Hey, thanks to everyone who nominated this story for the DSTAs!
We'd like to thank Leiselily, who gave us the British menu for the lunchtime picnic, and of course, to Chreechree, for everything.
Only one more chapter to go!
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The Unforgettable Forgotten Birthday | ||||||
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Category: Alternate Universe Characters:All, All, Harry/Ginny, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley Genres: Fluff, General, Humor Warnings: None Story is Complete Rating: PG-13 Reviews: 168 Summary: It wasn’t everyday that a girl turned sixteen years old, but in the midst of the confusion brought about by eccentric relatives, odious cousins and commando gnomes gone berserk, no one in Ginny’s family seems to have remembered the important occasion! However, there was still hope… will one special boy actually make this forgotten birthday an unforgettable one? Hitcount: Story Total: 32653; Chapter Total: 8017 Awards: View Trophy Room Author's Notes: |
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Ginny pulled her denim shorts over her swimming costume and went down to the living room to wait for Hermione. She shut her eyes and could not help but smile as she let herself relive the events that had just taken place upstairs. She reflected on the way Harry’s gaze had lingered on her and on his unconvincing reply to Ron’s insistence that their mother would not approve of her new suit. She considered the way he nervously avoided her eyes as she ushered him from her room. Could Hermione be right? Was it possible that, after all this time, Harry was actually interested in her? After a few minutes, she heard the bathroom door squeak open. She expected to hear her friend’s gentle tread on the rickety stairs but was surprised when it did not come. Curious, she poked her head into the stairwell. “Thank you, Ron,” Hermione said softly. Ginny could practically hear Hermione’s blush in her voice. “You’re welcome,” Ron replied just as quietly, his voice deeper than normal. “It’s…well…it’s something I should have told you a long time ago.” Ginny quickly removed her head from the stairway and headed outside. She did not want to eavesdrop on this particular private conversation. If Ron had managed to be less of a git than he normally was, Ginny had a feeling that Hermione would not be seeking her company for quite some time. As she opened the back door, she felt it hit someone who appeared to be lurking on the back porch. “Ow!” Ginny peered around the door. “Tonks?” she asked hesitantly, as a stream of curse words filled the air. “Shh!” the young Auror hissed frantically from her crouched position, one hand rubbing the side of her face. Her hair was now the same shade of green as the leaves of the begonias she was peering out of. “Keep your voice down, will you?” “What are you doing behind that potted plant?” “I’m hiding from that pest of a cousin of yours, Sherman!” said Tonks. She stood up and frowned at Ginny. “Now, Tonks. I bet a dose of the Sherman Love Machine is just what you need,” Ginny said with a smirk. Tonks rolled her eyes and huffed angrily. “Good grief! You won’t believe what that little tosser said to me in front of half the Order!” Ginny shook her head, grinning broadly. “I can just imagine.” “You have no idea,” groaned Tonks. “So, your twit of a cousin marches up to me in the middle of my conversation with Minerva and plants his uninvited, scrawny little arse right between the two of us. Minerva was so shocked that she looked like she’d been hit with a Full-Body Bind.” Ginny giggled softly as the image of a frozen, open-mouthed Professor McGonagall presented itself. “And then, Sherman goes on and says in that ridiculously girly voice of his, ‘Can I take your picture?’, and I said ‘Why?’, and then he says ‘Because I want Father Christmas to know exactly what I want under my tree this year’!” Tonks threw up her hands in disgust. Ginny began laughing loudly, causing Tonks to glare at her. “It’s not funny!” Tonks stamped her foot. “Merlin, I’m never going to hear the end of this from Moody and Kingsley. And Remus! I’m going to hex that old werewolf’s bits when I catch him!” “What—” Ginny managed to wheeze out in between giggles, “—what did Professor Lupin do?” “The fool told Sherman that he’d gladly give him a photograph of me!” said Tonks crossly. “For free!” she added in an outraged voice, making Ginny laugh even harder than ever. After Tonks had ranted for several more minutes about what she was going to do to Professor Lupin and his furry little bum, she said good-bye to Ginny and Disapparated, saying that she was going to go hunt down Remus at Grimmauld Place, right after she checked the Death Eater situation over at Gloucester and Somerset. Ginny jumped off the porch, skipping all the steps, and landed on the gravel path that led to the pond. She walked slowly, enjoying the feel of the rocks under her feet and the warmth of the summer sun. She stopped for a moment and turned her face heavenward, smiling, scrunching the gravel between her toes as she did so. What did it matter that only Hermione had remembered her birthday? It was an absolutely gorgeous day, and it was quite possible that the absolutely gorgeous Harry Potter had finally noticed that she was a girl. Ginny granted some form of release to the excitement that was