in, I do respond.

The Burrow

"Arthur Weasley."

Arthur swallowed and walked up towards the platform, looking over to the Gryffindor table where his brother Billius made a face at him, pointing towards the Slytherins. He didn't want to go to Slytherin and Billius had been analyzing it the entire train ride, always with the conclusion that Arthur would make a perfect addition to the serpent house.

It was good and bad to be the last one. By now, most of the older students weren't paying attention to the first years and were just ready for the sorting to be over. They whispered across the tables, catching up with friends. Still, Arthur was the last one. He had stood, every thought of how terrible this could end up cycling through his mind over and over again.

Arthur sat on the stool, a dark haired witch with narrow eyes setting the hat on his head like she had with countless others.

"Weasleys make my job easy," the hat said into his ear. "Gryffindor!"

There was some scattered applause as Arthur felt his face burn red as he hurried towards the Gryffindor table, tripping on his overly long robes, recovering amid laughter. Various hands patted his back as he found an empty space at the table.

"Way to go, Fart-thur," Billius said, reaching across the table and two other first years to ruffle Arthur's hair.

Arthur hit away his brother's hand away, though Billius laughed at the attempt before he pulled back.

"That your brother, then?"

Arthur was trying to straighten his hair back out as he looked across at the girl who had asked the question. He froze and blinked. It was another first year. He tried to remember what her name was from the lineup. All he could remember was there were a few people between them, and he only remembered that because she was the other first year with vivid red hair. Now that she was looking at him, he realized just how pretty she was too. She had a round face and wide, brown eyes. She may have even had more freckles than him, but hers seemed to spatter perfectly over her nose and under her eyes, like an intricate mask.

"Yeah. He's kind of a prat," Arthur muttered.

"My brothers are here, too," she said, turning to her right. "Those two way down there."

Arthur bent forward. Two identical boys, with the same eyes as the girl, and medium brown hair were showing off something in their hands to another older students.

"They're in their fifth year, now."

"Billius is third year," Arthur said. "I wish he were fifth. Then he'd be out of here sooner."

"Want the place to yourself, then?" the girl asked with a smile.

"No, then my younger brother will be here. Billius just likes to embarrass me."

"Fabian and Gideon like a laugh, too," she said, leaning over and grabbing a dinner roll. "My mum told them that if they even think of pulling anything on me, she'll make them work like house elves during the holidays. Make them wear curtains and all."

Arthur laughed, sputtering out the soup he'd taken a bite of. The girl made a look of disgust as she wiped away what had gotten on her robes. Arthur turned bright red, his face burning. "Sorry," he said.

"It's okay," she replied, though Arthur could tell it wouldn't be forgotten any time soon. Not the least of which because Billius had seen and was already mimicking the moment. "What's your name, by the way?"

"Arthur Weasley," he said quietly, wishing he could disappear.

"Good to meet you, Arthur," the girl said, smiling wide. "I'm Molly. Molly Prewett."

Albus scratched out another line on the page, pulled off his glasses, and rubbed at his eyes. He had been staring at a single page for the past hour and wasn't sure how much more he could handle on this topic. He stretched and dipped his quill in ink when Margaret Edgecombe walked into his office.

Margaret worked as a receptionist at Gringotts. She was pretty, blonde, a few years younger than Albus, and currently leaning against the doorway into Albus's office. They hadn't talked in almost a week and Albus leaned back in his chair, turning towards her.

"Hi, Maggie," Albus mumbled. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"Is there something you can help me with?" Margaret repeated, narrowing her eyes. "I thought you'd want to apologize by now."

"For what?"

"For what?!"

"Look, if I wanted to hear everything I said repeated, I would go buy myself a parrot," Albus said, turning back to the legislation in front of him.

"You," Margaret seethed. "You are unbelievable, Albus Potter."

"I'm working right now Maggie," Albus replied, not looking up from his work. "Which, if I remember correctly, was your problem with me."

"All I wanted was more time with you, Albus," she snapped.

