So ... what happened was that the story started calling to me. (So did my beta) And it (they) said "But what happens next? Kezza, you must write MORE! There is more to this story!"
And then it bit me. And I had story jumping out at me and saying "Write me! Write me!"
So I did.
My muse has plans for at least one more chapter and she may bless us with two more.
This chapter begins immediately after the end of the last one (where Harry races out fo the kitchen) but before the 'epiloguey' part about getting on the train.
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Falling For Her | ||||||
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Category: Pre-OotP, Twin Travel Challenge (2008-3) Characters:None Genres: Drama, Fluff, General Warnings: None Rating: PG-13 Reviews: 144 Summary: When his children turn up from the future Harry doesn't know what to think but a pretty redhead or two soon helps him figure it out. ****CHAPTER THREE IS HERE!**** Hitcount: Story Total: 37051; Chapter Total: 9807 Author's Notes: |
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When Harry arrived at the pond he could see Ginny sitting on the tiny dock that was jutting out over the water. Harry wondered idly exactly what the pier was for, as he had never seen any boats and the pond hardly seemed big enough to sail on, but then he knew practically nothing about sailing. The only time he had been in a boat was to get to the hut on the sea and while crossing to Hogwarts before his first year. Ginny had removed her shoes and was gently splashing her feet in the water. The sun was casting its last rays across the landscape, lighting up her hair. Harry watched silently from the bank as Ginny kicked one foot out, sending a shower of water in the air as she leaned back on her hands, tipping her face to the sky. Harry didn’t know how long he had been standing there watching her when he suddenly noticed that she was watching him back. Harry blushed and looked down at his feet briefly before looking back up at her and realising she had turned away and was staring across the water. Harry padded hesitantly down to the dock and across to where Ginny was sitting. He hovered next to her for a moment before sitting cross legged next to her and staring out over the pond. “If you take your shoes off, you can paddle in the water,” Ginny suddenly said. Harry started and looked at her. She was still staring across the water but he could see a faint pink blush staining her cheeks. “Oh …” Harry said very sophisticatedly. “Unless your feet smell,” she murmured. “My feet don’t smell,” Harry protested. Ginny turned to look at him then. “Go on then,” she was daring him. “All right,” Harry smirked, tugging at the laces on his trainers. Harry sincerely hoped his feet did not smell. He removed his shoes, pulled off his socks and tucked them carefully in his shoes before rolling up the ends of his jeans and swinging his feet into the water. The two sat there in not quite easy silence, gently splashing in the water and carefully avoiding any sort of conversation. Suddenly Ginny stirred, splashing violently as she sat straight upright. “D’you feel like …” she trailed off just as suddenly as she had begun to speak. “Like what, Ginny?” “Like … you don’t have a choice anymore?” “Do you?” “Well, it’s a bit different for me,” Ginny said quietly. She looked back out over the water. “How is it different?” Harry pulled his feet out of the water and turned to face her. His feet were dripping wet and his toes made little prints on the dock. Ginny turned to look at him solemnly. “Ever since I was a little girl,” she began, “I’ve known who you were. Everybody did. Sometimes … sometimes people even saw you. Well … there were rumours anyway. “ “Yeah, I know,” mused Harry. “Well, at least I do now, anyway. These people used to come up to me and tip their hat or something and then if I tried to get another look at them, they’d just be … gone. Vanished.” He looked at Ginny. “I wanted to see you,” Ginny said with a trace of embarrassment. “D’you remember that day … when you went to Hogwarts?” “The day I first went to Hogwarts?” Harry asked. He remembered it very clearly indeed. “Of course! It was just … you’ve seen the castle, lit up like that and there was food, so much food and I’d never seen such food in all my life!” “Oh,” said Ginny quietly. Harry looked at her carefully. Her face was turned away and she was tracing the outline of somebody’s initials carved into the dock. She took a deep breath. “That was the first time I saw you.” She turned to look at him. Even though the setting sun lit up her features her face still looked shadowed. “You didn’t want to stay behind,” Harry said. “You never do.” There was a long silence as the sun began to slip lower on the horizon. “I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me,” Ginny