Butterflies and Black Eyes by AMills
Summary: Mrs. Weasley refuses to let Hermione's black eye wait until they go to Diagon Alley. This small change results in a butterfly effect that changes Harry and Ginny's relationship in a way that neither anticipate.
Canon through chapter 5 of HBP.
Rating: PG
Categories: Post-OotP
Characters: None
Genres: None
Warnings: None
Challenges: None
Series: None
Published: 2024.07.16
Updated: 2024.08.03
Index
Chapter 1: Chapter 1 - Firewhisky
Chapter 2: Chapter 2 - Spies and Lies
Chapter 3: Chapter 3 - Wheezes
Chapter 4: Chapter 4 - Misunderstandings
Chapter 5: Chapter 5 - Discussion
Chapter 6: Chapter 6 - Resolution
Chapter 1: Chapter 1 - Firewhisky
“Here, dear, try this,” Mrs. Weasley said as she handed Hermione a tiny brass pot and conjured a small floating mirror. “It should cover up that bruise for now.”Harry watched as Hermione dabbed the powder with a small brush and worked it around her eye. Seeing Hermione apply makeup like one of the giggling girls from Hogwarts gave him an odd sense that something was wrong in the world.
“Zat is not how you apply zis sort of thing,” Fleur interrupted, snatching the brush from Hermione and earning dirty looks from Ginny and Mrs. Weasley.
Ron leaned forward in his chair as the cosmetic arts interested him for the first time.
Fleur whipped the brush around Hermione’s eye with incredible ease. Harry had the sense of watching Rembrandt or Van Gogh paint a masterpiece. After a few seconds, Fleur leaned back to inspect her work. It was flawless. The bruise had completely disappeared.
“Blimey,” Ron sputtered. “It looks better than her other eye.”
Hermione shot him a withering look as Ginny slapped the back of his head. “Thank you for the compliment, Ron, you always know just what to say.”
Harry was about to return to contemplating his Auror-less career path when the area around Hermione’s eye began to bubble. The black eye reappeared darker than before.
Mrs. Weasley threw her hands in the air. “That does it!” she snapped. “Where did I put those Howlers?”
A worried expression appeared on Ginny’s face. “Who wants to play Quidditch?” she asked in a tone that indicated it wasn’t a question. Hermione, Ron, and Harry scrambled to their feet and followed her out the door.
It was a pleasant time playing two-a-side Quidditch in the Weasley’s orchard. After some experimentation, they discovered the most balanced teams were Harry and Hermione against Ron and Ginny.
“You’re a lock for chaser,” Harry told Ginny as the foursome stowed their brooms back in the stone outhouse. “I’d wager you’re even an upgrade over Angelina.”
Ginny smiled at the praise.
“I wonder who the new captain will be,” Ron pondered. “Probably Katie, she’s got the most experience.”
“Oh, it’s Harry for sure,” Ginny replied confidently as they strode across the garden.
The declaration paused Harry mid-stride. “What?”
“You’re by far the best player and everyone respects you. Not to mention,” Ginny poked Harry’s ribs with a gleam in her eye, “you just demonstrated you have a tremendous aptitude for evaluating talent.”
“But I was banned,” Harry said, not wanting to acknowledge the growing hope inside of him.
“I’m sure they overturned that along with all of that old toad’s rules,” Hermione said as Ron held the door open for them.
“If you’re captain, are you going to make me try-out again for keeper?” Ron asked.
Harry acted as though he hadn’t heard the question.
The rest of the day passed in happy, peaceful relaxation. Hermione told them about her holiday to Hastings to visit the battlefield. Ron and Ginny asked a million questions that revealed their total ignorance of non-magical history. Harry was far from knowledgeable about those sorts of things, but even he had heard of William the Conqueror and the date 1066.
As the discussion wound down, Ginny excused herself.
“Where are you going?” Ron asked.
“To my room,” Ginny replied. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I need to write a letter to Dean.”
“Dean?” Ron scowled. “I’m not fond of you hopping between boys like a . . . a-“
“Don’t finish that sentence,” Ginny growled.
“Dean’s a nice bloke,” Harry said, earning himself a smile from Ginny and a look of betrayal from Ron.
“Ginny can take care of herself,” Hermione added.
“I just don’t want you to get a reputation,” Ron said as he folded his arms.
“A reputation like yours?” Ginny shot back. “A sixth-year who’s never gone out with anyone?”
Harry made frantic eye-contact with Hermione, wordlessly begging her to calm the situation down.
Hermione lay her hand gently on Ron’s shoulder. “Ron, she’s not going to get a reputation from writing a letter.”
Ron opened his mouth and closed it a few times in succession before sighing in frustration and rolling his eyes. “Fine,” he grumbled.
“Harry, do you mind if I borrow Hedwig for this one? Mum wants to keep our owls here in case of emergency.”
Harry looked back and forth between the two flame-haired Weasleys. Ron narrowed his eyes at Harry. Harry shifted his glance to Ginny’s bright brown eyes. Remembering how awful he felt when Cho cried, he decided Ron’s anger would be easier to bear than Ginny’s disappointment.
“Hedwig would love to get out and stretch her wings,” Harry said, bracing himself for Ron’s response.”
“Great!” Ginny said brightly and left the room.
Ron punched Harry in the shoulder. “You’re aiding and abetting turning my sister into a, you know.”
“Scarlet woman?” Hermione asked as she arced a dark eyebrow.
Later that evening, the trio was relaxing on a large blanket in the garden after a post-dinner Quidditch session. Ginny was continuing to practice in preparation for the school year. They were silently enjoying the summer night when two cracks heralded the arrival of the twins.
“Blimey Hermione,” George said as they walked up.
“You got us a right scolding,” Fred finished. “Sorry, we forgot about the punching telescopes.”
He pulled a tub out of his pocket and handed it to her; she unscrewed it gingerly to reveal a thick yellow paste.
“Just dab it on, that bruise’ll be gone within the hour,” said Fred. “We had to find a decent bruise remover.”
“We’re testing most of our products on ourselves,” George explained.
Hermione looked nervously at the paste. “It is safe, isn’t it?” she asked.
“’Course it is,” said Fred bracingly.
Mrs. Weasley had come sprinting out the door soon after the twins had arrived. After seeing it was them, she put away the wand that had been in her right hand, ready for action. After looking at Hermione’s eye and verifying that it was starting to fade, she pulled the twins into a tight hug.
“I’m so glad to see you’re still safe,” she said through tears.
“Could have fooled us after what you said earlier,” Fred muttered.
“Please Mum,” George protested, “Being suffocated by our own mother would be an embarrassing way to go out. What would everyone say?”
Mrs. Weasley released them, summoned glasses of pumpkin juice for everyone, and went back inside.
After the twins had updated them on the latest at their store, the conversation turned toward the Quidditch team next year. Harry was again surprised to hear the twins’ vote of confidence that he would be selected as captain.
“Of course, the biggest reason not to have Harry as captain is this bloke right here,” Fred said, gesturing to Ron.
George nodded in agreement. “I’d make Harry swear that he would keep Ron off the team first.”
Ron threw one of the enchanted apples they had been using at George’s head. He lazily turned it into a paper airplane with a flick of his wrist.
Fred started and gazed off into the distance beyond the Burrow. “How’s that?”
Everyone jumped to their feet. Harry instinctively grasped for his wand before remembering he had left it inside.
“I don’t see anything,” Ron gasped. “What is it?”
“It was a shooting star; I made a wish,” Fred said proudly.
Everyone else groaned as they relaxed. Ron took several large swigs from his glass. Harry caught the ghost of a smirk on George’s face and immediately looked at his own juice. Before he could conduct a further examination, Ginny strode up, looking especially windswept, and snatched the glass from his hand. She downed its contents in one gulp.
“Thanks Harry,” she said with a smile. “I was parched.”
Harry looked back at Fred and George, whose faces had turned white.
“What did you do to our drinks?” Harry demanded.
Hermione spit out her own mouthful. “What?!”
Ginny reached for her own wand before coming to the same realization as Harry.
“What did you prats just do to me?” she growled.
Fred and George looked at them for a few seconds.
“Apparently nothing,” George answered.
“It looks like our pills need a little bit more work,” Fred added. “Don’t worry Hermione, we only put them in Harry and Ron’s glasses.”
“What were they supposed to do?” Ron snapped.
“They were supposed to change the contents from pumpkin juice to something else. We thought it would be a laugh to see how Harry and Ron reacted.” Fred said evasively.
“Change it to what?” Ginny asked, relaxing due to the prank’s failure.
“Firewhiskey,” George admitted sheepishly. “We both thought Ron would choke on it, but I bet George a galleon that Harry would keep a straight-“
George’s sentence was cut-off as Ron doubled over, grasping his stomach. Ginny fell to her knees and dry-heaved.
“Or maybe it was just delayed,” Fred said, raising an eyebrow. “Looks like the formula needs some tweaking.”
“Was it a direct transfiguration, or did you alter the ratio?” Hermione gasped. She looked at her fingers and did some quick mental math. “That would be the equivalent of . . . 8 to 10 drinks!” She looked around in horror.
Ron’s face was screwed in pain as he gritted his teeth.
“Ron, Ron!” Hermione shrieked. “You need to vomit!” She grabbed his hair and attempted to stick two fingers down his throat.
“Get your bloody hand out of my mouth, witch!” Ron bellowed as he thrashed around, attempting to pull away.
Harry knelt next to Ginny. “Are you alright?” he asked.
She slowly nodded. “I think I’m okay. The nausea is passing. My stomach feels like its glowing.”
“That’s because you’re about to experience alcohol poisoning!” Hermione frantically ran her fingers through her hair. She looked at the twins. “Does your mother keep a bezoar on hand?”
“Don’t worry,” Fred said reassuringly. “Alcohol isn’t poisonous to wizards, it just makes us drunk. It’s only dangerous if you drink too much.”
“WHAT DO YOU THINK ALCOHOL POISONING IS?” Hermione shouted. “THEY JUST HAD WAY TOO MUCH!”
George looked at Ron for a few seconds with mirth on his face which abruptly disappeared when he looked at Ginny. “Fred, I think we should go keep an eye on the shop,” George said.
“Great idea,” Fred said.
They both quickly jogged up the path. Sharp cracks advertised their departure.
“We need to go get your mother,” Hermione declared, spinning to go inside.
“No!” Ron and Ginny shouted simultaneously.
“We’ll be fine, you’re always worrying,” Ron said, the subtle hint of a slur lurking behind his speech.
“Mum would-hic-kill us,” Ginny added. “Even if she-hic-believed us. Let’s just stay out here until it-hic-wears off.”
“Am I the only one here who knows how alcohol works?” Hermione demanded. “It won’t wear off until tomorrow.”
“Okay, how about this,” Harry said, taking Hermione’s arm to calm her down. She clutched his shirt. Ron threw him a strange look.
“We stay out here until everyone else goes to bed. I’ll help Ron to his room, you’ll help Ginny to her room, and they’ll sleep it off.”
There was a long pause. “Okay,” she responded. “But you need to make sure he doesn’t go to sleep on his back. If he’s vomiting, you have to stay awake so he doesn’t choke on it.”
Harry nodded. “I will.”
“And you two need to hydrate! I’ll be right back.” Hermione walked briskly inside.
Ron tilted his head as he openly stared at her retreating backside.
Ginny flicked his ear. “Pig.”
Harry lay on his back and studied the stars as the Weasleys fell deeper into the well of inebriation. Hermione watched them intently, making sure they didn’t injure themselves. She had already confiscated their brooms while muttering something about drink-driving and had forbade them from being anywhere near the pond.
Ron and Ginny had started a game of it and were chasing each other around. The game rapidly spun out of control as neither could move in a straight line, and it ended with both of them collapsing on the lawn. Ron slowly stood and wandered a few yards away, turning his back to everyone else. The sound of liquid hitting the ground filled the air.
“Ron!” Hermione shouted, her upper lip wrinkling in disgust.
Harry stepped over to where Ginny lay in the grass.
“How are you doing?” he asked as he squatted down next to her.