"No, I believe your exact words were 'you have no love in you for anything except syntax and semantics.' I didn't ever applaud you for the alliteration on that one, by the way, so cheers."

Margaret took in a deep, huffing breath, pulling up in stature, which still didn't do much for her. Albus kept looking at his page, though his eyes still weren't concentrating on any words or phrases.

"You are cruel!" Margaret snapped. "You are hateful and I never want to see you again."

She stomped her foot and turned to leave.

"So you said last week," Albus muttered under his breath.

"That was quite a scene," James said, stepping into the office just as Albus thought he'd have quiet again.

"Great," Albus said, throwing down his quill. "I guess I'm never going to get this done."

"Easy, there," James said, laughing. "I thought she was a bit of a pill myself. Imogen had a couple ideas of some girls from the clan to set you up with before you asked out Maggie last month."

Albus rolled up the scroll he'd been working on, setting it neatly in order with the others in the queue.

"I think I'm done with that," Albus said. "Tell Imogen thanks, but no thanks."

"Come on, Al," James said. He picked up a carved wooden figure of a frog from the corner of Albus's desk. Albus reached over and plucked it from his hands, setting it back down. "We just want you to be happy."

"I am happy," Albus said, pulling a couple books from the shelf, packing them into the leather messenger bag he used for work. "Just because I didn't find a soulmate at fifteen like everyone else in our family doesn't mean I'm not happy."

"Alright," James shrugged. "Imogen still wanted you to come to dinner tonight."

"Can't," Albus replied.

"Why not?" James asked, standing as Albus stepped out of the door. Everyone else in the office had gone home well over an hour before.

"I have to read up on the precedence for these laws. The brief is due at the end of the week and—"

"And Andreas keeps asking why Uncle Al hasn't come to see him in a while," James said.

There it was. The ultimate guilt trip. His family was using it more and more often, having realized that his nieces and nephews seemed the most influential pawns to getting Albus to drop what he should be doing.

Andreas was eight, now. James and Imogen had two others. A six year old daughter named Trina and a three year old boy named Fritz. Lily and Lorcan, too, had made quick work of procreating once they started. The latest count was four daughters under the age of five—Abigail, five, the twins Callie and Cara, four, and Harriet, aged two—with a fifth on the way. The joke in the family was to place bets on whether their brood was a result of Lorcan holding out for a son or Lily trying to singlehandedly populate the Holyhead Harpies two decades from now.

The whole lot of them could distract Albus in an instant.

"Fine," Albus said. "But I can't stay late. There really is a lot to do."

Albus turned to lock the door when an owl barrelled down the hall, hitting him against his head and knocking his glasses off. James laughed as he bent down to pick up the paper.

"What the hell," Albus complained. "Owls aren't allowed in the ministry."

James opened the paper and his smile faded as he read. "Not unless it's an emergency," he corrected Albus. James turned on his heels and Albus walked after him.

"What is it? James?"

"It's grandpa," he replied, hurrying to the lift, holding it as Albus stepped in.

They rushed together in silence into Mungo's. They were given directions to the wrong floor before they finally saw the gathering of almost all their uncles, standing with their parents.

"Mum," James called. He walked by Percy and hugged Ginny. "You okay?"

Ginny nodded, holding onto him, then turning to hug Albus as well. "We can go in and see him in a mo," she said.

"Got himself good and shocked with a muggle car battery," George explained.

"I've said for ages we need to throw all that away," Percy said.

"Yeah, like he's not just going to go get more," Bill countered.

It had been six months since Molly had passed away. Albus had experienced few things that were worse than going through the loss of his grandmother, and that was nothing to how Grandpa Weasley was handling it. Molly hadn't felt well for a couple weeks before they took her to St. Mungo's. Of course, she hadn't told anyone of her symptoms, continuing to cook and clean as she generally did. By the time they went to Mungo's and they found she had Scrofungulus, it was too late. She was gone within the week to the shock and grief of everyone who knew her.