said as she gazed out over the pond. “When?” “All the time,” Ginny snorted. “I wanted to meet you so badly, like all those other witches and wizards in the rumour column. I tried to convince mum to let me on the train so I could see you.” “But I’m not a zoo exhibit,” Harry smirked. “You heard that?” Ginny looked horrified. “I was watching you,” Harry confessed. “I watched you chase the train down the platform.” “Now I want the ground to open up and swallow me again,” Ginny groaned and hid her face in her hands. “You saw that?” “Yeah,” Harry nodded. “I am so mortified,” Ginny whispered from behind her fingers. Harry swallowed and stretched out one hand to pull her hands away from her face. She didn’t look up. “I was thinking how lucky your brothers were,” he said softly. “Lucky to have someone who cared about them so much that she didn’t want them to leave. I think I wished, just a little bit, that you were waving to me too.” “I was,” Ginny confessed. She turned slightly, looking at where one of her hands still lay in Harry’s. She started to pull away. Harry closed his hand around hers. Neither one of them moved. Harry watched her hand, clasped in his own as she slowly curled her fingers around his. Harry looked up at her but she was staring down at their hands. He turned her hand over and began to trace lines between the freckles on the back of it with his thumb. He watched, fascinated, as her thumb curled around his palm and began to stroke the back of his hand. “That was the only time I thought I had no one to wave me off to school,” Harry said eventually. “Ever since then I’ve had a family to wave me off just like everyone else.” Ginny said nothing but her gaze never left their hands. Harry stilled his thumb and tugged on her hand until she looked up at him. “And,” Harry said, “I’ve always had a family to come home to as well.” Ginny turned away and looked out over the water and pulled her hand from his grasp. Harry dropped his own hand to his knee. “Ginny?” “It’s good that you feel like we’re family,” she said in a strained voice. She swung her face back to him. “Everybody needs a family. I’m glad that if you couldn’t have your own … you found ours.” “That’s just it, Ginny,” Harry said earnestly. “If I had a choice-” “Don’t say it, Harry,” Ginny’s voice was warning. “But if I had a choice,” pressed Harry, “it would be here.” “Really?” said Ginny sarcastically as she scrambled to her feet. “I guess I’m the consolation prize then; one sure-fire way to make yourself really part of the family, since I’m the only girl.” She whirled around and began stalking off along the dock back to the shore. “Ginny, wait,” Harry called as he jumped up. “Just, save it, Potter,” Ginny spat, turning as she reached the soft bank. Harry hurried after her and grabbed her arm. Ginny shook him off angrily. “Let me-” “Save it,” Ginny snarled. Harry grabbed at her hand, just catching it before she stormed off. He pulled her back to him until they were standing inches apart like they had been in the corridor, watching the scene in the kitchen. “I saw a woman tonight who loved her husband so deeply it was apparent to everybody,” he said quietly. He lifted one hand and tilted her chin up. She blinked once and then her gaze settled on his. “If I had a choice,” Ginny whispered, “it … it’s always been you, Harry.” “I know,” Harry said softly. “Is it just because you’ve seen it, though?” Ginny asked him seriously. “No,” Harry admitted. “It’s because I could feel it. She loved him, but I could tell she loved me, too. I haven’t ever felt that before.” “He told me that,” Ginny whispered. “I didn’t know what he meant, but I think I do now. He said not to hide it anymore, that if I kept hiding it, you would never know.” “But I know now,” said Harry. “I know how she feels. How you feel.” Ginny stared up at him. “You do?” she asked. “Is this real then, just because we’ve seen it?” “Felt it,” said Harry. “I felt it and I’m … I’m just not interested in a future with anyone else. Why can’t it be real?” “Because it wasn’t real this morning,” said Ginny urgently. “But it was real this evening, you saw them.” “But that wasn’t us!” cried Ginny. “They’re us and we’re them,” said Harry, “and he really loves her.” He took a step closer to her. His leg brushed against hers and he felt her tremble. “Yeah, he does,” whispered Ginny breathlessly. She closed her eyes and Harry reached up his other hand, cupped her cheek and lowered his lips to hers. He had absolutely no idea what he was doing but she was warm and soft and her hand clutched at his shirt as if she needed to hold herself up. Harry slid his hand around to tangle in her hair and when his lips touched hers it was like nothing he had ever felt before. His insides tingled and he felt just a little bit dizzy. He pulled