“Marvelous,” Ginny laughed, her eyes flashing. “I know I’ll feel awful in the morning, so I have to enjoy it now. Help me up?”
Harry extended his hand and helped her to her feet.
She looked up at him. “Wow, you got tall.” It was immediately obvious from her speech how far into intoxication she had travelled. She stared at him for a few seconds.
“Yes, I suppose so,” Harry said, his cheeks growing uncomfortably warm in the cool night air.
“You’re going to be fighting the girls off at Hogwarts,” Hermione added.
Ron hurriedly finished urinating and whipped around. “What the bloody hell do you mean by that?”
Hermione gave Ron a quick look of disdain. “Everyone knows you’ve been telling the truth now, don’t they? The whole Wizarding world has had to admit that you were right about Voldemort being back and that you really have fought him twice in the last two years and escaped both times. And now they’re calling you ‘the Chosen One’ ” well, come on, can’t you see why the girls are going to be after you?”
Ginny scowled. “Don’t go getting a big head there ‘Chosen One.’ I’ll hex you if you start acting like Malfoy.”
“And you’ve been through all that persecution from the Ministry when they were trying to make out you were unstable and a liar. You can still see the marks on the back of your hand where that evil woman made you write with your own blood, but you stuck to your story anyway.”
“You can still see where those brains got hold of me in the Ministry, look,” said Ron, raising his forearms.
Hermione ignored Ron. “And, like Ginny said, you’ve grown about a foot over the summer.”
Ron frowned at Hermione. “I’m tall,” he slurred.
Ginny put her arm around Harry and leaned against him. A flowery scent filled his nostrils.
“Dean’s tall.” Ginny said wistfully. A dreamy countenance not unlike Luna’s emerged. “He’s taller than you.”
“Yeah, I suppose,” Harry said, finding himself irritated for some reason.
“He’s really strong,” Ginny said, twisting a lock of red hair in her fingers. “I think he does Muggle exercises.”
Harry self-consciously looked down at his arms. Regretting the times Ron and he had mocked Dean behind his back for doing push-ups in the dormitory, Harry made a mental note to try them some time.
Two cracks sounded.
“Are those prats coming to fix us?” Ginny said, turning toward the source of the disruption.
The apparating duo was not the twins, but Bill and Fleur returning from a night out.
Hermione froze. Ron attempted to strike a nonchalant pose but lost his balance and collapsed in the grass with a loud groan. Ginny grabbed Harry’s upper-arm with an iron grip and stood stock still.
“Of course Phlegm would show up,” she said to Harry in what she thought was a whisper but was actually quite loud.
“What are you four up to?” Bill called out as he strode over to them.
“Nothing,” Hermione said a little too agitatedly.
Bill noticed Ginny clinging to Harry and peered at them with suspicion.
“Oh, he won’t care,” Ginny slurred. “Fred and George dosed Ron and me with Firewhiskey, and we’re waiting out here so Mum won’t kill us.”
Bill chuckled as Fleur put her hand to her mouth in shock.
“I cannot believe ze twins would do such a thing. It is illegal! Also, to have to drink zat dreadful stuff instead of a nice French wine-”
Bill snagged Fleur’s hand and resumed their walk toward the Burrow. “Don’t make any poor decisions,” he called out over his shoulder. “Have fun tomorrow morning.”
“Is there something you can do to help them?” Hermione shouted at their retreating backs.
“Not my area of expertise,” Bill yelled as they entered the house.
Ginny took the opportunity provided by Hermione’s distraction to dash toward the pond.
“Last one in is a flubberworm!”
Ron took off after her, bellowing “WHOO!” at the top of his lungs.
Hermione squealed. “I told you to stay away from there!”
Hermione sprinted after them. Harry jogged behind. Ginny had a head start, but Ron’s long legs enabled him to close the gap. They hit the water at about the same time.
Hermione looked around anxiously as Harry arrived next to her on the bank.
“Is there a rope we can throw them?” Hermione asked breathlessly.
“They’re fine, look,” Harry said, pointing to Ginny and Ron as they stumbled around in knee-deep water.
Ron kicked water at Ginny and staggered away, cackling at his joke. Ginny bent down to return fire with a handful of water when she lost her balance and plunged beneath the water. Hermione gasped and was about to enter the pond when Ginny stood back up, water cascading down her back. She tossed her hair behind her head and waded toward the shore.
Harry’s jaw dropped. Ginny’s wet clothing clung to her body and revealed things he had never realized were there. The realization that Ron’s little sister was becoming a woman slammed into him harder than the Hogwarts Express. The temperature was nippy in more ways than one. Ginny looked up at Harry, her eyes shining with a fiery joy. Harry snapped his mouth closed and quickly looked away toward Ron.
After a few seconds, Harry dared to look back at Ginny. She was only a few feet away now. Due to her proximity, Harry was limited to stealing a glance at her face. How had he never seen how gorgeous she was with her bright brown eyes and deep red lips?
Harry could not think about anything else for the rest of the night. The remaining time until the lights inside the Burrow blinked out and they snuck back inside passed in a blur. All Harry could think about was that form emerging from the water in slow-motion. He replayed it in his mind until he finally fell asleep.
Chapter 2: Chapter 2 - Spies and Lies
Harry was tortured that night by dreams where Ginny kept cropping up in ways that made him devoutly thankful that Ron could not perform Legilimency. When he awoke, he cast a fearful glance over at Ron’s unmoving form. He had forgotten Hermione’s command to keep an eye on Ron. Fortunately, Ron’s snores evidenced his survival through the night.Hermione and Harry had already finished breakfast when Ron and Ginny made their belated appearance.
Harry put down that day’s edition of the Daily Prophet, glad to have an excuse to stop imbibing its barrage of depressing news. Ron’s eyes were bloodshot. He winced as he sat at the table and reached for a bowl of cold eggs.
Ginny let out a groan as she gingerly lowered herself into the chair across from Harry. She closed her eyes in pain, allowing Harry a few seconds to study her. Her hair was a tangled mess, and she was paler than usual. She was still beautiful. Butterflies sprang to life in his stomach, and he quickly averted his gaze toward Hermione. She had put down her new copy of Advanced Rune Translation and was looking at Ron and Ginny with a compassionate expression.
“Can I get something for you?” Hermione asked quietly.
“A new head,” Ginny whispered.
“Water,” Ron rasped.
Hermione sprang to her feet and returned with two glasses of water. The Weasleys drank them in sync. Mrs. Weasley came inside from the garden with an armload of vegetables, which cued everyone to go outside to avoid any awkward questions.
They sprawled on a blanket in the shade of the orchard. Harry and Hermione spent their time reading, while Ron and Ginny remained in their fugue state, slowly returning to normalcy around lunchtime. When Mrs. Weasley called them inside, Ginny stretched slow and languidly, arching her back in a feline pose. Harry stared at the exposed skin on her stomach.
“Control yourself!” Harry furiously told himself. “She’s Ron’s sister!”
Everyone was tucking into Mrs. Weasley’s delicious cottage pie when Fleur descended the stairs.
“Good morning!” she said cheerfully, smiling radiantly at Harry.
Ron choked on a large piece of meat. Hermione allowed him to struggle for a few seconds before pounding quite vigorously on his back to dislodge it.
“Oh, uh, good morning!” Harry managed to reply.
“It’s afternoon,” Ginny muttered darkly, rolling her eyes as she finished her plate.
Fleur’s smile disappeared when she saw the pie on the table. “Ooh, I cannot eat zis ‘eavy food for breakfast. Per’aps I will find a fresh apple in ze orchard. ‘Arry, would you like to walk wiz me?”
Harry furrowed his eyebrows in bewilderment as everyone else at the table turned to see his reaction. “Sure, I guess.”
Ginny curled her lip in scorn. Hermione crossed her arms and exhaled sharply through her nose. Ron gave Harry a subtle nod of approval.
Harry rose and followed Fleur outside into the warm sun.
“You do not know me well,” Fleur said as they walked toward the apple trees. “It may surprise you to learn I am a proud woman.”
Harry did not know Fleur well, but the fact that she was quite prideful was one of the few things he did know. He kept silent.
“I am proud of ‘oo I am,” she continued. “Proud of my family, proud of my ‘eritage, and proud of my country. I do not apologise for ‘oo I am.”
Harry continued to follow, utterly perplexed.
“I do not care for what ozzers zink of me.” Fleur halted and stared off into the distance. “Except for now. I love Bill. We are to be married.”
Fleur glanced at Harry with the most vulnerable look he had ever seen on her face.
“The Weasleys love you,” Harry lied.
“I am not stupid, please do not ‘umour me. I know what zey say about me be’ind my back. ‘I am stuck-up. I zink I am too good for zem. I do not really love Bill.’ Zey call me ‘Phlegm.’ I would not care what zese people zink, except zat I love Bill and ‘e loves zem very much. I do not want zis to cause trouble in our marriage.”
“Ron likes you,” Harry pointed out.
Fleur laughed, making a noise like a tinkling bell. “Yes, I suppose so.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Harry asked.
Fleur turned to face Harry and placed her arm on his shoulder. An electric shock shot up his arm and radiated through his body. Harry barely managed to keep his legs from buckling underneath him.
“Because I need your ‘elp. You are not family, but zey treat you as if you were. I want zem to treat me ze same way.”
“Hermione isn’t one of the Weasleys, and they treat her like family. Why don’t you ask her? She’s a lot smarter than I am.”
Fleur scoffed. “She does not like me eizer.”
“What do you want me to do?”
Fleur removed her hand, and they resumed walking.
“Perhaps you could say some zings about me to zem. Positive zings.”
Harry remembered his earlier attempt at defending Fleur.
“I suppose you like the way Phlegm says ‘Arry, do you?” Ginny had said scornfully.
“I’ll try,” Harry said, not optimistic he could affect much change. Harry watched as Fleur searched the branches for a ripe apple. Any imperfection caused her to impatiently toss it aside.
“Zese trees need to be pruned; zey are a tangled mess.” Fleur complained. “Back ‘ome, we shape our trees so zey do not grow out of control.”
“Fleur,” Harry said with a tremor in his voice. “Maybe it would be better if you didn’t try to compare how things are here to how they are back home.”
Fleur looked at him, puzzled. The thought had apparently never occurred to her.
“I should not say what I zink?” she asked. “I should lie?”
Harry shook his head. “No, don’t lie. Just don’t. . . tell the whole truth all the time.”
Fleur pursed her lips. “I will give it a try.”
Fleur finally selected an apple. She conjured a bench with a flourish of her wand and sat. She indicated that Harry should sit next to her.
Harry tried to keep the leg that brushed against hers from shaking. He looked back toward the Burrow. Something golden flashed in one of the windows.
“’Arry,” Fleur said, placing her hand on his knee. “I am quite fond of you.”
Harry gulped audibly.
She leaned in. “Please do not tell anyone about zis. I especially do not want to upset Bill. Promise me.”
Harry nodded.
Harry left Fleur to ponder her situation in the orchard and returned to the Burrow. As soon as Harry entered the living room he was confronted by Ginny and Hermione. Ron was sprawled on the sofa with his eyes closed.
Ginny elbowed Hermione and muttered something.
“What was that all about?” Hermione asked suspiciously.
“Nothing,” Harry said hastily. He noticed Mrs. Weasley at the sink with her head slightly turned toward him. She paused in her task of washing the vegetables.
The girls stared at him unblinking.
“None of your business,” Harry added heatedly. “Were you just waiting around for me to get back?”
“Not me,” Ron said. “I was in the bathroom the whole time you were gone. You would not believe what Firewhisky does to your guts.”
“Do I need to tell Bill that you’re moving in on Phlegm?” Ginny snarled. “Actually,” Ginny tapped her chin, “that might help get rid of her . . . “
“I’m not having this discussion,” Harry snapped. “Frankly, I think you lot are treating her quite horrid. She’s a perfectly nice witch and you’re acting like she’s Umbridge.”
Ginny sceptically raised an eyebrow. “Perfectly pretty, you mean,” she muttered.
Harry was annoyed both by her insinuation and by how attractive she looked while doing it.
