A/N: Right. Let's see. Where did we leave off? Well, Ginny's scribbling on in her diary, Harry is yet to be heard from, the grown-ups are infuriatingly secretive and there's something fishy going on between Ron and Hermione…

Without further ado, I hereby present to you… Chapter Seven. *bows majestically*

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13 July

Oh, thank goodness. We're out of the disgusting house. And I, for one, am never looking (or rather, smelling) back. It was pretty funny, 'cause today nobody had any problem getting ready to leave in time. Considering how our family generally runs about an hour and a half behind schedule, this really says something about the state of disgustingness (I know that's not a word, but I'm terrible with synonyms, so you'll have to make do with it) that the house was in.

Anyway, right now we're in a park of some sort, taking a rest. We've been walking for a couple of hours, and the sun is still riding pretty low in the sky.

It's really beautiful in here; there are hundreds of wildflowers growing on the slopes and a little stream running through the whole park. It feels like we've stepped straight into the pages of a storybook. Dad said we'll be reaching the Portkey soon, but I hope it's not too soon, 'cause I rather like it in here. It's so... peaceful. And you don't get a lot of that nowadays.

Well, well. So much for my moments of inner peace. Dad just got up and announced that we have to start moving again. He sounds dead authoritative. I think he sees himself as some kind of military leader. "Time for the troops to kick back into action."

Bye for now.

*   *   *

Hahaha!!!

I just have to write a quick not about the Portkey, because it's just too, too funny. You'll never guess what it is. That's right. Never. All your guesses will be wrong.

That is, unless your guess is... an item of hot pink men's underwear!!!

Oh dear lord. I'm laughing so hard my stomach is cramping up. Mum's looking dead annoyed, Lupin is looking like he's trying hard not to laugh and Charlie is looking immensely pleased with himself. It's not too difficult to figure out who's behind this. Honestly. Some people never grow up.

And thank heavens for that. I needed a good laugh.

*  *  *

Okay. We're here. And... Well... I'm surprised. I must say I'm really, really surprised. I hadn't expected it. And yet... I had. To a certain extent.

Oh, I don't even know where to start, so I'll just start at the beginning and be done with it.

We arrived here a couple of hours ago. "Where's 'here'?" you might wonder. Well, I'm not really sure where I am, strictly geographically. But wherever it is, it's really beautiful. It's got the same fairytale feel to it that the park had. The garden is absolutely gorgeous; blazing with colour and full of berry-bushes and cherry-trees; and the house is all light and airy – it feels just like one of those beach houses you can see in pictures from the 20's. Although I don't think there's a beach nearby, but I'm not really sure. We haven't been allowed to leave the house and its surroundings yet.

Anyway, when we'd arrived, and after we'd "oooh"-ed and "aaah"-ed for a bit over the beauty of the garden (I swear, Hermione was practically swooning), we were ushered inside by Dad and Lupin, and guess who was waiting for us there?

Tonks!

I was so incredibly happy to see her; I just ran up and threw my arms around her, hugging her for a long time. And I think she was happy to see me too. She said something along the lines of, "A fellow female!" and for some reason that made me giggle hysterically.

We all just stood around for a while, while Tonks said hello to everyone. It was pretty funny, 'cause when she got to Einar, she blushed crimson and started stuttering a lot. I swear, I've never seen her like that before. It's rather comforting to know that even someone as self-confident as Tonks can get tongue-tied.

When she'd greeted everyone, Tonks started telling us about her time in the house. It was evident that she'd had quite a lot of contact with the other members of the Order, so for me, Ron and Hermione – who know virtually nothing about what's going on – it was pretty difficult to keep up. But from what I could gather, she's been in the house a couple of weeks, but only stayed every other night (I have no idea what she's been doing on the nights she hasn't been here), and on the night of the attack in Ottery St Catchpole, she'd been in London, meeting with – get this – Snape and Dumbledore. But before I had a chance to ask what the meeting was about, Mum realised that this information was inappropriate for us "youngsters" (yes, she actually called us that; I wanted to throw something at her) to hear, and demanded that the information meeting should be held in another room.

So the grown-ups all started to leave, but just as he was about to exit the room, Dad said, "So, Tonks, how's our special guest?"

I could almost hear Ron and Hermione prick up their ears along with me. Special guest? There was a special guest?

Tonks gave a furtive smile. "Oh, he's just fine. Asleep at the moment, though."

I looked from Dad to Tonks, hardly daring to breathe. It couldn't be… could it?

Dad glanced at me, his eyes almost glittering. "I'm sure the children would like to meet him once he wakes up. They must have some catching up to do."

And then he left the room along with Tonks. I barely had time to feel offended by the fact that Dad had referred to us as children, before I turned to Ron and Hermione, my mouth wide open. They looked as shocked as I felt.

"It's Harry!" Ron hissed. "He's here!"

"We can't be sure of it, Ron," Hermione said, looking as if she herself was very sure, but – like me – hardly dared believe it.

"Oh, come on," Ron said. "Who else would it be?"

Hermione shrugged, and for a minute or two the three of us stood there stupidly, just staring at each other. I was just about to suggest we get ourselves a bite to eat (since I, for one, was starving) when Ron suddenly got a very determined look on his face.

"Well, there's only one way to find out, isn't there?"

And with those words he charged out of the room and started ascending the stairs, with me and Hermione following closely behind. On the second floor we were met by a long row of doors and for a moment we hesitated, not sure where to start, but Hermione (ever logical) pointed out that only two of the doors were actually shut, and a person who was asleep during the day would most likely be situated behind a closed door, so we walked up to the first one. But we found that it was locked. For once, Ron was quicker than Hermione. He whipped out his wand and then performed an unlocking charm on the door.