away, his hand still resting in her hair, and searched her face. Her eyes fluttered open and she gazed at him with complete trust and he knew, in that moment, that he had been given access to the piece of her heart that she kept locked away and protected, the piece he had never fully seen before; the piece that had always belonged to him. He could see now the same woman he’d seen that evening in the Burrow’s kitchen that evening. This is what he’d felt from her and now he knew what he could possibly see in Ginny Weasley. “I do have a choice,” whispered Harry, “and I choose you.” This time it was Ginny who reached up to press her lips to his and Harry pulled her to him and the sun had almost set by the time they collected their shoes and headed back to the house. ***************** Harry stumbled downstairs to breakfast the next morning and slumped into a chair. Mrs Weasley beamed at him and plunked a full plate of bacon, eggs and sausages in front of him before suddenly enveloping him in a hug. She didn’t say a word, just smiled at him brightly and patted his cheek before going back to her stove. Harry stared at the heaped plate. “Um, thanks, Mrs Weasley,” he said, “but I don’t think I can eat all of this.” “I can,” said Ron, reaching over to spear a sausage. “Ronald Weasley!” warned his mother and Ron grinned at Harry before stuffing the sausage into his mouth. Harry looked around at the rest of the kitchen’s occupants. Bill was taking his plate to the sink and Charlie was reading the Daily Prophet. Fred and George were talking in low tones on the other side of the table and Harry was relieved to find that no one was looking at him at all; except Ron. “Are you going to eat that, mate?” he asked. “Ronald!” “So Harry,” began Fred. Harry’s heart sank. “You look a little peaky,” George added. “Like you didn’t get much sleep,” Charlie interjected. Harry started; he hadn’t seen the older wizard lay down the paper. The three of them were watching him with expressions of utmost glee. Harry took the opportunity to shove a forkful of eggs into his mouth so he didn’t have to answer them. “Leave him alone,” Bill said softly. He was smiling. Harry shot a grateful look in his direction. “What?” asked Fred serenely. “We haven’t done anything,” added George, his face a picture of innocence. “We’re just concerned for his health,” added Charlie. “He looks perfectly normal,” Bill said, walking past on his way back to the living room and ruffling Harry’s already messy hair. “Everyone looks like that when they are lovestruck.” Harry nearly choked on his toast. Hermione entered the kitchen and sidled into a seat as far away from Ron as she could possibly get and still be in the kitchen. “Good morning, Hermione!” sang George. “How are you and your squishy bits this fine day?” inquired Fred. Ron’s face turned an interesting shade of purple and Hermione stared wildly around before snatching a box of cereal and pretending to be immersed in the writing on the back of the packaging. “Your father says we’re going back to Grimmauld Place tomorrow,” Mrs Weasley interrupted them. “I suggest you make the most of the last day here.” She hung her apron on a peg near the back door and grasped the handle of her egg-collecting basket bestowing Fred and George with a significant look as she turned to walk out the door. “Well chaps, I say we play Quidditch today!” announced Fred. “Can’t,” said Ron mournfully. “Bill’s gone off on a date. We’re uneven, there’s only five of us.” “Ask Ginny.” Hermione’s annoyed voice came from behind the box of cereal. “But … but … she’s … a … a girl.” Ron screwed up his nose. “Oh, well spotted,” said Hermione sarcastically putting the cereal box down and glaring at Ron. “Who’s a girl?” asked Ginny as she sailed in, practically skipping to the table. “Ah, Gin-Gin is in a very good mood,” smirked Fred. “Is that a crime?” asked Ginny. “No,” said Fred. “Although I do wonder what-” “-or who-” “-has put such a smile on your face, wee little sister,” finished Fred. Ginny blushed slightly and shifted a bit restlessly before slipping into the seat across from Harry. She smiled tentatively at him and as he returned her smile he knew there was a matching flush on his own cheeks. Harry wasn’t exactly sure how he should act. He’d seen Mr and Mrs Weasley kiss each other good morning but he and Ginny weren’t exactly married so maybe they didn’t need to do that. He realised belatedly that he had failed to stand and pull out a chair for her and wondered if he should have. It was a bit late now, he pondered morosely as he watched Ginny pour herself a glass of pumpkin juice. He looked up at her just as she took a sip and she looked right back at him, just like she had done last night when he had given her older self a drink. He felt like he wanted to touch her but he didn’t dare. He