Author's Note: My new story, just meant to be a bit of fun during these tough times. I never thought I would do a Muggle Au so this experience has been interesting! I see this running about 10 chapters or so and have about half written. Updates should be faily regular. Many thanks to NaruKoibito for being my exceptional beta and hand-holder. And to everyone at The Ginny Lovers Discord for being great sounding boards and brainstormers. You know who you are. I blame them for this one. ;) And also, as I know absolutely nothing about football (soccer) all mistakes are mine and mine alone regarding any confusion there.

Moving the Goalposts

"International football star, Harry Potter (seen here with long-time love, sports fashion designer Cho Chang) announces plans to open a series of sports centers for troubled teens. Bringing sport to the under-privileged and way-ward youth has been a dream of the roguish football player since he himself was a teenager –" (Chepstow Review, August 2005)

"Harry Potter hurt during charity football skirmish! Will he play again? Are his feet really insured for half a million each? What does this mean for his future as a player? Can the Fulham club bound back without their star center-back?" (Bath Chronicle, May 2006)

"Harry Potter Returns to Football! After months of being out with injury, the man most opposing players tremble to see coming at them down the field has returned to active duty! Will he be the same star player as before? Can he last a whole game with that previously injured leg?" (Chepstow Review, July 2007)

"Harry Potter to retire! After months of struggling and sitting on the bench, the previous all-star player has announced he is leaving the game. After the horrible injury he received last year, it has been a struggle for the formerly strong player to return to his previous heights of glory. Also of note, his long-time love, Cho Chang, has been seen around town with new rugby star Roger Davies! Could this also have something to do with our sports hero's need to flee? Turn to page 12 to find out more…." (Total Football, March 2008)

Harry made a face as his godfather Sirius continued reading the latest story. He rested his head on his hand and sighed, stirring cream into his coffee. His "uncle," Remus Lupin, smiled at him from across the table and gave him a look full of commiseration. He and Harry both knew there was no stopping Sirius when he was on a roll. And the latest batch of newspaper articles about Harry had been just the thing to set the older man off. Harry had made his announcement months ago, but still, the papers acted as though it was brand new information.

"Of course, there's no mention of your charitable contributions or your successful sport-centers, helping kids find focus and getting them off the streets. Oh, no, all this…" Sirius paused in mid-rant, looking at the byline of the article, an immediate sneer appearing on his face. "All this R. Skeeter bloke can do is write rubbish and throw pictures of your ex-girlfriend, who's scantily clad at some nightclub, in our bloody faces!"

Sirius threw the paper down in disgust, and Harry peered at it over his coffee cup. "Is Cho really scantily clad? Should I save it for when things get terrible and no one will date me because I'm a washed out, used up former sports star who's not even that handsome?"

Remus snorted into his eggs and gave Harry an amused look. "You mean for when the only comfort you can find is in the faded photograph of a former love, and you've taken to carrying it around with you in remembrance?"

Harry grinned cheekily at his uncle. "I was thinking of using it for future wanking material, but your idea sounds better. Much more pathetic."

Sirius interrupted them with a scowl from the kitchen entryway. "I don't know why you two think this is funny! This Skeeter bloke is ruining Harry's reputation with their nonsense. They practically imply you can barely walk without someone to help you!"

Remus raised his eyebrow at his old friend and then looked at Harry. "I think we all know that job falls to someone else around here, Sirius."

Harry watched as his uncle used his hands to push himself away from the table, his wheelchair moving smoothly back in one fluid motion. Sirius's face turned red immediately.

"Remus! I'm sorry, I didn't mean…"

"No, I know you didn't mean to, old friend," Remus said, rolling over to Harry's godfather. "You were just starting a fine rant on Harry's behalf, I know. However, I think your godson could do without the theatrics for once?"

Sirius looked at Harry, a sheepish grin on his face. "Sorry, Harry. I just get riled up." He came over to the table and sat down in the chair next to his godson's.

"It's okay, Sirius. I like that you get riled up for me. It just means I don't have to spend any time doing it myself."