Hermione took a deep breath. “Harry,” she said haltingly as she twisted her hands together. “Fleur isn’t, you know, she isn’t charming you or anything?”
Harry stared at her, dumbstruck.
“What are you on about?” Ron said, quickly rising to a sitting position. He peered at the back of Hermione’s head. “Why do you care so much about Fleur hanging out with Harry?”
Hermione and Ginny looked at each other, determining who would speak next. It was Hermione.
She sighed. “Harry, just be careful. You don’t want to get distracted.”
Harry’s ears burned with anger. He stormed past them without a word.
Harry simmered with frustration as he threw his copy of Advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts down at the foot of his bed, unable to focus. He had tried three times to read the same page before giving up. He had just wanted a nice, relaxing holiday at the Burrow before going back to the real world. Instead, he was getting caught up in family squabbles and teenage crushes. He lay on the bed and looked up at the ceiling. A knock sounded at the door.
“Come on in,” Harry called, assuming it was Ron before realizing Ron would never bother knocking.
He looked up to see Ginny skulk in, her head bowed to the floor with long red hair covering her face. She took a seat on a box without looking up.
“I’m sorry,” she said dully. “We shouldn’t have cornered you like that.”
Harry stared at the sunlight dancing on her hair without saying anything.
“She just frustrates me,” Ginny said, looking up.
Harry quickly looked away out the window.
Ginny sighed. “You wouldn’t understand. I didn’t come in here to talk about her, but I did want to apologise.”
Harry turned back toward her. “It’s okay,” he said. “Forget about it.”
Ginny smiled and Harry’s heart did a flip inside his chest. She got up from the box and plopped down on the edge of the bed. His heart did two flips. That flowery scent was wafting into his nostrils quite strongly now.
“We need to get back at them.”
“Who?”
Ginny rolled her eyes. “Fred and George. We can’t let them get away with this.”
Harry shook his head. “I don’t want to get into a prank war with them. They didn’t do anything to me.”
Ginny mockingly shook her head in response. “Sorry, you don’t have a choice. I’ve decided I need you.”
Harry twitched at the last three words. “Why is everyone asking me for help?” he wondered.
“What about Ron and Hermione?” he asked.
“Don’t be stupid. You know Hermione would never help, and Ron would be worthless.”
Harry disagreed but didn’t want to argue with the feisty redhead sitting in his room. He was enjoying the conspiratorial nature of their conversation and desired it to continue.
“Alright, I’m in.”
Ginny’s eyes brightened. “Great! We need to hit them where it hurts. You know what that means.”
“I don’t.”
Ginny tilted her head and looked at Harry patronizingly. “Harry. What is the thing the twins care about more than anything else?”
“Their joke shop.”
“Exactly.”
“What are you planning to do, burn it down?”
“I’m talking about a prank, not a crime.”
“So, what then?”
Ginny tossed Harry’s book at his face.
“I don’t know! That’s what I need you for, you git!”
Harry opened his mouth to reply when Ron bounded into the room.
“Hey, Harry, you ready for two-a-side?”
Ron did a double-take at Ginny. “What are you doing in here?”
“Apologizing to Harry,” Ginny replied.
Ron accepted this explanation and turned back to Harry.
“Quidditch sounds great,” Harry said, vaulting to his feet.
The game was going well when a distraction arrived in the form of Hedwig. Hermione saw her first, pointing her out to Harry as the snowy owl glided toward the Burrow. Unfortunately, the momentary distraction caused Hermione to fly out of the makeshift pitch and straight into a tree branch.
The thick bough slammed into her stomach. Hermione’s body instantly decelerated, but the broom kept its previous trajectory. With nothing underneath her, Hermione plunged forty feet toward the ground.
Harry instantly dove toward the falling body, Ginny’s screams and Ron’s shouts fading into the background as he tuned everything out but Hermione. Moments before disaster, Harry was able to grab her and slow their descent. They ploughed into the ground. Harry and Hermione rolled in a tumble of arms and legs until they slowed to a stop, Hermione resting on top of Harry.
Harry tried to inhale and panicked as oxygen refused to enter his lungs. Ron and Ginny arrived a few seconds later.
“Are you okay?” Ron and Ginny both asked anxiously.
“I’m okay,” came Hermione’s muffled response. “Just a few bumps and bruises. Nothing Mrs. Weasley can’t fix.”
Harry continued to try to breathe without any success.
“Harry?” Hermione asked. “Can you let go of me?”
Harry realized he was holding Hermione in a death grip. One of his hands rested on a sensitive area of Hermione’s backside. He let go. Ron frowned as he looked at the place where Harry’s grip had been. Relief flooded into Harry as he regained his wind. He took several deep breaths and slowly rose to his feet.
“Thank you!” Hermione cried in gratitude as she pulled him into a deep hug.
Ron’s frown deepened.
“Nice flying,” Ginny said with a smile of relief. “You really must be the chosen one.”
Mrs. Weasley predictably fussed over them for a few minutes, but she was able to mend their injuries almost as well as Madame Pomfrey. After it was clear there were no lasting injuries, Ginny excused herself to go read Dean’s reply which Hedwig had left on the table.
At the mention of Dean, it was as though large and scaly erupted into life in Harry’s stomach, clawing at his insides: Hot blood seemed to flood his brain, so that all thought was extinguished, replaced by a savage urge to jinx Dean into a jelly. Wrestling with this sudden madness, he heard Mrs. Weasley’s voice as though from a great distance away.
“What do you mean letter from Dean? Your father hasn’t arrived home with the post yet.”
Harry managed to wrestle the monster away and return to sanity.
“I used Hedwig,” Ginny explained nervously.
“Harry, did you tell Hedwig about the post?” Mrs. Weasley asked.
Harry remembered Dumbledore’s remark that all the Weasley’s post was being searched at the Ministry before being sent on. A flash of guilt shot through Harry.
“I’m sorry; I didn’t realize I needed to.”
“That’s alright dear,” Mrs. Weasley said in a kind, motherly tone. “Please let her know for the future.”
She turned to Ginny, the kind tone instantly disappearing. “But you, young lady! You knew! You intentionally used his owl!”
“What’s so secret about these letters?” Ron demanded.
“I’ll go talk to Hedwig,” Harry said, grasping for an excuse to leave. He went up to his room and let Hedwig in the window.
A few hours later, Mrs. Weasley informed him that dinner would be ready soon. Harry went to the bathroom to wash his hands and then continued down the stairs. He heard the din of Mrs. Weasley cooking while also instructing Ginny and Ron on how to set the table. He paused outside of Ginny’s door as he was struck by a wave of curiosity.
What was in the letter that Ginny was so anxious to keep from the Ministry? If it was anything that bad, shouldn’t Ron know about it? After all, Ron had a responsibility to keep his younger sister safe, didn’t he? Before he could talk himself out of it, Harry found himself slowly turning the knob to Ginny’s room and tiptoeing past the threshold.
He had never been inside it before. It was small, but bright. There was a large poster of the wizarding band the Weird Sisters on one wall, and a picture of Gwenog Jones, Captain of the all-witch Quidditch team the Holyhead Harpies, on the other. A desk stood facing the open window, which looked out over the orchard.
Harry wanted to sprint back into the hall, but something compelled him forward. He looked quickly around the room but couldn’t see anything that resembled a letter. He turned to leave when something glinting gold under the bed caught his Seeker eye. He knelt and pulled a pair of Omnioculars out from under the dust ruffle. He put them to his eyes which then widened in shock.
It was Fleur and him sitting on the bench in the orchard. Ginny had been spying on him! He fingered the replay knob on the side.
There wasn’t any sound, but the picture was so clear Harry could easily read Fleur’s lips.
“’Arry,” Fleur mouthed while looking into his eyes and placing a hand on his knee. “I am quite fond of you.” Fleur leaned in even closer. “Please do not tell anyone about zis. I especially do not want to upset Bill. Promise me.”
Harry was interrupted by the sound of the door opening behind him. He frantically tossed the brass Omnioculars back under the bed and sprang to his feet in one fluid motion.
“Harry Potter!” Ginny roared, her face bright red. “What the bloody hell are you doing in my room?!”
Chapter 3: Chapter 3 - Wheezes
Caught red-handed, Harry resorted to deflection.“I knew you were spying on me; I saw you in the window,” he said accusingly.
Ginny’s face briefly flushed darker before rapidly lightening to a pale white. This was not her calming down; this was her wrath intensifying to a white-hot flame.
Harry braced himself for Mrs. Weasleyesque explosion, but what happened was much worse.
Ginny closed her eyes and clenched her fists.
“Get. Out.” she said in a low tone scarcely louder than a whisper that vibrated with ferocious intensity.
Harry scurried past her and descended the stairs. Ginny’s door slammed behind him, the echo resounding several times through the house. It sounded as if a bomb had been dropped on the Burrow. Harry entered to the kitchen to find five sets of wide eyes looking back at him.
Mr. Weasley nervously turned to his wife, clearly hoping she would address the situation.
“Is something wrong, Harry?” Mrs. Weasley asked with motherly concern, her gaze flitting to the stairway.
Harry didn’t know what to say. He picked something that was technically true.
“Ginny and I, uh, had an argument.”
“About what?” Ron asked.
Hermione remained silent, but Harry could see the barely contained curiosity struggling to burst forth.
Fleur examined her reflection in the back of a spoon, nonplussed by the situation.
Harry slowly pulled out his chair, sat, and inched toward the table, stalling to give himself time to think.
“I thought she had taken something from me, so I went into her room to get it,” Harry said. “I was wrong, and I shouldn’t have gone in there.”
“I went in her room once,” Ron said with the shell-shocked face of a man experiencing a flashback to the trenches. “My nose bled for a week.”
“She is very particular about her space, dear,” Mrs. Weasley said in an understanding tone. “I’m sure she’ll calm down.”
Ginny did not calm down. She stayed in her room for the rest of the night and all the next day, only coming out for meals. Whenever Harry tried to speak to her, she completely ignored him as though he wasn’t there. Harry also wasn’t on speaking terms with Hermione. After dinner, Harry had confronted her in the scullery when she brought down her laundry.
“Did you know Ginny was spying on me?” Harry demanded.
“Yes,” Hermione said, her cheeks faintly pink. “Was that what your fight was actually about?”
“Were you spying on me?”
Hermione slammed the clothes hamper down. “Fleur is up to something,” she whispered. “I am trying to look out for my friend.”
“Friends don’t spy on each other with omnioculars,” Harry whispered back, leaning in to emphasize the point.
“The omnioculars were Ginny’s idea. She nicked them from Ron’s room when you went on your ‘walk’ with Fleur,” Hermione countered, using finger quotes.
“You need to lay off of Fleur,” Harry snapped. “Jealousy isn’t a good look on you.”
“I am not jealous,” Hermione insisted, her face growing even more flushed. Before she could continue, Ron cleared his throat behind them.
Harry and Hermione guiltily sprang away from one another.
“What are you two whispering about?” Ron said suspiciously, studying Hermione’s flushed face.
“Nothing,” Harry said. “I’m going to bed.”
The two fights meant that two-a-side Quidditch was definitely off for the next day. Instead, Harry assumed the role of Chaser, and Ron practiced his Keeper role. Ron saved the majority of Harry’s attempts, which meant that, unlike Harry, Ron was in a cheery mood for the rest of the day.
The day after brought gloom and drizzle to match Harry’s mood. He was still irritated at Hermione and Ginny for spying on him, but that emotion was rapidly disappearing. Hermione’s friendship with him was strong enough for him to let this go.
Whenever he tried to be angry at Ginny, that slow-motion scene of her standing up from the pond played in his mind, and his emotions took a turn into something else entirely. His frustration with her was rapidly replaced with irritation toward Dean.
“To be fair, you did snoop in her room before you even knew she was watching you,” Harry told himself as his mind found more and more reasons to forgive her.
Unfortunately, Ginny’s ire toward him had not disappeared as quickly as Harry’s fury at her. He was still receiving the silent treatment.