building in her and ran, carefree, down the path. The sun glinted off the placid surface of the pond. Pausing only long enough to wriggle out of her shorts, and to take note that she was the first one to arrive at the pond, Ginny dove headfirst into the cool, inviting water. She swam several laps, feeling lean and powerful as she forced herself to circle the pond as fast as she could, enjoying the way the muscles in her shoulders and legs burned from the effort. She reached the deepest part in no time. As she treaded water, she took pleasure in the gentle chirping of the birds and the soft rustling of some gnomes as they wandered through the thick grass surrounding the pond. She was beginning to wonder if anyone would join her when she heard the sounds of people approaching. She realised that only Harry and Cleo had come to the pond. Ginny smirked, apparently her brother and Hermione had found other ways to distract themselves. Ron was not quite as thick as she had thought. Ginny turned to face the path and saw that Harry had entered the clearing, Cleo hanging on to his arm. Ginny frowned as she caught sight of the slightly bewildered expression on Harry’s face, and then widened her eyes in shocked embarrassment when she saw her cousin. Cleo appeared to be wearing a bathing costume that solely consisted of two pieces of yellow yarn. Ginny had never seen anything like it. No wonder Harry appeared to have been run over by a herd of hippogriffs. She momentarily forgot to move her arms and legs and sank rapidly under the surface of the water. The water in her lungs served to bring her back to reality, and she came up sputtering. She struggled to the rock ledge on the east side of the pond and clung to it, trying to catch her breath. Harry, in his Gryffindor scarlet swimming trunks, freed himself from Cleo’s clutches and hurried over to peer into the pond. “Ginny? Are you okay?” he asked quickly. “Yeah,” Ginny said, still coughing up water. “It’s just…” She paused. There was no way she could tell Harry that the sight of her cousin wearing scraps from her mum’s knitting basket had almost caused her to drown. “It’s just a little too much?” Harry volunteered in a conspiratorial whisper, winking as a smile curved his lips. “Or a little too little,” Ginny offered. They watched as Cleo spread a towel on the ground and fussed about, bringing out all sorts of lotions from the enormous bag that she had brought along with her. To her great surprise, Harry chuckled. “Yeah, exactly.” He shook his head slightly. “I’m sorry you had to wait for us. I’ve no idea why it took ages for her to change into that tiny thing. When I first saw her I thought Hermione had been knitting for the house elves again, and your cousin had grabbed one of her creations by mistake.” Ginny chuckled at the mental image of Dobby wearing a bikini. “Or maybe Fred and George put a shrinking charm on her suit, and she hasn’t realised it yet?” Harry snorted, trying to keep from laughing loud enough for Cleo to hear. “Well, one thing’s for sure,” Harry continued when their laughter subsided, “your mum can’t complain about your swimming costume after she sees that.” Ginny smiled and climbed out of the pond. She felt Harry’s eyes on her as she exited the water. Her skin seemed to burn under Harry’s gaze, and she felt extremely nervous and giddy all of a sudden. She silently thanked Hermione for remembering her birthday. To cover up her anxiety, Ginny slicked her hair away from her eyes and nonchalantly said, “Okay, Harry. Diving contest time. You in?” “Um, sure. There’s just one problem,” Harry said. He seemed self-conscious for some reason. Ginny looked at him inquisitively. Before she could ask what the problem was, Cleo called out to Harry in a syrupy voice. “Harry, be a sweetheart and put some lotion on my back? Please? I can’t quite reach it.” Harry glanced in Cleo’s direction. Ginny felt her heart sink. Did he want to spend time with Cleo instead of her? “Oh, erm, is it all right if I do it later, Cleotilde?’ he replied vaguely. “I’m talking to Ginny.” Cleo scowled at him, but he had already turned away. “I don’t know how to dive, Ginny,” he admitted sheepishly, seeming to have forgotten the other girl entirely. Ginny could not contain her giddy laughter at Harry’s less-than-enthusiastic response at the younger girl’s attempts to be coy. “Oh, is that all? Don’t worry. A dive is kind of like a Wronski Feint without the broom.” She grinned encouragingly. “Here, watch.” With that, Ginny performed a perfect dive, sinking deep into the water. A moment later, she ascended and broke the surface, her hair swirling around her like a fiery halo. “See? That’s all there is to it.” Harry smiled and rolled his eyes. “Oh, that’s all, huh?” He took a deep breath as he uncertainly surveyed the water. He turned and set his glasses on the bank. “All right,” he said at last, and with a deep breath, he sprang from the rocks into what was quite possibly the world’s finest belly flop. As he resurfaced, he was greeted by Ginny’s ringing laughter. “Ow,” he said, smiling in a self-deprecating way. “Well?” Ginny struggled to stop her giggling. “Splendid, Harry,” she said. “But I probably should have been more specific. I meant a dive should look like you doing a Wronski Feint without the broom. That was a brilliant imitation of Malfoy, though.” Harry joined in her laughter. A rather loud