Remus laughed as he came back from the kitchen, his briefcase on his lap, and his to-go cup in his hand. "I won't be home tonight, just a reminder. Think you two bachelors can fend for yourselves? Maybe do something other than order take-away for a change?"

"Where are you going to be instead?" Sirius asked, moving the other man's briefcase off his lap and into the carrying compartment the wheelchair had on the side.

"Dora's, remember? It's Tuesday."

"Oh yeah, this is your weekly shag-date, isn't it, Moony?" Sirius said, winking at Harry.

Harry saw his uncle roll his eyes, but his lips twitched in amusement. "Jealous, Padfoot? I know it's been a while since you've had a leg over. I'm sure Dora has a few friends left that you haven't yet impressed with your charming ways."

"Not my fault she always sets me up with boring birds, Remus. It's like she wants me to settle down and become respectable or something." Sirius looked affronted at the idea.

Remus merely shook his head at his friend and nodded at Harry. "Take care, Harry, and don't let the bad press get you down. It has to taper off in a few days, I'm certain. They know they're just running the same story again and again. Are you meeting that rehab-coach friend of yours later?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah, Ron. Ron Weasley. He's been across the pond, and I haven't seen him since he released me from care. It'll be nice to hang out with someone who's not going to ask me how my leg is. Well, at least if Ron does it, it'll be in a professional sense."

Remus maneuvered his chair around and headed towards the door, off to his post as a school science teacher. Harry was glad this particular job had panned out. Remus had been through a lot and deserved a nice place to work where they accepted him and didn't just hire him to fill some quota of disabled people. Remus had been studying to become an astrophysicist before his illness had crippled him and put him in the wheelchair. Now he focused on the general sciences and taught young kids, trying to get them interested in the subject.

Harry looked at his godfather, who was now drinking his coffee and reading the rest of the paper. Sirius worked as a dog trainer and, as such, usually had work in the mornings.

"No dogs to train this morning?"

Sirius glanced at him. "No, told Becca to give me a few mornings off this week."

"To watch over me in my time of need?" Harry asked knowingly. Sirius liked to play it cool, but Harry knew that deep down inside, his godfather was a serious mother-hen.

Sirius snorted. "No. You wish, Potter. I am merely living my life and enjoying the luxury of a few mornings off."

Harry shook his head and got up, moving his dishes and cup to the kitchen area dishwasher. He wondered if he had time to go into town to pick up a few things before his lunch with Ron Weasley. Remembering that the article Sirius had been so upset about had just come out, Harry reckoned maybe staying in this morning was a better idea. Then again, he could also just wear his glasses and skip his contacts. No one tended to recognize him if he looked like a nerdy git. If Harry threw on some baggy clothes, his look was practically indistinguishable.

"I'm going to go do some light exercise," Harry said, making up his mind and heading towards the stairs. Their bedrooms and his old training room were all located on the second level. There was a small mechanical contraption sitting next to the staircase that Sirius had put in to help Remus get up and down. Harry had to admit it was a pretty ingenious device and had saved them from having to move. They lived in his parent's old house, and Harry had not wanted to sell it. It was the only thing he really had of theirs, other than the memories of their two best friends that had helped raise him. His parents had died shortly after Harry had been born, and he had unfortunately never known them. But he liked living in their former house. It made him feel closer to them.

"Don't overdo it," Sirius called out as Harry was half-way up the stairs. Harry shook his head and bit back his retort. Yes, a serious mother-hen, indeed.

o-o-o-o-o

Harry made his way down the high street of the little village he liked to call home- Godric's Hollow. Harry didn't really know who Godric was or had been, but it was a quaint little place. He liked to think his parents had enjoyed it too for the first few years they'd lived there. According to Remus, not much had changed in the village, and Harry could almost imagine his mother and father shopping in the same market he did, or maybe they had gone to the same cinema he liked.

He stopped at one of the new blocks of buildings that had just recently popped up – there were expensive flats and shops and unique restaurants now at the end of the high street. The rest of the village (i.e., the older residents) tended to give the new area a wide berth, but Harry knew that younger people such as himself would most likely be drawn to it.