settled for staring at her instead, his breakfast forgotten. “We could take turns,” Fred was saying. “I’m willing to sit out first.” “I told you,” Hermione said loudly, irritably. “Just ask Ginny.” Fred looked at her incredulously. “Ron already told you, Hermione,” George explained in a patient, long-suffering tone, “Ginny is a girl.” “Yeah,” chimed in Ron. “She can barely even fly.” Harry was watching Ginny and he noticed her features darken and her eyes flash as she watched her brothers. “Oh, really?” Hermione asked him acidly. “Know that for a fact, do you?” Ron nodded briefly, set his jaws and crossed his arms defiantly across his chest. “I think I liked squishy Hermione better,” Fred murmured to George. “It’s a pity I probably won’t get to know her.” George paled a little but nodded along with Fred. “Planning to play a little Quidditch, were you?” Ginny suddenly asked in an icy-cold tone, one that cut through the frosty air between Ron and Hermione like a knife. She cast a dark look at Harry before standing up. “Never you mind,” muttered Ron. “It’s boy’s stuff.” “We were just discussing how Bill’s gone out so there are only five of us,” Charlie said matter-of-factly. “Six of you, if you count Ginny,” maintained Hermione stubbornly. “Well, I’m not having her on my team!” exclaimed Ron. The twins shook their head vigorously. “Nor us,” they said in unison. “That’s just …” Ginny finished with an angry growl and stomped to the back door, flinging it open. “You are all just a bunch of sexist, arrogant toerags.” She slammed the door behind her as she stalked into the garden. There was an echoing silence in the kitchen after she left. “She can be on my team,” said Harry quietly, looking at Charlie. The older wizard lowered his paper and nodded. Harry pushed back his chair and throwing a baleful look at Ron and the twins, slipped out the back door in search of Ginny. He found her sitting on a low wall at the edge of the garden, staring at the grass. Harry stood and watched her for a moment. She had a surly look on her face and even the garden gnomes seemed to know to give her a wide berth. “I would like to play Quidditch, you know,” she said. “The Holyhead Harpies are an all-female team.” “I know,” said Harry, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. “Half the Gryffindor Quidditch team are girls.” “They are.” “And I would have tried out for the team if …” “Really?” “There wasn’t any Quidditch last year,” sighed Ginny, “and the year before that there were no openings.” “We need a Keeper this year,” Harry offered, sitting down next to her. “I’m a bit small to be a Keeper,” Ginny screwed up her nose. “Well …” Harry trailed off. He didn’t know what to say. “Maybe I can be on the team next year,” Ginny mused. “There will be two Chaser spots open.” She looked up at Harry, a hopeful expression on her face. “Two Beater spots as well,” commented Harry. Ginny snorted. “I think I would like to be a Quidditch player,” Ginny said softly, “a Chaser.” “I wonder … if that’s what I did — do,” Ginny mumbled, “before I … had — have kids.” “You mean like … for a career?” “Yeah,” Ginny nodded. “I wonder what I do?” “I’m an Auror …” Harry murmured. He tilted his head to the side and wondered when he had decided to become an Auror. Ginny gasped suddenly. Harry looked at her. Her eyes were shining and she was almost bouncing with excitement. “You know what this means, don’t you Harry?” “Erm …” “Oh, come on!” Ginny leapt to her feet and seized his hand. “We need to talk to Hermione!” She tore back across the garden and flew up the back steps. Harry skidded to a halt behind her as she threw open the door to the kitchen and bounded inside. “I wonder if he calls you Squishy?” Fred was saying. Both Ron and Hermione were red in the face and looked ready to strangle Fred with their bare hands. “Fred, do be careful,” said George cheerfully. “I think perhaps, the way you are going it might be them that kills you.” “That’s not funny, George,” Ron said, his face as white as a sheet. “Well, you lot made it bloody obvious,” Fred grumbled. He looked a little less sure of himself than before and George had sobered somewhat. The two of them stood up. “We’ll go and get out the brooms and the Quaffle,” announced George. “Meet you at the pitch?” he looked directly at Ginny as he said it and Harry noticed Charlie lower his paper slightly and wondered what had been said in their absence. Ginny nodded once and George inclined his head before the twins left the kitchen, raising an eyebrow but not passing comment as they noticed Harry’s hand still entwined with Ginny’s after their flight across the garden. “I’ll … just go help them,” muttered Ron and he too left the kitchen. “Hermione,” Ginny urged, as soon as they were gone, “this means … it means … Harry beats him doesn’t it?” “Well, we