Everyone tried their best to make the funeral a true celebration of her life and the love she always showed to her children and all who knew her, but Albus could hardly remember what had been said or the toasts that had been made. What he did remember was Arthur sitting with his legs crossed, looking numbly into space.

Albus didn't know why, but he was insistent that he would continue to live at the Burrow. Both Molly and Fred were buried at the local cemetery, so it didn't particularly surprise him on that count, but the house was just so large. Albus didn't know how he was possibly keeping it up, and if today was any indication, perhaps he didn't bother with the house much at all. Perhaps he spent most of his time in the workshop on his various projects.

A healer came out of Arthur's room, shocked to see the mass of visitors in front of him. "I-I'm sorry, only direct relatives."

"We are direct relatives," Ginny said.

"Then, er," the healer scratched his head. "Then, perhaps four at a time?"

"That's fine," Bill said, waving over Louis, who had just arrived. Albus wondered how many others were coming. Charlie, certainly.

"James needs to get home to Imogen," Ginny said.

"Why don't you all go first, then," George offered.

Ginny pulled Albus and James along, Harry taking up the rear as they entered the hospital room. Arthur was sitting up, smiling wide, the hair he still had was white. Albus had never noticed before, but his hands were shaky in his lap. He wondered if it was part of shocking himself, or if this was a new development of his age.

"James! Albus!" Arthur said. "Didn't know you came, too. What a nice surprise!"

As Albus pulled away, Arthur pressed a sickle into his hand. "We don't need this, Grandpa," Albus said, trying to give it back.

"Speak for yourself," James said with a glint in his eye, pressing his own coin into his pocket. "I'm getting an ice cream on the way home."

Arthur chuckled. "Ginny, dear—"

"What were you thinking?" she demanded as she cut him off.

Albus stepped back by the wall, wondering how his grandfather didn't melt under that glare.

"It was really a harmless—"

"Harmless? Harmless?!"

Albus was reminded of Maggie. Somehow the repetition seemed more threatening coming from Ginny. Albus mused for a moment that perhaps Maggie should take up private lessons with her.

"What if Rolfus hadn't been by to check on you?" Ginny demanded. "Messing around with muggle objects you have no clue about."

"It's all in good fun, Ginny dear," he said. "And I learned my lesson on that one. Won't be doing that again."

"It's not a laugh," Ginny snapped.

"Ginny," Harry whispered, putting a hand on her arm.

Ginny swallowed, taking a deep breath. "Once they release you, you're moving in with me and Harry."

The apologetic grin disappeared from Arthur's face.

"No," he said.

"This isn't up for discussion," Ginny said.

"No," he repeated. "I'm not leaving my home."

"Dad, you—"

"I said no, Ginevra," he shouted. She looked stunned, her eyes wide open, her mouth tight. No one was used to Arthur being firm. Albus looked away. "Just because you look like your mother does not give you the right to decide what happens to our house."

Albus exchanged a glance with James. "Er, I guess Al and I will just—"

"No, stay and visit with your grandfather," Ginny said, not looking away from Arthur, tears filling her eyes and pouring over. "God knows how long he has left before he gets himself killed."

She turned and marched out the door, wiping at her face with Harry following. Albus looked at Arthur. His gaze was distant again, the same as it was at the funeral. He waited a moment, then blinked and turned towards James. Arthur's jovial smile returned. "How's Imogen doing?" he asked.

They had gone round and round the table with the same arguments again and again. Albus could distill it into two basic options.

The first was to let Arthur continue living as he was and hope something like today didn't happen again. This might include some weeding out of his collections and trying to figure out how to minimize the chances he would blow himself up with one of his projects. Or to just accept what would happen as it came.

"I can't lose both of them in the same year," Ginny cried. Bill sat on her left and put an arm around her as she wiped at her eyes.

"Well then, we have to go through the right channels," Hermione sighed.

None of them wanted to actually follow through on the second option, even if it seemed the more reasonable course of action. If Grandpa Weasley wasn't going to choose to live somewhere that he would be taken care of, they would have to put in orders to legally put him in the care of one of his children.