Harry was almost desparate enough to ask Hermione for help when, as he was browsing the depressing news in the Daily Prophet, a way out suddenly occurred to him. He had to wait for Bill and Fleur to arrive at the Burrow that evening before he could finalize everything, but when that happened, Harry was confident he had the solution.
It was after ten o’clock, but the light from under Ginny’s door told Harry she was still awake. Harry knocked.
“Who is it,” Ginny called sceptically.
“It’s me,” Harry answered. “Harry.”
There was no response.
“Ginny, please open the door.”
Silence.
“This isn’t about what happened. This is about Fred and George. I know how to get back at them.”
Ginny still didn’t say anything, but Harry heard the creaking of a bed followed by approaching footsteps. Ginny opened the door a crack. Bright brown eyes stared at Harry, and he was reminded of his first visit to the Burrow.
Ginny distrustfully studied his face for a few seconds, sighed, and opened the door.
“Come in,” she muttered. “This better be good.”
Harry watched her nightgown clad form stride lithely across the room and enter her bed. Harry walked in and stood awkwardly.
“I’m sorr-“ Harry began.
Ginny raised her hand. “You said this wasn’t about that. We both did something we shouldn’t have. Let’s leave it in the past.”
“Great,” Harry said with a great sense of relief. “I have a plan.”
“What is it?”
“We are going to pose as reporters for the Daily Prophet and interview George and Fred about their store.”
Ginny scrunched her face as if Harry had just suggested the most idiotic idea in the world. “Harry, they know us.”
“Not if we’re disguised with Polyjuice potion.”
“Where are we going to get that?”
“From Bill. He has a friend at Gringotts that was using it to test some security counter-measures.”
Ginny sat up excitedly. “Hold up. You’ve worked out a full plan already!”
Harry nodded. “I’ll start from the beginning. I managed to convince your mother to let you and I go to Diagon Alley tomorrow. I felt a little guilty because I promised Dumbledore I’d stay here, but I figured this was okay because I’ll be going there anyway to get school supplies, and we’ll be with Bill and Fleur.”
At the mention of Fleur, Ginny’s face took on the appearance of someone who had just discovered a dozen Dungbombs in her bed.
“I know you’re not her biggest fan,” Harry said quickly, “but she’s willing to help, and she actually came up with your excuse.”
“Excuse?”
“Our story to everyone else is that I’m going with Bill to get some money out of my vault. Because security is so tight, it’s been taking five hours for the public to get their gold. We told your mom that Bill can help me skip the queue.”
“And me?”
“You’re going bridemaid dress shopping with Fleur.”
Ginny looked horrified.
“Not really,” Harry said quickly. “It’s just the excuse. Fleur actually came up with a pretty good one.”
“Figures you’d think it was great,” Ginny muttered.
Harry ignored her remark. “Anyway, once we get there, we’ll take Polyjuice to look like a couple of Bill’s other mates who work for the Daily Prophet. Bill Floo’d Fred and George tonight. He told them he overheard a few reporters talking about the new joke shop, so he offered them a tour for the newspaper.”
An evil grin appeared on Ginny’s face as she immediately caught on.
The next day saw Ginny and Harry walking down the lane away from the Burrow with Fleur and Bill as Hermione and Ron watched enviously from the window. They paused at the edge of the property just before the security perimeter.
“They would be even more disappointed about what they’re missing if they knew what we were really up to,” Ginny giggled.
“Whatever you do, don’t let Mum find out about this,” Bill said in a low tone. “She’d kill me. The only reason I’m allowing this is because you’ll be polyjuiced the whole time.”
Bill slipped each of them a vial. They turned their backs to the Burrow and quickly imbibed the substance. It was a much more pleasant experience than before. Bill’s friend had a light, refreshing taste somewhat like cucumber.
Immediately, his insides started writhing, a burning sensation spread from his stomach to the ends of his fingers, and then a horrible melting feeling went throughout his body. Unlike last time, Harry was able to remain standing as the transition occurred. This was likely due to the fact that the man Harry was doubling was about his same size and build. The transformation stopped as soon as it had started.
“That was unpleasant,” Ginny remarked. She was now an older, brunette witch who bore a Hermione-like visage of intense concentration.
“Impressive,” Harry remarked. “If that had been my first time, I probably would have fallen over.”
“Yes, well, you’re a bloke, aren’t you?” Ginny said with a wry smile.
Fleur snickered.
“What does that have to do with anything?” Harry asked, confused.
“I’m used to my insides feeling like they’re falling out,” Ginny said nonchalantly.
Harry still had no idea what she was talking about, but he decided to let the matter drop.
“Take my arm,” Bill told Harry.
Fleur indicated Ginny should do likewise, which she begrudgingly did.
Harry again revisited the feeling of horrible compression before Diagon Alley appeared before him. Ginny let out a squeal of joy.
“So that’s apparating,” she said with a smile. “Everyone at Hogwarts wonders what it’s like.”
“Why is side-along apparition so uncommon?” Harry asked Bill.
“It’s dangerous,” Bill replied matter-of-factly. “It’s really easy to splinch your companion. There are usually easier, safer, and more comfortable methods of transportation.
“Oh,” Harry replied. “Then why did we just do it now?”
“Because we need to be fast,” Bill said, scanning the area for threats. “And because I knew Fleur and I are both skilled enough to do it safely.”
Diagon Alley had changed. The colorful, glittering window displays of spellbooks, potion ingredients, and cauldrons were lost to view, hidden behind the large Ministry of Magic posters that had been pasted over them. Most of these somber purple posters carried blown-up versions of the security advice on the Ministry pamphlets that had been sent out over the summer, but others bore moving black-and-white photographs of Death Eaters known to be on the loose. Bellatrix Lestrange was sneering from the front of the nearest apothecary.
“The shop is just around the corner.” Bill said, checking his watch. “It opens at nine; you have almost an hour. I have to go to work, but Fleur will stay and watch. Good luck you two.”
“How is Harry supposed to get back?” Ginny asked.
“Fleur will take both of you,” Bill said.
“Fleur is going to side-along apparate two people?” Ginny asked incredulously.
“You doubt my abilities?” Fleur asked with an offended tone.
“I just hear it’s difficult,” Ginny said hesitantly.
“Ginny,” Bill said impatiently. “She was the Triwizard champion for Beauxbatons. She’s quite capable.”
Bill gave Fleur a quick kiss goodbye. Ginny rolled her eyes as he trotted away toward Gringotts.
The three of them walked in the direction that Bill had indicated. Harry’s eyes widened in shock when he saw the shop.
Set against the dull, poster-muffled shop fronts around them, Fred and George’s windows hit the eye like a firework display. Casual passersby were looking back over their shoulders at the windows, and a few rather stunned-looking people had actually come to a halt, transfixed. The left-hand window was dazzlingly full of an assortment of goods that revolved, popped, flashed, bounced, and shrieked; Harry’s eyes began to water just looking at it.
They walked inside. Harry stared around, looking up at the boxes piled to the ceiling: Here were the Skiving Snackboxes that the twins had perfected during their last, unfinished year at Hogwarts. There were bins full of trick wands and boxes of quills, which came in Self-Inking, Spell-Checking, and Smart-Answer varieties.
Fred, wearing a set of magenta robes that clashed magnificently with his flaming hair, was bent over a gigantic purple poster that looked similar to those of the Ministry for Magic.
“Hello, are you Fred or George Weasley?” Ginny asked in a businesslike manner.
“I’m Fred,” he responded, hurrying over to shake Ginny’s hand. “You must be Margaret Truss.”
“And I’m David Johnson,” Harry added, leaning in to shake Fred’s hand. “We’re with the Daily Prophet.”
A door in the back of the shop slammed as George skidded through it. He quickly approached them, and they repeated their introductions.
“I suppose I should get straight to the point,” Ginny said, pulling out an oversized notepad. “This seems to be a rather frivolous shop. Is this the right time to open such a place? People are going to be reading this article right after hearing about disappearances and other horrible things.”
George seemed prepared for the question. “This is exactly the right time to open this shop. A good friend once told me we could all do with a few laughs in the middle of tragedy. It helps keep us sane.”
“Hmm,” Ginny said dismissively as she scrawled furiously on her notepad. “I suppose that’s one perspective, although I doubt many of our readers will agree. What do you have for sale?”
“We should save the best for last,” Fred said, steering them away from the Skiving Snackboxes. “This is our wand selection.”
“I already have a wand,” Ginny said.
“Me too,” Harry added.
“No, no,” Fred said. “They’re trick wands, see?”
He picked one up and waved it until it turned into a rubber chicken.
“Why would I want a chicken?” Ginny asked, putting on a confused air.
George closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
“They’re not for you,” he patiently explained. “You switch out your friend’s wand with it in class, and then when they go to cast a spell -“
He grabbed another wand and waved it until it changed into a pair of briefs. George turned to them for approval.
“I guess that one’s handy if I ran out of clean pants,” Harry said, nodding. “But I wouldn’t change my pants in the middle of class.”
“And why would I want my friend to have the pair of pants if I need them?” Ginny added obtusely.
Fred rubbed his eyes. “It’s a joke, see? It’s embarrassing for your friend.”
“I don’t want to embarrass my friends,” Ginny said. “If I kept doing that, they wouldn’t be my friends.”
Ginny reached forward and picked up another wand.
A look of horror flashed onto across George’s face.
“No!” he cried, reaching out to snag the wand.
Ginny waved it and it began beating her around the head. “OWWWWW!” she wailed. “MAKE IT STOP!”
Fred managed to snag the wand and stop it. He quickly tossed it back into the box as Ginny collapsed to the floor.
Harry rushed forward and knelt next to her.
“Are you alright?”
Ginny winked at him, and Harry realized it was merely a convincing act. He stood up and pointed accusatorily at Fred and George.
“Those should come with a warning label, what is wrong with you?” Harry said in an offended tone.
“We are so sorry,” Fred said, trying to help Ginny to her feet. “We will certainly make sure customers know what those do.”
Ginny allowed her hand to slip out of Fred’s and fell back to the floor. Harry looked up to see George agitatedly tugging at his hair. Harry turned around and bit his lip furiously to keep from laughing. After he regained his composure, he followed Ginny to a large display near the counter. Ginny read aloud the information on the back of a box bearing a highly colored picture of a handsome youth and a swooning girl who were standing on the deck of a pirate ship.
“One simple incantation and you will enter a top-quality, highly realistic, thirty-minute daydream, easy to fit into the average school lesson and virtually undetectable (side effects include vacant expression and minor drooling). Not for sale to under-sixteens.’”
Ginny looked up with a disapproving glare. “This is simply obscene. Are you really targeting children with this?”
Fred hastily shook his head. “No, no, we only sell those to customers who are of-age.”
“How can you tell who’s of-age?” Harry asked. “Do you have verification procedures?”
Fred’s mouth opened and shut like a fish.
Harry turned toward the back of the shop where he saw a stand of card and rope tricks.
“Are these Muggle magic tricks?” Harry asked.
Fred nodded, a nauseous expression on his face.
“These aren’t used for Muggle-baiting are they?” Ginny demanded. “I know your father has been crusading against that sort of thing for years.”
“They’re for Muggle enthusiasts,” George said smoothly.
“But Muggles can’t do magic,” Harry pointed out. “You’re really just selling Muggle objects; there’s no magic to them.”
“Do you have a Muggle importation license to sell these?” Ginny demanded.
“I-I thought we didn’t need those for these types of products,” Fred said weakly.
“Hmm,” Ginny said dismissively, wandering near the window to an array of violently pink products. “Love potions? Do they work?”
“Yes,” said Fred, “for up to twenty-four hours at a time depending on the weight of the boy in question and the attractiveness of the girl.”
“Should you be playing with people’s lives like that?” Harry asked.
“They all contain behavioral repressants,” Fred explained, a feverish look in his eyes. “They keep people who have been dosed from, let’s say ‘going too far.’”
“Oh, so they mess with minds even more than normal love potions,” Ginny frowned and turned. “What are those?”
She was pointing at a number of round balls of fluff in shades of pink and purple, all rolling around the bottom of a cage and emitting high-pitched squeaks.