can’t know anything for sure,” Hermione said, looking thoughtful. “It does seem very likely, though. At the very least we know he can be beaten.” She looked up her eyes shining. Harry felt distinctly uncomfortable and his hand was starting to sweat where Ginny was still clinging tightly to it. “So you think … maybe … it isn’t really the future?” asked Ginny, letting go of Harry’s hand and shoving both of her hands deep in the pockets of her cut-off shorts. Harry felt like he wanted to grab Ginny’s hand right out of her pocket again and hold onto it forever. “I think it is …” Hermione allowed. “I don’t know how much we are going to change it by what we know now, though. “They said their memories merged back,” Charlie mused. “Maybe that means … that we still go on to do what we did before.” “What if we could prevent things?” Ginny asked softly. “If Fred is … if he is … gone, maybe we can stop it?” “We don’t know how,” Hermione said softly. “We can’t prevent it if we don’t know?” “It’s a war,” said Charlie gruffly, “bound to be a death, probably more than one.” “I don’t think we can use this to deliberately change the future though,” Hermione said. “I don’t know, we might change something accidentally though.” She eyed Harry and Ginny meaningfully. Harry felt his face heat under her gaze. He didn’t know what to do with his hands. “Well, I’m going to go out and play Quidditch,” Charlie said folding the paper. “You two coming or do I have to fend off the three amigos by myself?” “We’re coming,” Ginny said. She looked suddenly nervous as she pulled a hair elastic out of her pocket and began to tie her hair up. Harry watched, fascinated as she twisted the elastic around her hair, her shirt riding up just a little so he could see that her belly had a light sprinkling of freckles on it, too. She finished with the elastic and shook her head experimentally before turning to Harry. “Ready?” Ginny asked. Harry nodded and as she passed him, Harry reached out and slid his hand around hers as he followed her outside. ************ Harry sat on the dock at the pond, his feet in the water and his face turned to catch the dying rays of the sun. He felt like he was waiting for something but he didn’t quite know what it was. Mrs Weasley had shooed them out of the kitchen a few moments earlier when the evening meal had finished. Ron had escaped gratefully to his room to avoid Hermione and the twins who had teased them mercilessly all day; Harry had stayed, wanting to be with Ginny, but he’d been shooed away too. He’d spent all day with her but it still didn’t seem like long enough and Harry didn’t understand himself at all. He hadn’t kissed her again and he didn’t know if he should. He wanted to but wondered if he only thought that because he was supposed to. At least he thought he was supposed to. Harry sighed heavily and turned his face down to watch his feet as he splashed his toes in the water. His eye caught the weathered boards of the dock where Ginny had been sitting the evening before. Initials and words were carved there, some were intricate and perfectly etched and some were haphazard, broad strokes and sharp cuts forming letters and words on the silvery grey wood. Harry stretched out a hand to trace a large, roughly hewn ‘Ginevra Molly Weasley’ that ran almost the width of the dock. A small, intricate ’86 was inscribed under it. He hadn’t noticed it before but the dock was full of carvings. Right above Ginny’s name was a blocky set of letters that spelled ‘RON B. WESLY’ and below it was carved ‘B.W. 4 S.P. 1987’. Harry wondered idly who SP was before letting his eye roam over the rest of the carvings. There in the corner of one board, near a post, was a neat love heart, carved in only the way a girl would carve them; the way he’d seen Parvati draw them on her notes. He got up and padded over to look at what was etched inside. loves H.P. Harry stared at the tiny, carved love heart. It was so small it was a wonder he’d even seen it. ‘You wanted to find it. You were looking for it,’ a voice whispered to him. Harry read it over and over again. He knew who’d put it there, hidden carefully among the other declarations of love and idle scratchings that spoke of lazy summer days by the pond. He could see where Ron had finally learned to spell his name and Fred and George had played a noughts and crosses series the length of one of the boards. “It’s like a Weasley family history,” a voice said quietly from the shore. Harry turned to see Mr Weasley watching him. “This is okay with you?” he asked. Mr Weasley nodded. Harry looked back at the carvings. A crude etching of a dragon stretched across four of the boards, colliding with Percy’s name. Uncle Vernon would have murdered him if he’d even contemplated scratching a dot on the stair supports in his cupboard. Mr Weasley stepped