He stopped in front of a trendy new bistro, The Hearth and Wink, trying to look in. The restaurant was all glass and chrome and full of bright light. Harry would have preferred eating at his favorite pub, the Dragon's Wake, run by their family friend Hagrid, but Ron was new to the area and hadn't wanted to get lost.

As Harry was peering in, he caught a glimpse of red in the reflection from the restaurant window. Immediately thinking it was Ron (the man was an undeniable ginger from fifty-feet away), Harry turned to call to him only to realize it was a young woman with long, fiery red hair walking past on the other side of the street. She was short, yet well proportioned and quite fit-looking, to Harry's eyes. He couldn't help it, he watched her walking and enjoyed it very much – something stirring in his chest that he hadn't felt in a long time. Her hair, the most brilliant shade of red he'd ever seen, was flowing behind her as she moved gracefully through the other pedestrians.

Harry realized with a start that he was still holding his hand up to wave hello and dropped his arm quickly as the woman glanced across the street at him. She had on dark sunglasses, and Harry couldn't be sure if she'd seen his moment of being a dunderhead or not. He started matching her stride to see if he could figure out where she was heading. It wasn't creepy if he was across the street following a woman around the village, was it? Before Remus's voice could answer in the affirmative inside his head, Harry ran smack dab into another person, hitting his head on their chin.

"Ow, bloody hell…" Harry muttered and looked up to see who or what he'd run into. Harry felt joy push through him. "Weasley! Ron Weasley, as I live and breathe!"

The other man smiled sardonically at him. "All right there, Harry? You ran right into me, mate."

Harry rubbed his forehead, laughing. "Sorry, I wasn't paying attention. Come here!" Harry pulled his old rehab coach in for a hug. He had honestly missed the other man's company. Ron had been one of the few people Harry had been able to befriend after his accident. Ron was a person who hadn't been out for a story. Or for the glory of being seen as his so-called friend.

"I noticed," Ron said dryly. He looked across the street. "What were you gaping at anyway?"

Harry felt his skin heat. "Oh, uh, just thought I saw someone I knew."

Ron gave him a knowing look. "Caught sight of a cute bird, didn't you?"

Harry laughed. "Fine, yes, she was quite fit. I was just debating with myself about how creepy it would be for me to follow her to try to chat her up."

Ron grabbed his arm and turned them around toward the restaurant. "It would most definitely be creepy, as well as sending you in the wrong direction for meeting me. Come on, women can wait. I'm hungry!"

o-o-o-o-o

After a surprisingly enjoyable lunch of fancy, mini-pizzas, and a hearty salad, Harry and Ron were enjoying themselves out on the patio of the restaurant. Ron had a nice large pint of the local ale he was appreciating, and Harry was enjoying a tall, fizzy drink the waiter had called a 'Winky's Gleam.' It had pineapple, gin, lemonade, and something that made it turn a bright blue color that Harry nevertheless enjoyed. Even if it did make him feel slightly less manly to be seen drinking it.

"So, America, huh?" Harry asked Ron as their discussion of the latest team standings had given way to more personal subject matters.

Ron rubbed his hand through his hair. "Yeah, what a trip living there was. It was bloody exciting at first, and Hermione really enjoyed being in New York and then near Boston. She dragged me to every museum and old bookstore you can find over there. But…I don't know. We missed England. There's something about being home that just feels…right. And my folks are getting on in years, and we want to start a family soon, so here I am, back in Blighty."

"How are your brothers doing or, no, wait, you have a sister, too, right?" Harry asked. He'd only met one or two of Ron's family, which wasn't all that strange if you considered the fact that he had six other siblings.

"They're good. Bill's out in Egypt of all places, dragging his wife and daughter around to different digs. Charlie's just gone to the Galápagos to study his bloody lizards. Percy's working for the government, of course. Fred and George have more than a couple of shops now, they're doing quite well, come to think of it. Cheeky blighters. Picked us up at the airport in a bloody Jag. And Ginny is…well, she's floundering a bit, really. She had a bad break-up with that git, Dean Thomas. He plays for Arsenal, and he's an utter arse. Not that I'd think anyone is good enough for my baby sister, mind you, but he really wasn't. Cheated on her, tried to get her in trouble with the team – she was their marketing manager – and he implied she traded favors for…well, favors. If you know what I mean."