He slowly pushed it open, and it squeaked horribly, causing us all to grimace. Behind the door was nothing of interest. In fact, it was almost empty, apart from a big, blue box that stood all alone in the middle of the room. We quickly left the room (and clever as she is, Hermione remembered to lock it again).

As we walked up to the second closed door, Ron held his wand "Alohomora"-ready, but as he reached for the handle to check whether or not it was locked, it swung open, causing Hermione to scream.

Well, alright. Me too.

But I quickly gathered myself, 'cause the sight of a ruffled-haired Harry wearing nothing but boxer shorts and a washed-out t-shirt forced me to focus my full concentration on hindering one of those annoying, tell-tale blushes from creeping up my cheeks.

"I knew it!" Ron exclaimed and put away his wand before giving Harry one of those male-friends-greeting-each-other-in-a-manly-fashion types of slaps on the arm. "Good to see you, mate!"

"Yes, it really is wonderful!" Hermione chimed in. "We thought it must be you, when Arthur said…"

"Well, I did anyway," Ron interrupted her. "Hermione wasn't really sure."

Hermione simply scowled at him, before turning back to Harry. "It really is good to see you, Harry."

Until now, Harry hadn't said a thing. He'd merely stood there, looking very much like someone who was in between "awake" and "lost in the land of dreams". But now realization seemed to dawn on him, and he said, "So you're finally here." (At least I think that's what he said. You can't expect me to remember every word of every sentence of every conversation, now can you?)

Then there were hugs all around. Well, not all around, really. Hermione hugged him, and Ron sort of patted him on the back, and I… Well, I…

Argh, it's embarrassing.

I said something like, "Hello, Harry", or "Hi, Harry", or "Good to see you, Harry" (again – my memory is limited), and then I sort of leaned over, about to hug him, and he sort of opened his arms, preparing to hug me, and then at the last minute, I stopped and drew back, and the hug turned into him sort of patting me on the arm, and my face burned and the silence was deafening and I could feel Hermione staring at us and I don't think I've ever loved my brother as much as I did when he said, "So, do you feel like lunch? 'Cause I'm famished," as if I hadn't just made a complete arse of myself in front of them all.

Well, what can I say?

I panicked. I didn't feel like hugging Harry. Not there. Not like that. Not in front of Ron and Hermione. Not with him in little but his underwear. It would've been too awkward.

Good-awkward, but still.

Whatever. I'm not going to tangle myself up in my own words by writing any further about this incident.

Once we'd established that everyone was happy to see everyone else, Harry retreated to his room to get dressed (for which I was very grateful – I didn't know where to look), then we all went downstairs to have some lunch. The grown-ups weren't done with their meeting yet, so we sat at the table, just catching up.

Harry didn't have a lot to tell us. He'd arrived at the house a few weeks ago, and since then he'd simply stayed put. Apparently he'd been bored out of his mind most of the time. He wasn't allowed to go any further than the fence surrounding the garden, and trips like that were only allowed before nine a.m. or after seven p.m. (I have no idea why... But grown-ups love irrational rules like that). On the nights when Tonks was in the house, they would play cards or magical board games, but there was still enough time when he was all alone to make his stay in the house – so far – close to unbearable.

So he seemed really pleased that we were there. He said that Tonks had mentioned it a number of times, but never specified when we would be arriving.

We had a quick lunch, and then the grown-ups were done with their meeting. Mum was thrilled to see that Harry was safe and sound, and hugged him 'til he was blue in the face. Everyone else was happy to see him, too, and he seemed happy to see them. He immediately started a Quidditch conversation with Charlie; one which Ron soon joined in on.

There was one strange thing about this little reunion, though. When Harry was introduced to Einar, his face went all grim. Einar shook his hand and sounded really pleasant and all, but Harry just stared at him, looking dead weird. I don't know what it was. Maybe he's just learned to be suspicious of strangers. I know I would be in his situation.

Mum gave us a bunch of restrictions. Like Harry, we're not allowed past the fence. And we have the same curfew that he has – 7 p.m. ('cause everything wrong and wicked in this world takes place after 7 p.m. – doh!)

Anyway, when all the greetings and lectures were done, the four of us (that being me, Hermione, Ron and Harry) sat down to talk some more, and it was really nice, 'til Ron whipped out his portable Quidditch game that Fred and George gave him a couple of weeks ago. Harry fell instantly in love with it, and they immediately started playing. Hermione looked at me and rolled her eyes, and without a word we rose from our seats and left the room.

Tonks showed us the room that Hermione and I will be sharing. It's, well... cute. Very cute. Too bloody cute for its own good, in fact. I mean, I don't mind flowered wallpaper – it can be quite pretty – just as long as it's not matched with pink curtains and a mat with an embroidered meadow on it. Not to mention the bedspreads that depict some heart-warming story about a bunny and a kitten that are apparently best friends.

Well, sickeningly sweet or not, it's where I'll be sleeping for the nearest future, so I'll just have to deal with it.

Ow. Ow-ow-bloody-ow. I've been sitting here writing for a good hour or so, and my arm feels like it wants to curl up and die or something. I should probably stop now; go see what the others are up to (Hermione left quite a while ago).

I'll check back later.

*   *   *

So... tired...

Must... sleep...

Will... write... tomorrow...

Zzzzzzzzz.

~*~

A/N: Well, there it was, chapter seven, and the plot thickens… or not. I won't have access to a computer in the next week or so, so chapter eight may take a while. Which is no big difference from the other chapters, really :) Thanks again to those who take time to read and review. I really appreciate it and it helps me a lot with my writing.