softly onto the dock. Harry had the absurd notion that Ron’s dad was trying not to scare him. Harry watched as Mr Weasley stopped a short distance away, smiling and tracing and etching on the top of one of the posts. “Molly and I bought this place shortly after we were married,” he said. “The dock was already here. I’m not sure why, the pond’s not really big enough to sail on. Maybe it was bigger once?” “Maybe,” Harry said, edging closer, wondering what was carved on the post. “We came down here,” Mr Weasley continued, “Molly and I. It was summer and this place is lovely in summer, don’t you think?” He turned to Harry and peered at him over the top of his glasses. Harry felt rather like he was caught in a spotlight. “I really like being at the Burrow,” he croaked out. Mr Weasley smiled suddenly. “We carved our names,” he said enthusiastically. “Look, right here.” He pulled Harry over to look at the top of the post. The names were obviously carved by two different people; the ‘Arthur’ was straight and blocky, neatly and carefully etched into the wood. Another hand had carved ‘and Molly’ with curls, loops and a smattering of flowers. Underneath was the word ‘Family’ and Harry noticed that swirling lines were carved from that word out to where the Weasley children’s names were carefully etched in the same blocky hand that had written Arthur. “I came out here every time one of my children was born and I put their name here,” Arthur said softly. “As soon as they could write their own name, they would come down and write it for themselves.” Mr Weasley wandered the length of the dock until he was at the very end that jutted into the water. “Bill wanted to put his name at the very end,” he continued. “I remember he kept running backwards to see my name to spell out his middle name. He was four. Good thing I could spell the knife not to cut him or we’d have been in a world of trouble from his mother, I’d wager. This big cross here is from the day Charlie told his mother he was moving to Romania.” Harry peered at the cross Mr Weasley pointed out. It was etched with the date ‘19091990’. A large spider sat next to the cross. “Fred and George were trying to scare Ron,” Mr Weasley said as he noticed Harry’s gaze. The two of them wandered up the dock and back to the shore and Mr Weasley pointed out the carvings to Harry, some so faint they could hardly be seen, all of them chronicling an event in the Weasley family. A Hogwart’s Express wound along one edge, a laughing face and carriage had been added as each child went off to school, a pair of Beater’s bats signalled Fred and George’s inclusion on the Gryffindor Quidditch team and an overly-large Snitch seemed to almost flutter next to a depiction of a pyramid. ‘Percy the Prefect’ was carved in neat letters on the top of one of the posts and ‘loves PC’ had been added in another hand. As they got back to the shore Harry smiled as he noticed Hermione’s initials paired with Ron’s, almost hidden on the very edge of one of the boards. Then he stopped short. A lightning bolt zig-zagged across the very last board. On one side tiny neat letters spelled out ‘1 September 1991’. “Ginny put that there,” Mr Weasley said softly. “She came home that day Ron left. I think it took her most of the afternoon. She wanted it to be perfect. She said to me ‘Daddy, we always put the important stuff on here.’ She thought meeting you was very important.” “I’m not very important,” Harry said quietly. Mr Weasley didn’t say anything. He wandered back to the post where he and Mrs Weasley had carved their names that first day in their new home. Harry shuffled back to him slowly as he watched Mr Weasley sit on the dock and bend over the weathered wood as if inspecting it. Mr Weasley turned suddenly and Harry realised that he had a small penknife in his hand and was dragging it across the wood. He stepped closer to see what he was carving. A fresh new line snaked its way out from the post, slicing its way between Ron and Ginny and coming to a stop just under Ginny’s name. Mr Weasley looked up and handed Harry the penknife. “Normally when I add my children they are too little to carve their own name,” he said softly as Harry slowly took the penknife. “But you are very special.” Harry sank to his knees next to the older man and looked at him questioningly. He felt a little flutter in his chest that he couldn’t identify. It felt a little bit like acceptance … or maybe it was love. “You want …” Harry trailed off, biting his lip and looking at the tiny knife in his hand. “You want me to put my name … there?” Mr Weasley nodded. Harry traced the fresh new line in the wood with his index finger, leaving his finger resting where it stopped beneath Ginny’s name for a moment. Then he reached out and carefully rubbed his fingertips over her name. “Do you not