"Wow, I've only met him once. He started playing after my accident happened. We didn't really run into each other that much on or off the field. He seemed like an okay bloke at the time. I'm sorry she went through that. I know better than anyone, football brings out the worst in people."

Ron sighed. "Yeah, I'm worried about her, to tell the truth. I've put my wife onto her to help sort her out, but Ginny doesn't really respond well to people interfering. She keeps telling me it's fine that she lost that job because she hated it anyway, but I still can't help but worry. Anyway, how about you? Your godfather all right? And your uncle, he was pretty healthy last time we talked. Has he had any relapses?"

Harry shook his head. "He's good. He's dating his former nurse, Dora. It makes me and Sirius sleep a little better at night when he's away, to know that she's a nurse. Actually, I've never seen Remus look better, so she must be good for him."

"And your ex…er, what was her name? Oh, yeah. Cho. The Women's Sports Designer. I noticed her on a couple of magazines we saw at Heathrow. Dating Roger -what's- his- name now, isn't she?"

Harry grimaced but nodded. "Yeah, I reckon I don't feel any ill will towards Cho. We just grew apart, and we had decided to call it quits long before I announced my retirement. I just wished she hadn't chosen that weekend to go out with her new boyfriend. Sort of made me look like a complete pillock."

Ron grinned good-naturedly at him. "Well, let me know when you're ready to date again. Hermione said she's got loads of ladies she'd like you to meet."

"Hermione doesn't even know what sort of girls I like!"

Ron snorted and finished his pint. "Never stops her, mate. She tries to fix up everyone I know. It's her mission in life. Well, other than saving the world from itself, that is."

"Is she still a social worker? No, wait, wasn't she going back to school for something else?"

Ron shook his head. "Blimey, Harry. You have no idea. In America, she'd take courses left and right. She's pretty much qualified to do anything at this point. Now she's setting her sights on becoming a barrister over here to fight the good fight. That's why I am hoping she takes to helping Ginny out for a bit, give me some peace and quiet."

Harry chuckled as the waiter dropped off the cheque. He picked it up before Ron could even move. The other man frowned.

"I know I'm out of work currently but, I can still pick up a cheque, you know. Those Americans paid great."

Harry shook his head. "You get it next time. Consider this my welcome home gift to you. I've missed you, I gotta say, Ron. I love my godfather and uncle something fierce, but I haven't had anyone my age to actually talk to in a long time. My teammates basically blew me off the minute they realized I couldn't make them any more money."

Ron looked serious for a moment. "I'm sorry, Harry. That's awful, but at least you know they weren't really your friends. Well, look, as soon as we get our house set up, expect dinner at ours at least three times a week. Hermione took a cooking class in the States and is dying to poison someone. I'd rather it not be me, so, cheers!"

They laughed, and both got up as Harry paid the tab at the front. After promising to talk later in the week with their mobiles, the two friends parted company. Harry turned to look at the other side of the street again, hoping against hope that the cute redhead he'd seen earlier would be over there, making her way back. Unfortunately, all Harry saw were two blokes looking shifty and a couple of old ladies getting out of their way. He watched for a moment to make sure the two men didn't start any trouble. Once it appeared everything was going to be all right, he turned and headed for home.

Harry felt lighter now that he knew he'd have someone his age to talk to again. And who knows, maybe he would take Ron's wife up on her offer to set him up. He'd been without female companionship for ages now – he and Cho hadn't been romantic for months before she'd left. And if staring at random redheads across the village street was any indication, then Harry was more than ready.

o-o-o-o-o

A few weeks later, Harry was finally going over to Ron and Hermione Weasley's new house for dinner. They lived fairly close to the Potter home, and Harry thought he'd just walk over. It was a lovely evening, and it hadn't rained in days, so the air was crisp, and the light April breeze felt good in his hair.