“Pygmy Puffs,” said George. “Miniature puffskeins, we can’t breed them fast enough.”
“Excuse me,” Fleur said. She had been standing in the back of the shop silently watching the interview until now. “Does that violate the Ban on Experimental Breeding?”
George scoffed. “That law isn’t enforced.”
“I see,” Fleur said. “I wonder what your fazzer will zink about zat.”
George’s eyes widened. Before he could respond, Ginny let out a large sigh, shook her head, and wrote something in his notepad. Fred tried peering at it, but Ginny quickly turned it away from him, giving him a judgmental look. Fred turned away and tensely cracked his knuckles.
Ginny and Harry continued to roundly abuse Fred and George for several more minutes. Harry hadn’t had this much fun in ages. They were perfectly in sync as they toyed with the twins.
“This must be what professional dancers feel like,” Harry mused as they expertly played off one another’s remarks.
Ginny acted her role so well that Harry feared he would crack a rib from holding his laughter in. For his part, Ginny had to hide her face with her notepad a few times to regain her composure. Harry even saw the tiniest hint of a smirk on Fleur’s face a time or two.
Eventually, it was time to bring the charade to a close.
Ginny sighed loudly. “All right, I think we’ve seen enough. Ha - David, are you finished?”
Harry nodded, placing an unsatisfied look on his borrowed face.
“Wait,” Fred said desperately, trying to salvage something out of the disastrous situation. “You haven’t seen our Skiving Snackboxes!”
Harry and Ginny exchanged a look.
“Okay,” Ginny said. “Make it quick.”
Fred and George promptly ushered them to the boxes piled to the ceiling and described how they were used by students who wanted to avoid classes.
Harry put an admonishing frown on his face during the explanation.
Ginny reached up, grabbed a Nosebleed Nougat, and unwrapped it. In a smooth motion, she replaced the Nosebleed Nougat in her hand with a harmless caramel nougat from home. She chewed and swallowed.
“How long should this take?” she asked the twins after a few seconds had passed.
“Any moment,” Fred answered.
They waited for the nougat to take effect. Harry started tapping his foot on the floor impatiently.
“I’m afraid you might be selling some defective products,” Ginny said curtly.
Harry reached up and took a Puking Pastille. He performed the same sleight-of-hand as Ginny, replacing it with a lemon Bertie Botts Every Flavor Bean.
They again waited for about a minute with no effect. Fred and George were both ashen faced.
“This one seems to be defective as well,” Harry said, clicking his tongue reproachfully. “Do any of your products work as advertised?”
George shakingly conjured a wooden chair and collapsed into it, holding his head in his hands.
Fred reached up and grabbed a Puking Pastille. He crammed the orange section into his mouth and set the purple portion next to him. Moments later, he began projectile vomiting all over the shop. He reached up to grab the purple chew, but it had disappeared. Harry caught Fleur returning her wand to her sleeve out of the corner of his eye.
“Thank you for your time,” Ginny said as they backed away from the twins.
George remained despondent in the chair, not even acknowledging their departure.
Fred frantically tried to unwrap a new Puking Pastille between heaves.
Fleur handed each of them a new vial. They downed it and the effects of the Polyjuice Potion immediately left their system.
“Are you ready to go?” Harry asked her.
Fleur grabbed both of their arms and nodded.
“One more thing,” Ginny said, her voice back to normal.
Fred had managed to get a new package open and swallow the correct end. He sat in a puddle of his own sick, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. George continued to stare at the floor.
Ginny smiled viciously. “If you prats ever try to prank me or Harry again, next time will be even worse.”
Fred and George looked up, realization appearing on the faces as they saw Ginny and Harry’s true forms. Ginny cackled and Harry roared with laughter as Fleur pulled them into the constricting arms of Apparition.
Chapter 4: Chapter 4 - Misunderstandings
After they arrived at the lane to the Burrow, Harry sank to his knees on the hard-packed dirt as he snorted with glee. Ginny bent at the waist with her arms wrapped around her torso as she laughed hysterically.Eventually, the two regained their composure and stood up. They looked at each other which immediately set them off again. When that bout of mirth was finished, Ginny walked over and wrapped Harry in an enormous hug.
Harry gripped her tightly, closing his eyes as he inhaled her intoxicating flowery scent. He lost himself in her embrace and found himself clinging to her far too long. He coughed and let her go.
“That was brilliant!” Ginny exclaimed, her face glowing.
She turned to Fleur, the radiance somewhat diminishing.
“Thanks,” she said with sincerity but slightly less enthusiasm. “We couldn’t have pulled it off without you.”
Fleur had an enigmatic smile on her face as she glanced between Harry and Ginny.
“It was nuzzing. Anyzing for ‘Arry.”
Ginny’s face darkened some more.
“Vanishing the Puking Pastille was quick thinking,” Harry praised. “That was possibly the best part.”
“Thank you,” Fleur said with a dazzling smile.
Ginny now wore a dour expression as if the outing was a complete failure.
Harry and Ginny met with Hermione and Ron outside where they could recount the events far from the sensitive ears of Mrs. Weasley. Harry’s friends were impressed but also disappointed.
“I can’t believe you didn’t let us in on this,” Ron complained. “The one time someone pulls something over on Fred and George and I don’t get to see it.”
“Harry, that was risky, going into Diagon Alley without extra protection,” Hermione lectured.
Harry’s mood was too was in too good of a mood to be brought down.
“You know I would have included you two if I could,” Harry explained. “But it was Ginny’s idea to go after the shop, and I couldn’t think of a way to bring everyone.”
“We also would have had to disguise you,” Ginny pointed out.
Ron sighed in a mixture of irritation and acceptance. “It sounded absolutely brilliant. Great job.”
“I suppose the twins did have it coming to them,” Hermione said, trying to control the smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “You can’t expect everyone to sit back and take it without ever trying to get even.”
“And Fleur,” Ron said, his eyes going out of focus, “vanishing that pastille. I didn’t know she had such a great sense of humour.”
“The French can be quite cruel,” Hermione snapped.
Two-a-side Quidditch was back on, although Hermione flew so cautiously that it was an absolute trouncing by the Weasley side.
At lunch Harry was surprised to hear Fleur compliment Mrs. Weasley’s cooking. Once they had been able to explain that toad in the hole didn’t actually include toads, Fleur had downed two helpings. Fleur had been unable to entirely remove any backhandedness from her remarks, she had praised Mrs. Weasley’s ability to “turn strange ingredients surprisingly tasty,” but Harry supposed it was movement in the right direction.
Fleur had also caught Harry staring at Ginny a few times, giving Harry a piercing glance reminiscent of Legilimency each time it happened.
After the heavy meal, the four teenagers went out to the garden to enjoy a lie-down. After a pleasant mid-afternoon nap in the sunshine, Harry excused himself to visit the bathroom. On the way back out, he remembered he might have left some candy in his trunk and went in to look for it.
Harry was bent over, rummaging around, when a shadow darkened the room. He turned to see Fleur in the doorway.
“May I come in?” she asked.
Harry nodded, his heart rate slightly increasing.
Fleur closed the door behind her. His pulse went up even higher.
She sat on the bed and patted the spot next to her. Harry’s adrenaline began pouring into his bloodstream. He stumbled over and sat down.
“Ginny?” Fleur asked, a teasing tone in her voice.
Harry looked around, making sure no one was hiding in the corner.
“Yes,” he admitted quietly. “How did you know?”
Fleur rolled her eyes. “’Arry, I am a woman, I am French, and my grandmozzer was a Veela. You, ‘ow you English say, wear your emotions on your jacket. ‘Ow long ‘ave you desired her?”
“Just a few days,” Harry said.
“Zis is excellent news!” Fleur said. “We may eventually be family. Poor Gabrielle will be disappointed of course, but she should have known she was far too young.”
“Family?” Harry said, confused.
“If you marry,” Fleur said matter-of-factly.
“Whoa!” Harry exclaimed. “I didn’t say that!”
“You do not wish to marry?”
Harry frowned. He had never thought that far ahead. His future was too encumbered; he could see nothing but Voldemort ahead.
“Someday, maybe, I just.” Harry hesitated. “I can’t think about having a normal life right now.”
Fleur frowned. “Just because zere is danger does not mean zere is no room for love.”
“It will if that love puts people in danger,” Harry said. “Anyone close to me would be a target.”
Harry slowly ran his fingers though his hair before vigorously shaking his head.
“What am I even saying! Forget marriage, forget going out with me, she doesn’t fancy me anymore! Hermione told me that she gave up on me a long time ago.”
Harry picked at a loose thread in the duvet.
“She’s seeing someone anyway. A bloke named Dean.”
Fleur sat in silence for a few seconds. Harry heard what sounded like a mouse skittering along the floorboards.
Fleur put her hand on Harry’s shoulder. “You know ‘Arry, zere is a saying in France. ‘A keeper cannot stop a skilled chaser from scoring.’”
Harry looked at her blankly.
Fleur sighed. “It means true love cannot be stopped by an existing relationship.”
“So, you think cheating is a good idea? Breaking people up?”
“No! Never! If a relationship is not true love, zen zere is nuzzing wrong wizz trying to find it wizz somebody else!”
Harry nodded. Fleur was very convincing when she needed to be, especially when she was in close physical proximity.
Fleur stood and turned to go. She hesitated and turned back.
“Good luck, Harry,” she whispered in his ear.
Every single hair on Harry’s body stood on end. She kissed his cheek and then swept out of the room.
Harry sat in thought for a few moments before stiffening his resolve. Fleur was right. If Dean and Ginny were meant to be together, then Harry wouldn’t be able to break them up anyway. On the other hand . . .
Harry was still pondering his situation when his door opened again. He looked up just in time to see Ginny’s extended wand.
“Petrificus totalus!”
Harry’s arms snapped to his sides, and his legs sprang together. Harry fell back, his entire body rigid with the top half on the mattress and his heels on the floor. A surge of panic shot through him. Why was Ginny attacking him?
Ginny quickly closed the door and cast an imperturbable charm.
She dashed over and slapped him hard on the cheek.
“YOU BASTARD!” she screamed.
She slapped him again and screamed the same thing. Then again.
Harry’s cheek was on fire. Pain tendrils spread out from the impact and burrowed deep into his face. He was utterly confused, but the pain was too intense to be able to think clearly enough to figure out what was happening.
Ginny loomed over him, radiating with fury. Her cheeks were flushed, and a wildfire burned behind her eyes. Her nostrils flared with every hyperventilating breath. The breaths gradually began to slow.
Ginny took a step back and extended her wand. “Finite Incantatem,” she whispered.
Harry slumped to the floor. He lunged for his wand.
“Stupefy!”
Harry opened his eyes to find himself laying on the floor, flat on his back. Ginny’s wand was again pointed at his head.
“Don’t. Move.” Ginny growled.
Harry could only reach one conclusion.
“Who are you?” Harry snapped. “Polyjuice or Imperious?”
Now it was Ginny’s turn to look confused. “What?”
“Ginny wouldn’t attack me,” Harry said confidently. “So, who are you?”
“Who am I? Who are you?! The Harry I thought I knew would never do this to my family!”
“What are you talking about?” Harry shouted.
“You think you can just go behind everyone’s backs like this?” Ginny was near tears. “Bill loves her, God knows why, and this is just a game to you? This is Quidditch and he’s the Keeper?”
“Ginny, I-“
Harry spied a flesh-coloured string on the floor next to him. He sighed as understanding shot into his brain. He slowly sat up. Ginny raised her wand threateningly. He gently stood with his hands raised as if she were a Muggle policeman holding him at gunpoint.
“I don’t know what you heard,” he said slowly. “Whatever it was, you’re mistaken. Fleur wasn’t talking about me and her. She was giving me advice about a girl she knows I fancy.”
Ginny’s face went slack.
“I promise I would never do that to Bill,” Harry continued, keeping his voice calm and respectful as if he were approaching a hippogriff. “You know that.”
“Oh.” It seemed as if the word involuntarily escaped her lips.
Ginny’s wand fell from her fingers. She leaned against the wall and slowly sank to the floor before burying her head in her hands where it began to shake.