"He's not that far gone, yet," George argued.

"He can't be without some kind of supervision," Percy disagreed. "Mum always managed to keep him from going completely daft with that stuff, but now…"

They all sat in silence, each filling in the various endings to that sentence. Now he was lost. Now he was reckless. Now he didn't have direction. Now he might just blow himself up.

Albus sat back, realizing there was a third option.

"What if one of us lived with him?" he asked.

"We all have our own lives to be getting on with," Ron said. "We can't just sell our houses to move back there at this point."

"I could," Albus said.

"Al," Ginny said.

"No, really, Mum," Albus said. "My lease is up in a month anyways. And there's plenty of room at the Burrow, right?"

"That's not going to take care of what happens while you're at work," James pointed out.

"So I make one of the rooms into my office there," Albus shrugged. "It's quiet enough, I think. So long as Aunt Hermione's okay with that arrangement."

Hermione had been the Minister for just over five years. Before that, she had Albus's position as Head of Magical Law. Albus had expected the position to be taken from him at one point. Afterall, he'd only been given the job in the first place because the previous Minister thought he was using Albus to his benefit. Albus, of course, had his own plans, which included getting his family cleared of various trumped up charged. When they did come back and Hermione was given her new position, Albus kept reminding her that someone needed to take his place. Hermione did well at playing it off like something that was in the works, but she never did reassign the job, so he kept going until he realized that had been her intention from the beginning.

In the latest need, this may have actually been helpful. He didn't need to be at the Ministry for most of what he did.

"I'll have to go in for trials and some meetings, but I could do most of the work from the Burrow, right?" he confirmed.

"I don't see why not," Hermione affirmed.

"What about Maggie," Ginny asked.

"We broke it off," Albus said. He hadn't told anyone yet. James having just found out when he witnessed Margaret's fit. Albus felt heat rise to his neck, unsure if he was imagining all eyes on him or if it was just the disappointed look from his mother at yet another failed attempt at a relationship. "So that won't matter."

"I don't know," Ginny muttered still.

"I think it's worth a try," Bill said. "We can either make a deal with Dad that when Albus isn't there he doesn't mess around in the shed, or even make him think it's his idea."

"If it doesn't work, we can always go to plan B," Ron said. "But I don't see why we should upset Dad if we don't have to."

Everyone fell into a lull. They all knew this was their best chance at a happy medium.

"Well," Ginny said with a sigh. "I guess we should help you figure out what you need, Al."

"Down! Everything down," Emily shouted over the class, who were happily levitating various objects from their book bags by the end of class.

Quills, bottles of ink, and books all fell back to their owners, until all that was left was a single light pink blanket, tattered and well loved, floating above the head of Sarah Nettles as she reached for it.

"Give it back," she hissed.

Daniel Waters sat behind her, his wand pointing up, levitating it with a smile.

"I think we need another example of the uses of Wingardium Leviosa," Emily said, pointing her wand at Daniel's chair, silently doing what her beginning grade class had just learned using the incantation.

Daniel's wand lowered as he gripped the sides of his chair, the blanket dropping into Sarah's hands as he shouted. The rest of the class laughed and Emily set him back down.

"Careful where you point your wand, Mr. Waters," Emily said. The bell rang and the students shoved their things into their bags. "Don't forget to look over cheering charms for next class! I want you all to come prepared next time. That means you, Kendra."

They all shuffled out of class and Emily noticed out of the corner of her eye Daniel waiting by the door until Sarah exited. He followed her, talking low as she wrapped her arms around herself. Emily only caught one bit of his taunting. "... still carrying your baby blanket around. Seriously, how old are…"

Emily took in a deep breath and walked to the edge of the hallway. "Ms. Nettles, you forgot the book I had for you," she said from where she stood. Daniel stood up straight, watching. "On you go, Daniel," Emily shooed him.

He walked on as Emily brought Sarah back into the class. Sarah was on the verge of tears.