He'd worn his glasses again, liking the anonymity they gave him. It had always been Cho's preference for him to wear his contacts all the time when he wasn't playing sport. Harry reckoned that now since he wouldn't be playing anything at all, he could forgo the bloody contacts and just be Harry Potter, bespectacled git, non-sports hero.

The Weasley home looked homey and inviting – it was a two-level country home, blending in with much of the other dwellings in the neighborhood. Harry spotted fresh flower beds that had been dug up and replanted and remembered Ron complaining via his text message that his wife had made him do the 'bloody gardening' one Sunday morning.

Ron had found another job, by their home, helping young kids that had, for one reason or another, lost the control of their legs or feet. Some, like Harry, had had a bad break knock them out of commission. Some of the others had lost the use of their limbs in more severe ways. Ron told Harry it was challenging working with kids, for the first time and they were often harder to deal with emotionally than adults. But Harry could tell his friend was already finding the work very satisfying.

He knocked on the door and could hear soft music coming through the window. A moment later, the door opened, and Harry found himself staring at a smiling Hermione Weasley. She was shorter than Harry or Ron and had long, bushy brown hair. From the few times he'd met her before, Harry knew that she was also a force to be reckoned with when she wanted to be. Hermione had a mind like a steel trap.

"Harry! So good of you to come! You're our first official non-family member to visit!"

She hugged him, and Harry was surprised but hugged her back. He didn't know Hermione as well as he knew Ron, but he knew the two were very close, and she probably felt like she knew Harry already just from talking to her husband. Ron appeared in the doorway behind them, shaking his head.

"Ease up, Hermione, give the bloke a chance to actually enter our home before you squeeze him to death."

Hermione laughed and pulled back. "Sorry, Harry. I'm just happy to see you. I'm so glad you and Ron have remained good friends. He needs more of those and fewer brothers around to torture us."

Harry looked at Ron, wondering what she was talking about. Ron smirked at Harry. "You just missed Fred and George. They were taking the piss out of me, and Hermione got a bit shirty."

Hermione made a hrumpf noise to herself as Harry entered their house. It still looked as though they were unpacking a bit, but the room was looking like a comfortable place to hang out in. There was a fireplace and comfy looking sofas and chairs facing this way and that. More flowers hung from the ceiling in different types of pots, and picture frames littered almost every surface. Tons of books lined the back walls. In fact, it was more books than Harry had ever seen in his life, even in a book store. He stood gaping at them for a moment, and Ron noticed his expression.

"Yeah, you should have seen me lugging those out of storage, mate. Almost broke my bloody back."

"Oh, pooh, Ron. You needed the exercise anyway. Come, Harry, we're eating in the kitchen since our dining room chairs are still forthcoming."

She led them through what Harry could only guess was the aforementioned dining room (long oak table, no chairs, papers, and boxes still piled high on it) into a bright, airy kitchen. There was a desk set up in the corner with a home computer on top of it. Across from it was a small table for eating, already set. The kitchen smelled amazing.

Hermione offered him a glass of wine, and Harry took it happily. Ron leaned against the side counter with his own drink as his wife started checking the various pots and pans on the hob.

"You just missed Ginny too, although you're lucky there, she was in a right foul mood."

"Oh?"

"She had a job interview, and I think they brought up her previous post and, er, well, Ginny sort of let them have it."

Harry smirked as he took a drink. He wasn't precisely certain he wanted to meet Ron's sister all that much; she sounded like a handful with a bad temper. Every story Ron had told him about her seemed to have her getting upset one way or another about something. Harry supposed that some women just enjoyed the drama.

"You would have let them have it too, Ron, if someone had asked you what they asked her," Hermione said, pulling something out of the oven.

Ron nodded at her. "You're right, of course. Us Weasleys always hit first and think second. Ginny's got it worse than all of us combined. Of course, what with that git, Dean Thomas still talking about her…"

Harry tuned out his friend as he looked at the pictures that were tacked up on the wall behind him. He saw a lot of Ron and Hermione together in what could only be America. He saw a few other red-headed people that could only be more members of Ron's family. He saw an older photo of all of the Weasleys together – apparently from many years ago as everyone looked very young. He saw what had to be the famous Ginny Weasley herself, looking as though she was about 12 years old. She had a toothy grin and a mischievous glint in her eye, from what Harry could tell. Her hair was the same shade as Ron's and cut short. She didn't look like a little spitfire, but then what did Harry know? He was sure 12-year-old girls grew into all sorts of different types of women.