Harry watched for a few seconds before sitting on the edge of the bed.
Ginny looked up bearing a blotchy, tear-streaked face.
“I don’t know what came over me,” she said. “Between what she said in the garden and what I heard just now. . .” her voice trailed off.
Why did girls always cry around Harry?
“I’m so sorry,” Ginny choked as a fresh round of tears arrived.
Whatever anger Harry had been holding onto was washed away in the torrent of weeping.
“I’m starting to regret those DA lessons,” Harry joked, trying to ease the tension. “Maybe I was too good a teacher.”
Ginny chuckled and shook her head, wiping her eyes with her hand.
“When did you learn the imperturbable charm?” he asked. “Isn’t that pretty advanced?”
“Bill taught it to me,” Ginny said dully, glancing at Harry for the briefest of seconds before continuing to stare at the opposite wall. “I am so sorry.”
Harry stood and extended his hand to her. Ginny looked at it for a second.
“So, who is it?” Ginny asked as she grabbed his hand.
“Huh?” Harry asked as he pulled her to her feet.
“The girl you fancy. Do I know her?”
Ginny stood inches away his face. Harry stood between her and the door.
Harry looked down into her bloodshot eyes. Tear trails glistened down her freckled face.
A wonderful floating feeling came over Harry. Every thought and worry in his head was gently wiped away. He vaguely remembered this feeling; it was exactly what the Imperius Curse felt like, but with one exception. He was doing this to himself, and he didn’t want to resist.
“It’s you,” he whispered as he leaned in.
Her lips were as soft and warm as he had imagined. Despite tears also being involved, it was nothing like kissing Cho. She had felt wet and clammy, like handling a Flobberworm. Ginny was like fire and flying in the rain. For the briefest moment, Harry felt her lips part and her tongue just barely -.
Ginny’s hand met his cheek again in a smack that echoed around the room.
Harry opened his eyes to find Ginny returned to her state of rage.
“How dare you!” she growled. “You know I’m with Dean! Do you think I’m that kind of girl?”
“I - “
“Who do you think you are?! Do you think I’ll just drop everything because the bloody Chosen One wants a snog?”
Harry stood shell-shocked. How had the situation gone that wrong?
Ginny shoved him aside and tried to yank open the door. It refused to budge. After a few tries, Ginny cursed and removed the imperturbable charm. She slammed the door behind her.
Harry picked up a book and hurled it with all his strength. It satisfyingly smashed into the wall. He was reaching for another object to throw when the door opened again.
“Harry?” Hermione asked. “Are you alright? What happened?”
Harry rubbed his face with his hand. He checked to make sure it was just Hermione before sinking onto his bed.
“I kissed Ginny,” he admitted, his stomach plunging into the ground.
Hermione made a noise like a car that refused to start. Harry looked up. With her wide eyes and quivering mouth, she strongly resembled a fish stuck on a hook.
Harry studied the floorboards until Hermione was able to summon a coherent thought.
“Tell me everything,” she demanded as she hopped on the bed next to him.
Harry reluctantly recounted an extremely brief synopsis.
“Oh dear,” Hermione said as she examined Harry’s throbbing cheek. “This would have been a lot easier if Ginny hadn’t started going out with Dean.”
“Why does every girl I kiss cry?” Harry grumbled. “And why does Ginny keep getting so angry with me? She’s like a deck of exploding snap cards, I never know what’s going to set her off.”
Hermione grimaced. “Well, she might be a bit emotional for another day or two. Your timing really is abysmal. She’s going through a lot right now.”
“More than knowing she has to face Voldemort?” Harry mumbled.
Hermione looked at Harry with sympathy. “I know it’s not easy for you. It’s not easy for her either. You’re a boy she’s been pining after for ages. She finally accepts that you may never be interested in her that way, and she moves on. Then, you finally show her attention when she’s already with another boy she likes. I’m sure she hasn’t completely given up on you, but she doesn’t want to throw Dean over and leap at you just because you showed a hint of attraction.”
Hermione sighed. “Add Fleur in the mix and you’ve got a recipe for emotional upheaval.”
Harry looked at Hermione. “I need help. What do I do?”
Hermione nodded and furrowed her brow in thought. “Well, I suppose the best thing to do is wait for her to calm down and then . . . pursue her.”
“Pursue her?”
“Make it clear you are actually interested in her and not just wanting a cheap snog.” Hermione looked at Harry doubtfully. “You are actually interested in her, right?”
Harry nodded. “But what about Dean?”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “Harry, they’re writing letters to each other, not getting married.”
Harry contemplated this for a few seconds. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll do it. Pursue her, I mean.”
“Oh, I’m so excited for you two!” Hermione squealed, clapping her hands in excitement. “I’ve been hoping for this for so long!”
Hermione lunged at Harry and wrapped him in a bear-hug. Unprepared for the assault, Harry toppled over sideways as Hermione giggled in an un-Hermione-like fashion.
A strangled cry came from the doorway. Ron glared at the two of them tangled together on Harry’s mattress. For the second time in the last five minutes, a beet-red Weasley slammed the door and thundered down the stairs.
Chapter 5: Chapter 5 - Discussion
Hermione rapidly untangled herself and darted into the hallway.“Ron, wait!” she called.
“OH NO YOU DON’T!”
Harry jolted as Mrs. Weasley’s voice rose through the floorboards.
“I HAVE HAD IT WITH THE SLAMMING DOORS AND THE STOMPING AND THE RUNNING! RON, GINNY, GET IN HERE AND HELP WITH DINNER!”
Harry tip-toed to the door. Hermione stood in the stairway, motioning Harry to follow her downstairs. As they arrived in the kitchen, Mrs. Weasley was continuing to scold her children.
“How can we help, Mrs. Weasley?” Hermione offered.
Mrs. Weasley looked up. “Oh, that’s alright dear, there’s not enough room in the kitchen for everyone. Ginny and Ron can practise being good hosts.”
Ron’s eyes shot daggers at Harry and Hermione. Ginny didn’t look up from the silverware she was laying out with unnecessary precision.
“Let’s go outside,” Harry whispered.
“But-“ Hermione protested.
Harry grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the exit. This earned an extra scowl from Ron.
“Oh, no, this is awful!” Hermione exclaimed as she wrung her hands outside. She chewed feverishly on a fingernail.
“What is awful?” Fleur asked as she walked up with a small basket full of cabbage.
“Nothing,” Hermione said quickly.
“Ron thinks Hermione and I are together,” Harry explained as he skipped a stone across the pond.
Hermione whirled around and gaped at Harry, betrayal etched on her features. Harry ignored her and selected another rock.
Fleur let out a tittering laugh. “’Ow in the world did that ‘appen?”
“Hermione was excited about Ginny and I and gave me a hug right as Ron walked in,” Harry said as he whipped a stone at the water. It skipped three times.
“Ginny and I?” Fleur asked. “So, you are togezzer?”
“Not exactly,” Harry admitted. “She slapped me.”
“Oh, poor ‘Arry,” Fleur said, grabbing his chin and examining his still-red cheek.
Hermione rolled her eyes.
Two cracks sounded as Bill and Mr. Weasley arrived.
Bill kissed Fleur, and Mr. Weasley greeted Harry and Hermione with a tired smile.
“You’re home early,” Hermione said.
“My wife wanted to have a family meal tonight,” Mr. Weasley explained.
They walked inside where they were met by a still-glowering Ron and a Ginny who refused to make eye contact. After Mrs. Weasley finished the preparations, everyone sat down.
“How was work?” Mrs. Weasley asked as she dished mashed potatoes onto Harry’s plate.
“Dramatic,” Mr. Weasley said with a chuckle as he tucked in.
“You-Know-Who?” Mrs. Weasley said, frightened.
“No,” Mr. Weasley replied through a mouthful of chicken. “Dramatic in a different way. Reginald Cattermole caught Peter Podmore kissing Penny Haywood in a closet in the Department of Magical Games and Sports.”
“Penny Haywood?” Bill frowned. “She was in my class. Isn’t she married to Anderson? That doesn’t really sound like her.”
“That’s why it was so dramatic,” Mr. Weasley replied. “I think everyone was excited to have something to talk about that didn’t revolve around You-Know-Who.”
Harry guiltily looked over at Ginny. She glanced up, and they locked eyes for the briefest of seconds before Ginny quickly redirected her gaze down at her food. Harry saw Hermione grimacing.
“You Eenglish are so funny,” Fleur said. “Imagine making such a fuss over a man kissing his lover.”
Mrs. Weasley’s eye twitched. She pursed her lips and examined Bill closely for a few seconds before taking a drink of water.
“I can’t believe Penny,” Mrs. Weasley tutted as she cut into her piece of chicken. “Stepping out like that.”
“Maybe it wasn’t Penny’s fault,” Ginny spoke up, still not looking up from her plate. “Maybe Podmore just grabbed her.”
Mrs. Weasley set her utensils down. “What have I told you, Ginny? It’s a woman’s responsibility not to put herself in situations like that.”
Hermione huffed.
Ron viciously stabbed a cooked carrot. “It probably was all Penny’s idea, and she wasn’t as innocent as she let on.”
“What if Cattermole misread the situation and stormed out before they could explain?” Hermione snapped.
Ron slammed his fork on his plate. “Stupid Cattermole, always misreading things!”
“Ron!” Mrs. Weasley roared. “I don’t know what has gotten into everyone, but we are having a pleasant, civilized meal together, and we will act POLITE!”
The topic of conversation quickly changed to the pleasant weather outside, and the rest of the meal passed in safety. After dinner was over, Bill and Mr. Weasley gave Harry an update in the living room on the latest disappearances, odd accidents, and deaths while Ron and Ginny cleaned up.
Hermione sat in an armchair, nervously twisting the tassels on a crocheted blanket while the men talked. When Ron walked through, Hermione jumped up to try to speak with him. He stormed past without a word. Hermione followed him upstairs. Harry could hear her continuing to try to speak to him, but Ron’s door soon slammed, followed by the sound of footsteps coming back down the stairs and entering the bathroom.
“Is something the matter with Ron?” Mr. Weasley asked with a frown.
“It’s a long story,” Harry said, wondering how he could speak to his friend when an idea occurred to him.
“Bill?” Harry asked. “Would you do me a favor?”
“Depends,” Bill replied with a wry smile. “Am I going to have to get involved in whatever is going on?”
“Can you convince Ron to come outside and talk to me?”
Bill ran his hand down his ponytail and nodded. Harry went outside by the pond to wait for Ron, who appeared a few minutes later. He slowly walked over to Harry and stood next to him, staring off into the distance with his arms folded around his chest.
“I know what it looked like,” Harry began, “and I understand why you thought what you thought, but it wasn’t like that.”
Ron scoffed.
“You’re acting like you did during the Triwizard Tournament,” Harry snapped. “You know I wouldn’t lie to you.”
Ron scuffed his foot in the dirt. After a few seconds, he looked over at Harry. “Fine. You have one minute.”
Harry sighed. “Hermione was excited because she found out I fancy a girl. Not her, someone else. She was happy for me and gave me a hug and we lost our balance. That’s all.”
“You expect me to believe that?” Ron scoffed. “You’ve been running around whispering in corners ever since you got here. Hermione can’t shut up about how handsome you are. Do you think I’m stupid?”
Harry fought to control his temper. “No, I don’t think you’re stupid, that’s why I expect you to believe that. Do you really think I’d risk my friendship with you? You’re my best mate. Hermione’s my friend; I don’t fancy her. She’s like my sister.”
This admission stunned Ron. A fleeting gleam of something like triumph shone in Ron’s eyes.
“It’s not important, but we were arguing about how Hermione was spying on me when I was in the orchard with Fleur.”
Ron inhaled sharply. “Harry, the girl you fancy “ it’s “ it’s not Fleur, is it?”
Harry rolled his eyes. “No.”
Ron plopped on the ground. Harry sat next to him.
“I’m sorry, mate,” Ron said as he pulled blades of grass from the earth. “I walked in and saw you there on the bed and just . . . saw red I guess.”