want to, Harry?” Mr Weasley asked gently. Harry looked up. The older man looked worried. “Oh no, I do, I do want to,” Harry exclaimed quickly. “I just … What do you think happened yesterday, Mr Weasley?” Harry didn’t get an answer for several minutes. Mr Weasley looked down at the names of his children, etched into the dock by his own hand and then across the pond and the last setting rays of the sun. “Molly and I had a long talk last night after you all went to bed,” he said eventually. “They were your children, weren’t they? I mean really, not a trick from the twins or some sort of vision; they were really here and they were really yours — and Ginny’s.” “Yeah,” Harry whispered. “We saw them — us — they came to get them.” “I thought so.” Mr Weasley nodded thoughtfully. “I had a hunch.” “Is that why you didn’t come down until after they were gone?” Harry asked curiously. “I had some memories,” Mr Weasley said. “They suddenly appeared as though they weren’t quite mine. These memories … they made me come down here tonight. It was like I knew I had to come here.” “I think I survive, Mr Weasley,” Harry blurted suddenly. “He was tall and he was smiling and he loved her!” Mr Weasley’s eyes twinkled merrily at Harry’s outburst. “He was … you?” “Yeah,” Harry said, blushing. “I was happy.” “You sound surprised, Harry,” Mr Weasley said. “I guess I am,” Harry exhaled. “There’s this girl … at Hogwarts … she … I liked her. She sort of … y’know, made my stomach go flip-floppy.” Mr Weasley nodded encouragingly in the waning light. Harry took a deep breath and plunged on. “I don’t think she liked me back but I wanted her to, really, really badly. She liked Cedric.” Harry blew out a breath unsteadily and Mr Weasley reached out a comforting hand and squeezed Harry’s shoulder. “I asked her to the Yule Ball,” he continued, swallowing heavily against the threatening tears. “She never looked at me the way Ginny looks at me and now when Ginny looks at me my stomach goes flip-flop.” “Do you think you like Ginny the way you liked this …?” “Cho,” said Harry, “her name is Cho and she’s really pretty and she plays Quidditch, she’s a Seeker just like me.” “Ah,” Mr Weasley smiled. “But it’s not the same,” Harry said, “not really. I think … I think I like Ginny ... more. But I don’t know why because I never thought Ginny was pretty — I mean, well of course she is pretty but not like Cho and she doesn’t play Seeker of course, but I saw her fly today. Did you know how well she flies, Mr Weasley? Ginny can fly with one hand on the broom and one hand holding a Quaffle and she can loop around in the air like that! She can fly faster than Ron and go higher than the twins!” Harry stopped suddenly and stared down at the penknife he was still twirling between his fingers. “I kissed her,” Harry blurted. “I didn’t mean to; well I didn’t think I meant to, but I did mean to the second time, well really she kissed me that time actually … but I wanted her to.” “I see,” said Mr Weasley neutrally. “I thought I wanted to kiss Cho,” Harry explained, “but I really, really want to kiss Ginny. Is that bad?” “No, Harry,” Mr Weasley smiled, “it’s not bad.” “But I didn’t even think she was pretty,” Harry protested. “Except for her eyes, she’s got really nice eyes and her hair … sort of shines.” “Harry, usually we want to kiss the people that we care about,” Mr Weasley said gently. “Not because we think they are pretty.” “Is it okay if I care about Ginny?” Harry asked tentatively. Mr Weasley nodded, the corner of his mouth twitched a little. “Yes, Harry, it’s okay for you to care about Ginny.” “Oh good,” Harry breathed a sigh of relief. “Because she really, really cares about me; I can tell.” “You can?” “Oh yes,” Harry nodded. He stared once more at the penknife in his hands and reached out slowly to drive the point of it into the wood underneath Ginny’s name. Mr Weasley lit his wand and shone it so that Harry could finish carving his name in the gathering darkness and when he finished and blew away the sawdust he’d created, Harry turned to Mr Weasley and smiled. “Thank you, Harry,” Mr Weasley said softly. He squeezed Harry on the shoulder again. “I want to be happy … like him,” Harry said softly, staring at his name, carved into the Weasley family history on the dock. “Do you think I will be? One day?” Mr Weasley got to his feet and held a hand out to haul Harry to his feet. “Yes, Harry, I think you will one day.” The two of them turned and padded softly off the dock. The moon had come out and the stars twinkled silently in the sky as they walked back to the Burrow. “Her smile looks a little bit like that,” Harry found himself saying to Mr Weasley as he pointed to the stars and he thought he saw Mr Weasley smile a little as they walked. |
| Reviews 144 |
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