"We have roasted lamb tonight. I hope that's all right, Harry? I came across an interesting recipe while in the States and couldn't wait to try it." Hermione's voice interrupted his thoughts, and he turned his attention back to his friends.

"Sure, I can try anything," Harry said, joining his friends by the table.

"Oi, now we're in for it!" Ron said, rolling his eyes. Hermione tsked at him and shook her head.

"Don't listen to him, Harry. He loves my cooking."

Harry laughed as they all sat down. There were also red potatoes and glazed carrots. Ron served them each a large slice of the lamb, and they started eating. Harry realized he liked it quite a bit. They enjoyed a pleasant meal with laughter, as Ron began to tell Harry stories about how strange it had been to live in America, at first. And Hermione entertained them with facts and anecdotes she'd learned about everything under the sun. Harry talked about how hard it had been since announcing his retirement and how the press were still, even now, hounding him. He spoke of not being able to wait to do more work with his Sports Centers for Kids once everything died down. Hermione became especially interested in the legal aspects of the charity he'd created to help money go to the Centers. When Ron's eyes glazed over, Harry knew it was probably time to call it a night.

"This was nice, thank you," Harry said as he got up to leave. "I'll have to have you two over on one of the nights Sirius actually cooks for us. You can swap recipes, Hermione."

"Well, actually, Harry. Ron was mentioning that…"

"Hermione!"

Harry looked at the two of them, suddenly worried he'd done something wrong. "What is it?" He asked.

Hermione blushed slightly but gave her husband a look that clearly said 'shut-it.' "Well, he mentioned that you want to start dating again, and I do have this friend…"

Harry chuckled as Ron blushed as well. He looked askance at his wife. "Blimey, Hermione, you said you weren't going to mention it tonight."

"It's okay," Harry said, understanding. "What's her name and how long have you known her?"

Hermione beamed at him as they walked to the door. "Her name is Romilda Vane, and she worked at my old office. So I knew her from before, but we met up for coffee recently, and she mentioned how it's hard to find nice blokes, so I thought of you."

Harry made a face. "You didn't actually tell her I'm a nice bloke, did you? Because that's sort of the kiss of death for a man."

"No! I just said Ron had a friend who was recently single and wanted to meet new people. She knows absolutely nothing about how nice and polite you really are, promise. You could be a wild bad boy for all she knows!"

"Knowing Romilda, she'd probably like that." Harry heard Ron mutter under his breath and raised his eyebrow at his friend.

"Don't listen to him, Harry. Romilda is very nice. And clever. And I suppose she is quite pretty."

Harry shook his head at her. "I'm not picky, really. As long as she's got two eyes, a nose, and corresponding lady bits, I'm usually okay."

"I noticed you left out the mouth part," Ron said, snickering as Hermione hit him in the gut with her elbow.

"One of those is nice too," Harry said, laughing.

"Okay, how about Saturday night we meet up at that pub you were telling Ron about, The Dragon's Wake?" Hermione asked as Harry stepped out into the night. He turned and smiled at her.

"That's sacred ground for me, Hermione. You want me to feel comfortable, is that it?"

"Well, it does have its advantages. I know how nervous blokes get. If you were in a place you knew, you wouldn't sweat the small stuff."

Harry laughed. "All right then. I'll meet her. At least I can see Hagrid and know I'll be eating great food."

They made plans to call each other and hash out the details, and Harry was on his way back home. He decided to cut across the open field area behind their neighborhood. It was one of the last genuinely empty fields around them, and he hoped no one would ever buy it and build a petrol station or something equally loathsome on it.

He was half-way across when he heard strange noises up ahead of him and frowned, hurrying his feet to see what was wrong. It sounded like someone was getting the hell kicked out of them. When he came upon the actual scene, he was a bit flabbergasted. In the middle of a small clearing was a woman, kicking footballs up against a portable goal's nest. She was kicking with all of her might too, Harry noticed. She had a dark, black cap pulled down as low as it could go and was dressed in an old football uniform that looked two sizes too big for her.