“Forget about it.”
Ron turned to Harry. “So, who is it?”
“What?”
“The girl you fancy.”
Harry froze. He saw Ron shoving him into the pond, shouting things like “betrayal of trust” . . . “supposed to be my friend.”
“She’s a Gryffindor, right?” Ron asked.
Harry continued to try to think of something to say.
“Oh, she’s not a Slytherin is she?” Ron’s face fell. “I mean, Daphne Greengrass is fit I suppose, but mate, she’s in Slytherin!”
“It’s not Daphne!” Harry replied. “She’s in Gryffindor.”
“Parvati?”
Harry shook his head. “She’s not in our year.”
Ron snapped his fingers. “Ginny!”
Harry’s blood ran cold.
“Does Ginny know her?” Ron continued.
“Yeah, I guess Ginny would know her,” Harry prevaricated. “Look, I’d rather not say.”
“You told Hermione, but you won’t tell me?”
“I needed Hermione’s advice, and I don’t even know if the girl likes me. Look, if it goes anywhere, I’ll tell you.”
Ron finally accepted this, and they sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes until they were joined by Hermione. Ron stuttered through a brief apology. Hermione accepted it stoically, but Harry saw a deep and genuine smile when Ron wasn’t looking.
After brushing his teeth that night, Harry was surprised to walk back into his bedroom and find Hermione rearranging his pillows.
“What’s going on?” Harry asked.
“We need to talk about Ginny,” Hermione said as she sat down on a box.
“About what?” Harry replied suspiciously.
Hermione shook her head in slight annoyance. “Harry, you don’t need me to tell you that your last relationship was far from ideal.”
Harry sighed as he sat. “Alright, fine. Let’s talk.”
“So, you fancy Ginny now. Why?”
“Why?”
“Why now?”
Harry exhaled a long breath and cocked his head in thought. “Well, I suppose she’s fun to be around, I guess.”
Hermione scowled at Harry. “She’s fun to be around? Harry, Hagrid is fun to be around for you. The Snitch is fun to be around for you.” She folded her arms. “Be honest, do you think she’s pretty?”
Harry felt his face heat up a little. “Yeah, obviously she’s pretty. I don’t really feel comfortable talking about this sort of thing.”
“Well, too bad.” Hermione wore a determined expression. “You are rubbish at understanding and articulating your emotions, so you’re going to practice. What do you think is pretty about her?”
Harry groaned. There didn’t seem to be any possibility of getting rid of Hermione so he decided to be honest.
“Her hair is nice,” he began haltingly. “I like watching it when she flies. And her eyes are really pretty. I like looking at them. I don’t know, she’s just pretty, can we move on?”
“Fine. What do you like about her besides her appearance? That’s all that you ever saw in Cho., and it was not a lasting foundation.”
Harry flopped down on his back and stared at the ceiling. “She’s brave. Determined. She helped us out in the Ministry even though it was dangerous, and I tried to tell her to go back.”
“Brave and determined. Harry, you’re just describing Gryffindor. Be specific.”
Harry slammed his hands into his duvet. “She’s funny, she makes me laugh, she’s great at impressions.”
Harry took a breath and continued. “She’s an amazing Chaser, I spend too much time watching her when she’s flying and not enough time paying attention to anything else.”
Harry’s voice grew faster and faster. “She’s loyal. She cares about her family and will do whatever it takes to protect them. Even when she spied on me and then attacked me earlier, I didn’t really care because I knew she was doing it for her family, and I want her to be on my side that much. Being close to her makes me feel weird, and not in a weird way like Cho but in a good way.”
The words continued to gush out. “When I’m around her or thinking about her, I don’t worry about Voldemort and I’m just happy! Is that what you wanted to hear?”
Harry looked over at Hermione who was covering her mouth with her hand.
“Oh my goodness,” Hermione gasped. “I didn’t realize you were that . . . I probably shouldn’t have . . .”
Hermione jumped to her feet and reached at the head of the bed.
“What are you doing?” Harry demanded hotly.
Hermione grabbed the end of an Extendable Ear and quickly wrapped up the cord in her hand.
“Hermione,” Harry sputtered. “You didn’t.”
Hermione fled to the hallway. Harry dashed after her but collided with Mrs. Weasley as she was walking by with a hamper full of laundry. Harry was knocked to the ground, while the sturdy Mrs. Weasley was only driven back a step.
Harry quickly stood, apologizing profusely. Mrs. Weasley graciously accepted the request for forgiveness, but by the time the interaction was over, Hermione was already safely ensconced in her room. Glowering, Harry returned to his bed. How much had Ginny heard?
Harry tossed and turned for several hours with a pit in his stomach until he was finally able to drift off.
The next morning thankfully brought no sign of either Ginny or Hermione. Ron and Harry practiced Quidditch penalties for a few hours until lunchtime. As they were scarfing down bacon sandwiches, Ginny appeared.
Ginny made brief eye contact with Harry and then looked meaningfully outside. She grabbed a sandwich and went out the door.
Harry stood and stretched.
“I think I’m going to go for a walk in the garden,” Harry said, hoping Ron wouldn’t want to follow.
“Suit yourself,” Ron said as he reached for another sandwich.
Harry hurried out the door and quickly caught up with Ginny.
“You must think I’m mental,” Ginny said with a rueful smile.
Harry shook his head. “I don’t think that.”
“Sometimes I do,” Ginny replied.
They walked in silence for a few more minutes.
“I didn’t know what Hermione was going to do,” Ginny said. “I promise. I walked into my room and there was a note next to the Extendable Ear that told me to listen.”
“That sounds like Hermione,” Harry said. “At least the way she’s been acting lately. She’s trying so hard to help that she’s causing more problems than she’s solving.”
Ginny glanced slyly at Harry. “Maybe. Maybe not. I’m not going to lie; I did listen.”
Harry grimaced but said nothing. Hermione had said that he didn’t understand his emotions, and she was right. Everything inside was a roiling mess of anxiety, desire, and frustration.
“I think it was the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said about me.” Ginny paused and plucked an apple. “Do you want one?”
“Sure.”
Ginny took an apple from the tree and gave it to Harry.
“I sent a letter to Dean this morning,” Ginny said softly, tossing her apple from hand to hand. “I broke up with him. It wasn’t going to work out, and I didn’t want to lead him on.”
A surge of hope shot through Harry’s chest.
Ginny quickly looked at Harry. “Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t leave him for you.”
The hope quickly deflated.
“I just . . . I don’t know what to do,” Ginny continued. “I’ve never been this confused before. It’s not that I don’t like you, as a friend, but my schoolgirl crush is gone. I’m not a little girl anymore.”
“I noticed,” Harry thought.
“I shouldn’t move between boys that fast,” Ginny added. “Ron’s a prat, but he’s right. You can get a reputation as a ““ Ginny paused as she searched for the right word “ “scarlet woman.”
Harry was unable to control a chuckle. Ginny backhanded him on the shoulder.
“Shut up, I couldn’t think of a better word.”
Harry remained silent and devoured his apple.
“Maybe one day -” Ginny started before trailing off and failing to complete the sentence.
She took a bite of her apple.
“I don’t want this to ruin our summer,” Ginny finally said. “Let’s have fun, and forget this ever happened. Deal?”
She offered her hand to Harry.
Harry slowly nodded. “Deal.”
He shook her hand.
Chapter 6: Chapter 6 - Resolution
After Hermione finally emerged, the four of them played Quidditch for a few hours. After several games, Harry and Hermione took a break while Ron and Ginny practiced penalties.“Harry,” Hermione began as they watched the Weasleys duel above them. “You know I was trying to help.”
Harry grinned wryly. “Trying, yes. Succeeding, no.”
Hermione frowned. “I know. I’m sorry things have gotten out of hand.”
Harry studied Ginny as she executed a complicated barrel roll followed by a behind the back finish that left Ron completely bewildered. The apple sailed through the left ring as Ron flew the opposite direction.
“Hermione, I know you care about me, and I normally trust your judgment. You’ve been acting a little off all summer.”
Harry redirected his eyes towards Hermione’s downcast countenance.
“You’ve been trying too hard to make Ginny and I work out. Is that because you’re trying to make up for a lack of something else happening?”
Harry raised his eyebrows and tilted his head at Ron.
Hermione tinged pink. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I think Ginny would be good for you, and you would be good for her, that’s all.”
“Really?” Harry said sceptically. “Because it feels like my friend got replaced with a columnist from Witch Weekly.”
Hermione tossed grass at Harry. “I have not been that bad.”
Harry laughed before his mood turned slightly sombre. He picked at the lawn. “She said she just wants to be friends.”
“I figured. At least she broke up with Dean.”
“You knew about that?”
“I helped her write the letter. Just give it time.”
Harry lay back on the grass and watched Ginny’s hair stream in the wind.
“Time,” he muttered.
The next two weeks were as happy and peaceful as Harry had originally hoped for, except for the depressing news appearing in the Daily Prophet or brought home by Bill and Mr. Weasley.
Things between Ginny and him had stabilized. Hanging around with her quickly lost any awkwardness, at least so long as Ron or Hermione were there as well. Harry grew accustomed to her presence and quite liked the dynamic she brought to the group.
He calculated her personality as 20 percent Mrs. Weasley, 30 percent Fred and George, 25 percent Ron, 10 percent Bill, 5 percent Charlie, 0 percent Percy, and 10 percent something else entirely.
On the morning of his birthday, Harry was awoken from a delightful dream involving Ginny by a pair of hands roughly shaking him.
“Mate, you alright?” Ron asked.
Harry opened his eyes to find blurry versions of his two best friends standing over him.
“Were you dreaming or having a vision?” Hermione asked worriedly.
“You kept moaning something about Ginny,” Ron added with a concerned look on his face.
“Oh, uh,” Harry searched for an alibi. “I was just dreaming about the Chamber of Secrets again. Thanks for waking me up.”
Ron and Hermione sat down on some boxes while Harry hurriedly adjusted the bed covers.
“Happy birthday!” Ron said as he tossed Harry a small card. “It’s not your real gift, just something small I was going to give you.”
“It’s not just from Ron,” Hermione added, shooting Ron a dirty look.
“Oh, right,” Ron added. “Hermione added something.”
Harry opened it to find a signed Oliver Wood Quidditch card, and a short pamphlet on common curses and jinxes along with corresponding ways to block or mitigate them.
“Thanks,” Harry said as Oliver Wood waved to him while wearing his Puddlemere United kit.
A delicious smell wafted into the room.
“Mum’s making you a birthday breakfast,” Ron said with a smile. He stood and tapped Harry on the shoulder. “Let’s go!”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “That’s the real reason he woke you up. She won’t serve anyone until you come downstairs.”
The afternoon was spent preparing and decorating for a birthday dinner. Bill and Mr. Weasley came home early from work again, and Remus Lupin stopped by, looking gaunt and grim, his brown hair streaked liberally with gray, his clothes more ragged and patched than ever.
“I’ve got some news,” he announced as he arrived. “But it should wait until after the cake.”
Everyone eating around the large outdoor table was surprised when the twins arrived.
“Did you close up the shop?” Bill asked.
“Of course, we wouldn’t miss this for the world,” Fred said grimly.
“Happy Birthday, Harry,” George said, smiling widely as he placed a polka-dot package on the table.
Harry shot Ginny a worried look.
Bill quaffed the last of the wine in his glass before Fleur quickly refilled it. He looked over to see Fred and George strolling through the orchard. George locked eyes with Bill and beckoned him over.
“I’d better see what this is all about,” Bill muttered to Fleur as he wandered over to the twins.
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t our traitorous brother,” Fred said as he pointed his wand at an apple tree and cast something under his breath.
“We really don’t know how to thank you for setting that interview up,” George added, tossing a small object at the base of another tree.
Bill shook his head. “Leave me out of this, I was barely involved.”
Fred’s smile was slightly feral. “We’re prepared to offer a truce. You helped them prank us; you help us prank them, everyone is square. We need you to start an argument about who is a faster flier, Harry or Ginny.”
“And then when the argument is in full swing, summon two brooms and have them race through the orchard.” George said.