Emily had taught at the Towers Academy of Pennsylvania since she was twenty-five. Eight years. The Academy had students that lived at home and took the floo network from any of the five neighboring states that made up the school's populations. Some students, like Sarah, boarded at the school itself. She was a sweet girl, but timid. Emily wanted to help her out with Daniel, but in her experience with bullies the attention—even negative attention—only egged on their efforts more.

Even then, there were worse messages to give Sarah. The week before, Emily heard another teacher trying to tell Sarah that Daniel picked on her because he liked her. Emily almost chewed out Grete Miller for feeding such an idiotic message to an eleven year old girl. Daniel was a bully because of his own issues, certainly, but the last thing Sarah needed was to think that someone who would treat her like shit did it because he liked her.

"Shake it off," Emily told Sarah, pulling out a book from her drawer as Sarah's tears fell. "Don't let him get to you."

"I know I'm too old to carry around my baby blanket," Sarah said. Emily gave her some tissues to wipe her eyes. "It's the only thing my mom made me before she died. I just like having it with me."

Emily let out a long, steady breath. She pulled Sarah into her. "Then don't let someone like Daniel ruin that connection, hon."

Emily didn't have anything from her mother. Or her father, for that matter. They died when she was too young to remember. Her older sister Taylor told her stories from time to time, but Emily knew it wasn't an easy situation for Taylor to talk about. Particularly because of what it lead to—first, living with their insane and abusive grandmother, then ending up under the Imperius Curse at a compound where they were used for their magic.

When Emily was eleven, Taylor and a group of others came to free everyone still under the control of the man who ran the compound. Emily never talked about any of this. Not to anyone. After they left, Emily moved in with their Aunt Josephine and Taylor came to visit whenever she had time away from the Dragon Reserve where she worked in Romania, and they never talked about the past. Even with a student like Sarah, Emily would listen and give them books and treats and help them through the early months of living away from home, but she never told them about her own past.

"How are your other classes going?" Emily asked, pulling up a chair and waving her wand to place another for Sarah in front of her.

Sarah talked about her classes and teachers for the next fifteen minutes. She launched into an exciting telling of how she was now best friends with Madelyn Andersen, who she shared a dormitory with, and about how she was waiting for an owl to come back from her dad, but that he hadn't replied in over a week.

"I'm sure you'll hear from him soon," Emily said with a smile. "You should probably get to lunch before it's over."

"Yeah," Sarah said, standing. "Madelyn's probably waiting."

"Don't forget the book," Emily said reaching over to the desk to hand it over.

"Thanks Miss Davis," Sarah said with a wide smile and ran from the room.

Emily sat back, hoping Daniel was too busy to bother Sarah. She stood and walked to the desk, pulling at a messy pile of scrolls, glimpsing the answers as she tried to straighten them out. She seemed in a perpetual state of getting organized. There were three empty mugs that she needed to wash out. Instead, she'd probably grab a new one to fill with coffee in the next hour and it would be added to the growing collection.

There was a knock at the classroom door. Emily turned. "Eric," she said. "Come in."

"Hey, I only had a minute," he said, stepping into the room.

Emily set down the scrolls. "Sure," she said, walking over to give him a quick peck on the lips.

Eric started teaching Biology of Magical Beings at the Academy two years before. He was tall with perfect blonde hair and one of the whitest smiles Emily had ever seen on a man. If that hadn't been enough for her to be immediately interested, they spent one of his first nights in Pennsylvania at a bar talking about everything from their favorite Quodpot teams to their biggest blunders in the classroom. He was funny, smart, and clever. Most importantly, he had his life together, which was more than what Emily could say for half the men she'd dated in the past decade.

"Yeah, babe, I wanted to talk really quick," Eric said.

"What is it?" Emily asked.

Eric pulled Emily in by the waist, licking his lips. "I know I promised we'd go out this weekend—" Emily rolled her eyes at his introduction, knowing what was coming "—but there's this thing… and I got tickets to go see the New York-New Hampshire Quodpot game with Evan, and—"

"You ditched out on me last weekend," Emily said.