Harry couldn't help but watch in fascination as she moved the ball back and forth up the small section she'd cleared off and then kick it in between the goalposts. She was petite and fast, and she knew what she was doing. He was about to announce his presence, since he felt somewhat menacing standing in the tall weeds, just gawking at her when she stopped suddenly and swore out loud. He watched as she gulped down air as she'd apparently been running back and forth for a while. Her shoulders eventually turned inwards, and Harry felt dismayed to realize she was crying.

Before Harry could even react, she was done, and he had to admire the way she held her head up higher and started walking toward the goal, picking up the other footballs as she walked. He waited a moment and then backed away, feeling as though he had just intruded onto a very private moment.

When he finally got back home, he was still puzzling over what he'd witnessed. Remus and Tonks were sitting together on the large settee in the sitting room – he with most likely school papers in front of him and Dora with one of her always present murder mysteries or detective stories she loved to read. A hobby she shared with Harry quite happily.

"Wotcher, Harry!" Dora called from the sofa as she stretched out, and he waved at them. He came into the sitting room and sat down in the chair across from them.

"All right, Harry?" Remus asked, noticing his mood immediately. Harry nodded.

"I'm okay. Just saw something strange in the old field between here and Ron's new place."

"Ooh!" said Dora getting excited. "Was it aliens? I bet it was aliens! Or was it a couple of kids having it off, and you thought you'd take some notes?"

Harry rolled his eyes at her. "No, it was just a girl, kicking footballs and running back and forth as though possessed."

Dora looked disappointed and looked up at Remus. "He never sees anything cool."

Remus tsked as he looked down at her and glanced back up at Harry. "Was she any good?"

"She was brilliant, actually. But…she got really emotional and just started crying. I sort of just turned around and came back the long way. I didn't want her to think I'd been spying on her or anything."

"But you had been!" Sirius said, coming into the room. He pushed Dora's feet out of the way and sat down on the settee.

"Well, yeah, but not intentionally," Harry said, frowning at his godfather. "I mean, at first I thought someone was getting beat up or something, and then when I saw what it was I was just…too gobsmacked to say anything. And then I felt weird for standing there."

Sirius smirked at him. "Was she fit?"

"Sirius!" Harry exclaimed, feeling annoyed. "Not the point of this story!"

Sirius laughed and looked at Remus and Dora. "She was fit."

Harry stood up, feeling exasperated. "There's some mad girl kicking the stitching out of footballs out there in the middle of the night, and all you can wonder about is if I fancied her?"

Sirius sobered and then raised his hands at Harry, indicating he should calm down. "I'm sorry, Harry. You're right. Not the point of the story. Er, what was the point of the story again?"

Remus cleared his throat and gave Sirius a pointed look. "I think Harry was concerned about her…welfare. Do you think you should have stayed and made sure she was all right?"

Harry shrugged. "She was all right, that's the point. She cried for 2.5 seconds and then acted like nothing was wrong and started picking up her gear. It was strange."

"Perhaps she just needed to let off some steam," Dora offered. "Sometimes us gals get fed up with a lot of things. Of course, I am not sure I'd be kicking footballs in the dead of night in the middle of some dodgy field, but then again…I read too many detective stories for my own good."

Harry laughed, thinking she had a point. It wasn't any of his business, anyway. He started to head upstairs, suddenly feeling dead tired. It must have been all the wine he'd had at dinner. He said his goodnights, and before he could reach the staircase, Dora called his name.

"Oi! Potter! I forgot to give you this. New Ian Rankin finally. Catch!"

Harry turned as a book came sailing through the air at him. He caught it nimbly with his fingers and smiled at her. "Thanks, Tonks. You know I've wanted to get this one since last year."

"I know, and don't call me Tonks. Or I'll never lend you another book again."

Harry smirked and headed upstairs, thinking he might read a few chapters before turning in for the night. There was always energy enough for a new mystery to be started.

o-o-o-o-o-o