Bill looked over at Harry who was warily observing the conversation.
“It won’t work,” Bill said. “They’ll never fall for anything like that as long as you two are here.”
Fred produced a small phial of clear liquid from his pocket.
“What is that?” Bill asked.
“You’re familiar with our love potions,” George explained. “How we included behaviour inhibitors?”
Fred shook the phial.
“This is “ let’s call it a behaviour exhibitor.” George continued. “Have you ever wanted to tell off your boss but didn’t because of the consequences?”
“Or wanted to go chat up that nice-looking witch but were too worried about her rejecting you?” Fred asked.
Bill laughed. “Mate, have you seen my fiancé?”
“Well, anyway, you get our point.” George said. “This reduces your inhibitions, so you aren’t worried about anything except what you really want to do deep down.”
Bill took the phial and examined it. “You invented alcohol. Congratulations. What’s your point?”
“We haven’t marketed it because we had no idea how to use it,” Fred explained. “But we just thought of a use.”
“What does Harry really like to do?” George asked.
“Fly,” Bill answered, immediately understanding where the twins were going with this.
“And Ginny?”
“Fly.”
“And what inhibitions would keep them from flying?”
“Being afraid they were going to be pranked.” Bill sighed. “You want me to slip this to them, so they’ll agree to your little flying contest.”
“Knew you were Head Boy for a reason,” George said as he slapped Bill on the back.
“Two drops in each glass,” Fred said. “It should kick in after exactly two minutes, and last for exactly two.”
“Long enough for them to fly into a giant pie or whatever you have cooked up,” Bill said with an air of resignation. “Fine, this makes us level.”
The three of them rejoined the discussion around the table, with Harry and Ginny remaining in a constant state of vigilance towards the twins. After waiting a short while, Bill proposed a toast to Harry and summoned glasses for everyone.
“To Harry!” Bill called as everyone raised their glasses. Everyone echoed him. “To Harry!”
Bill threw back his glass and watched as Ginny did as well. Harry narrowed his eyes at the twins but swallowed his after a few seconds.
“So, Ginny,” Bill said. “You’ve caught the snitch a few times. How are you at flying compared to Harry?”
The conversation quickly turned into a debate, with both Harry and Ginny extolling the virtues of the other as a flyer.
“There’s only one way to find out,” Bill interjected, summoning two brooms from the shed.
“Why don’t you fly down through the orchard, around the beech tree at the end, and back. First one back is the winner,” George said as he hauled Harry to his feet and frog-marched him over the brooms.
Fred pulled Ginny up and over to the brooms as well.
The twins sat back down as Harry and Ginny glanced nervously between the brooms and Fred and George.
“How stupid do you think we are?” Ginny asked. “This is obviously a trap.”
“Yeah, I don’t know about this,” Harry added.
Bill noticed Fred glance at his watch and start mouthing a countdown to George. “Five, four, three, two “ “
Bill redirected his gaze back at Ginny. A dreamy look came over her face. She looked down at the broom and then back to Harry, a hard, blazing look in her eye.
“Here we go,” Fred whispered to George.
Ginny wrapped her arms around Harry and pulled him into a deep kiss.
Bill’s heart dropped into his dragonhide boots as his mother put her hand over her heart and shrieked. He looked down at the phial with growing horror.
“Is this love potion?” he bellowed at the twins, who were staring wide-eyed at the scene unfolding in front of them. “DID YOU GIVE THEM LOVE POTION?” He started to charge at Fred and George, but Fleur grabbed his shoulder in an iron grip.
Harry stood shell-shocked for a moment before fully engaging in the embrace. Ginny jumped and wrapped her legs around Harry’s waist as the kiss deepened. Her fingers ran through his messy, dark hair. Harry’s hands wandered down onto the backside of her jeans.
Fury surged through Bill’s veins, both at the boy who was manhandling his little sister and at his brothers who had caused it to happen. His mother’s shrieking went up a few octaves.
“Quelle joie!” Fleur exclaimed, refusing to let go of Bill’s shoulder. “It is so beautiful!”
The kiss had started right as Ron took a large drink of water which he was now choking on. He was rapidly turning purple from lack of oxygen as he collapsed to his knees, eyes bulging like a frog.
Remus looked frantically around, wordlessly begging someone to intervene. He twitched as though he wanted to disapparate on the spot. Hermione sat motionless, her hands gripping the arms of her chair so hard that her knuckles were white.
Bill’s father stared both at the couple and a thousand yards through them as though he had just received the news that a dear friend had passed. He ignored his wife slapping his shoulder and calling his name.
Coming to their senses, the twins dashed over and separated the snogging duo. George tackled Harry to the ground and sat on his chest. Fred picked up Ginny from behind, her legs kicking the air.
Clarity slowly returned to Harry’s mind, the dreamlike fog disappearing from his brain. Horror struck him harder than a bludger as George slowly stood and stepped back.
Silence filled the garden before Bill angrily shattered the quiet.
“You had me give them love potion!” Bill yelled at the twins, holding up a small glass phial that flashed in the sunlight. “This was your idea of a joke?”
Mrs. Weasley gasped and reached for her wand.
“It’s not love potion!” Fred bellowed. He looked at the phial then meaningfully at George.
“Well, what was it?” Mrs. Weasley snapped.
George was green and looked like he was going to be sick on the grass. He cleared his throat.
“It reduces your inhibitions. It gives you the courage to do something you really want to . . .” His voice trailed off.
Every Weasley gazed at Harry with dawning comprehension. Harry looked at Ron, jaw dropped to his chest, and then over at Mr. Weasley who was blinking in a manner reminiscent of someone who had been Confunded.
Harry covered his face with his hands and remained on the lawn. He wanted to sink even deeper into the ground, all the way to the earth’s core, never to be seen by human eyes again. The entire world went muffled, and Harry could hear his pulse thundering through his ears. The faint noise of Ginny shouting reached him, and he looked up to see Fred and George’s face covered with green flapping bat-bogeys.
“Enough!”
Harry had never heard Mr. Weasley raise his voice before, and, based on everyone else’s shock, it was a fairly rare occurrence.
“Fred, George,” Mr. Weasley continued in a barely-contained tone. “I think you had better get back to the shop.”
Two cracks sounded as the twins instantly complied.
“It’s getting late,” Remus added, looking up at the blazing sun still high in the sky. “Molly, thank you for dinner. It was delicious.” He immediately departed as well.
“I know zat was a shock,” Fleur declared proudly, “but zey are so perfect togezzer.”
Mrs. Weasley frowned at Fleur, but Harry could have sworn there was a moment of satisfaction instantly masked behind her look of disapproval.
“Let’s go inside, Ron,” Hermione said, grasping a protesting Ron by the elbow.
Ron shot Harry a look that promised a future conversation.
“Arthur, Bill, Fleur, would you help me clean up?” Mrs. Weasley said as she busily began to stack dishes with her wand. “I’m sure Harry and Ginny could use a walk to settle down from whatever nonsense potion the twins gave them.”
She pointed her wand at Bill. “And we need to talk about the role you played in all this.”
Mrs. Weasley turned back to Harry and Ginny. “Run along now.”
Harry was more than happy to comply, and it appeared Ginny was as well. With a brisk walk verging on a jog, they quickly left the Burrow behind and walked deep into the garden.
“I-I don’t know what to say,” Harry began falteringly.
“I do,” Ginny said, stopping and turning to Harry with that same blazing look in her eyes as before. “It was the best kiss I ever had, and I owe Fred and George.”
“What?” Harry was flabbergasted. Hope bloomed within his chest.
“I fancy you,” Ginny continued, looking away from him. “I always have. I never really gave up on you, not really. I always hoped. . . . Hermione told me to get on with life, maybe go out with some other people, relax a bit around you, because I never used to be able to talk if you were in the room, remember? And she thought you might take a bit more notice if I was a bit more ” myself.”
Harry smiled. “She’s a smart girl. And to think, I was giving her abuse this morning for trying to help. I guess she’s been helping us out longer than I realized.”
Ginny walked up to Harry and looked him in the eyes. “I’ve been a little bit of a cow to you. I’m sorry. That just made me realize something.” Her gaze grew steely. “I want to do this.”
Harry stared deep into her bright brown eyes, the same ones that had stared at him through a crack in the door the first time he had visited the Burrow.
“What about Dean?” Harry whispered.
“We went to Hogsmeade together once,” Ginny replied. “He’s going to be fine.”
“Aren’t you worried what people are going to say?” Harry asked.
Ginny grinned. “Sod ‘em.” She leaned in for another kiss.
A few happy minutes later, Harry and Ginny walked back to the Burrow, hand in hand. They walked past Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Bill, and Fleur, who were still busy taking down decorations. Mrs. Weasley smiled at them as they passed. Fleur beamed and blew a kiss.
“I guess she’s not too bad,” Ginny muttered.
Mr. Weasley looked conflicted but waved politely. Bill ominously brandished his wand until Fleur backhanded him in the chest.
“Are you together now?” Hermione excitedly asked as they entered the house.
“Yes,” Harry grinned, unable to control his smile as Ginny squeezed his hand.
Hermione squealed and dashed over to wrap both of them in a hug. Ron hung back and met Harry’s eyes for a fraction of a second. Ron gave a tiny jerk of the head and sat down.
EPILOGUE:
As they ate breakfast, the four of them discussed the meaning of Malfoy’s behavior in Knockturn Alley.
“Harry’s right, sounds like he’s a Death Eater to me,” Ginny agreed as she shovelled scrambled eggs into her mouth.
“I wonder why you agree with Harry,” Ron said, rolling his eyes.
The four of them argued for a few more minutes until they went outside for more Quidditch.
“Actually, I think Ginny and I will sit this one out,” Harry said, grabbing Ginny’s hand and walking back toward the Burrow.
“What are you talking about?” Ron demanded. “We need all the training we can get before school starts.”
“Ron, how did your apple juice taste this morning?” Ginny said with an evil grin.
“What?” Ron asked, dumbfounded.
Harry produced a glass phial from his pocket and shook it in the sunlight. “I got this from Fred and George. A little apology.”
“You didn’t!” Hermione gasped, horrified.
“Bye!” Ginny called over her shoulder as they rushed inside. Ginny and Harry hurried up to the window in her room. Ginny grabbed the Omnioculars as Harry watched Ron and Hermione through the window.
“They’re arguing about something,” Ginny announced. “Hermione is turning to come inside, Ron’s grabbing her “ there we go! You want to watch?”
“No, not really,” Harry said, turning from the window. “It looks like our plan worked. I don’t need to see the grisly details.”
“Your plan was perfect,” Ginny said, twisting the replay knob on the side of the Omnioculars. “Looks like it finally gave Ron the courage he needed.”
A few minutes later, footsteps thundered on the stairs on the way to Ginny’s room. An angry Ron burst inside, followed closely by a beet-red Hermione who was unable to repress a smile.
“You’re a git!” Ron shouted, pointing furiously at Harry and then at Ginny. “And you helped him!”
“Didn’t you want to kiss Hermione?” Ginny asked innocently.
Ron faltered and glanced back at Hermione. Her smile faltered. He turned back to them.
“Of bloody course I did! I’ve wanted to kiss her for years!”
Hermione smiled so wide that her face was in danger of cracking open.
“But I wanted to do it, not some potion! You took my first kiss with the girl I love away from me!”
Harry’s eyebrows rose to his hairline as he looked over at Ginny. She was frozen in shock at Ron’s admission. Hermione swayed and grasped the doorframe for support.
“Ron,” Harry said when he recovered from the shock. “I did get this from the twins, but you should look at it.”
He tossed the phial over to Ron. Ron examined it closely.
“It’s still full,” he said slowly.
Hermione hurriedly inspected it as well. “It’s still sealed with wax.”
Harry smiled triumphantly. “The potion didn’t make you do that. You did it all yourself.”
Ron gaped at him and then turned to Hermione. He puffed out his chest.
“Look at that,” he said proudly.
Hermione smiled in return. “Better late than never.”
She kissed him as Ginny and Harry groaned in mock disgust