"I know, but it's New York playing! Come on, you know it's almost impossible to get those tickets."

"Of course I know," Emily replied, looking at him. "I bought us tickets for your birthday last year."

"Come on, babe," Eric said. "We'll go out tomorrow night."

"You're not going to get drunk and be too hungover?" she asked, knowing how he got when he went to a live game.

"Cross my heart," Eric said.

"Fine," Emily sighed. "But whatever you plan better be good."

"Thanks, babe," Eric said, that perfect white smile almost enough to melt away her irritation that he was ditching her. Again. He leaned in and kissed her, his hands lowering. Emily pulled away.

"We're at work," she reminded him.

"Yeah," he sighed. Eric grabbed her chin and gave one more gentle kiss before pulling away, winking, and heading out of the class.

Emily stood there for several moments, thinking of Sarah and Daniel and the mixed messages of how to tell if a guy liked you. She couldn't help but think Eric wouldn't pass that test with flying colors.

"Don't move your grandma's pots," Arthur instructed as Albus tried to gather some of the old, worn sauce pans from where they hung.

The kitchen was probably the cleanest room in the house. Not much comfort to most of the family. Apparently Grandpa Weasley had been going out once a day to the muggle tavern for supper, but shut himself away with his projects the rest of the time. The other rooms at the Burrow had clothes, blankets, and trash littered throughout.

Albus started by cleaning all of it up. Ginny came the first weekend to help out, redecorating her old room for Albus and helping turn the room on the next floor up into a decent home office. She had even gone out and bought him a owl for corresponding.

"What are you going to name him?" Ginny asked, setting the large barn owl on a perch in the office.

"'Nine-to-Five'," he replied.

"Albus," Ginny said, giving him a look. He just smiled and shrugged.

He would have to figure out how to get rid of the ghoul in the attic without Grandpa noticing. Grandpa never went upstairs and wouldn't even know the thing had gone missing, though he insisted Albus not change too much.

And now it was the pots and pans.

"I have a newer set," Albus said. "I can't cook with this old stuff."

"Molly was always very particular about the kitchen," Arthur said. "She liked it a certain way."

"Well, can I unpack mine at least?" Albus asked, feeling more irritated than he wanted to at Arthur.

"I guess that would be fine," Arthur answered, scratching his head. "Just don't move her things."

"Alright, Grandpa," Albus sighed.

"I'll be out in the shop working," Arthur said.

"Okay."

Albus was glad to finally have all his things here. He'd been following Grandpa Weasley's habit of eating their evening meal out and adding in simple breakfasts and sandwiches for lunch, but Albus learned in his mid twenties he liked to cook for himself. The girls he dated were often surprised that his apartment was always immaculate and he rarely took them out to eat, making gourmet meals for them instead. They were pleasantly surprised that he managed these household tasks without prompting. They were less pleasantly surprised when this was attached to his habitual sense of independence.

He pulled out a saucepan and used his wand to summon the butter, flour, and milk to start a simple sauce, thinking about what else he wanted to get done that day.

There were at least a dozen drafts for briefs he needed to go through. There was a case he needed to review. That didn't include the owls he needed to respond to from half a dozen officials at the Ministry. Albus had seriously underestimated how much time it would take to get the Burrow in order. At the same time, he reminded himself this was why someone needed to be here. While Grandpa Weasley wasn't helpless, Grandma had created so many habits of taking care of things herself Grandpa didn't know where to start anymore.

Albus went back and forth in how he felt about the situation. He was single for a reason—several reasons, if Margaret were to be believed—but a benefit to being single was he only had to worry about himself. Now he peeked out of the window every ten minutes to make sure there wasn't fire coming from the shed. He got up early to get laundry done for both of them. He had to make sure Grandpa Weasley ate. It was uncomfortable having someone else depend on him like this.

"Stop complaining," he muttered to himself, setting water on to boil. "When else are you going to get a chance to know Grandpa so well?"

Still, there was a balancing act that would need to take place. Albus looked out the window, wondering if he could really manage it.