and dramatic sniff from Cleo caught their attention. They shared a look before turning her way. She was sitting on the sand with her legs stretched gracefully in front of her. Her hands were placed slightly behind her so that her back was arched and her face was lifted toward the sky. Ginny felt a twinge of guilt as she watched her cousin, alone and friendless, on the water’s edge. She was sure the guilt was brought about by years of her mother’s nagging. She was slightly appalled that she felt any sympathy at all, but nevertheless, it was there. She decided she should at least make an effort to include the younger girl. “Would you like to join us, Cleo?” The brunette merely wrinkled her nose in disgust and shook her head. She stuck out her chest a little further and resumed her Quidditch Illustrated cover pose. Harry leaned closer to Ginny and whispered, “It’s probably for the best. Doesn’t yarn shrink when it’s wet?” Ginny snorted. She looked up to find Harry’s emerald eyes locked on hers. There was something unreadable in their depths that made Ginny shiver. “Are you cold?” Harry asked, concern evident in his features. Ginny shivered again but said, “Nah.” She pulled gently on his arm. “Come on, let’s try again. I wouldn’t want to deprive her of the opportunity to look down her nose at our childish antics.” They continued their “contest.” Ginny performed a spectacular front somersault. Harry did another belly flop. Ginny completed a graceful backward dive. Harry did another belly flop. On and on they went until at last Harry executed a dive that, while far from splash-less, at least did not knock the wind out of him upon entry. He climbed out of the water, grinning, and sat on the edge of the rock. “You win, Ginny,” he said. “How do you make that look so easy?” Ginny sat beside him. “Years of practice. You were getting the hang of it towards the end,” she said diplomatically. He raised his eyebrows. “Oh, so you’re supposed to look like this after a series of perfect dives, then?” He indicated his very red chest and arms. Ginny looked at his chest and felt her gaze linger much longer than she could justify as clinical observation. She could not help ogling him, and she blushed deeply. Harry suddenly turned and retrieved his glasses. Ginny noticed he fumbled them slightly as he tried to put them on. Oh, sweet Merlin, he’s trembling! Before Ginny could even consider what that might mean, Cleo, sick of being the outsider — and probably stiff from all that posing, Ginny thought uncharitably — forced herself between them on the rock ledge and daintily placed her feet in the water. “Oh, that feels heavenly,” she sighed as she pointed her toes and gracefully moved her legs through the water. She put her hand on Harry’s shoulder and simpered. “It was getting so hot over there.” Ginny felt her temper flare and was about to scathingly retort that Cleo seemed to have had no trouble putting her sunblock on after all, when Harry’s expression silenced her. He had shifted his body slightly away from Cleo and was looking at the other girl as if she was a giant flobberworm that had suddenly made a very unwelcome appearance. “You could have joined us, you know,” Ginny said, suddenly feeling quite generous towards her cousin in light of Harry’s clear disinterest. She looked back to Harry and added bravely, “It was loads of fun.” “Yeah, it really was,” Harry agreed quietly, staring back at her. Ginny dizzily noticed how green his eyes were. “Oh, no,” Cleo said, making a face. “That water is filthy. See, you’ve got something in your hair. Ew.” “Here, I’ll get it.” Harry reached around Cleo and delicately pulled a leaf from Ginny’s hair, causing goose pimples to erupt on her skin. She shivered and looked down, suddenly too timid to meet Harry’s gaze. She was mortified to notice that her arms and legs were not the only places where her goose bumps were evident. She quickly crossed her arms and bent over, pretending to look down into the pond. Cleo turned to Harry. “I can’t believe I forgot my sunhat.” She leaned in so close that their shoulders touched. “Did I get any freckles?” she asked, lifting her face to his. “No, not yet,” he answered, backing away slightly from her. “Maybe if you keep trying, though,” he said encouragingly. Ginny whipped her head in Harry’s direction. Was it possible that he actually thought freckles were a desirable by-product of sun exposure? She pinched herself surreptitiously to ensure she was not dreaming. At that moment, Ron and Hermione, who was wearing a blue sundress over her maillot, came into view, walking very close to each other. It might have been the shadows, but Ginny was quite sure she had seen Ron pull his hand from Hermione’s just as they reached the pond. There was a pretty blush colouring Hermione’s cheeks, and they both had dazzling smiles on their faces. “Glad you could finally join us,” Ginny teased. She pushed herself to her feet and walked over to her friends. “You missed a spectacular display of diving prowess.” Harry also took his feet out of the water to join them. “I don’t know if ‘spectacular’ is the word I’d use. ‘Spectacle’ is more like it, at least where I was concerned. Ginny was the one who was spectacular.” He looked at Ginny, his admiration clearly visible on his face. Ginny felt her cheeks grow hot and hastily addressed Hermione and Ron. “Where were you guys, anyway?” “Ron?” Harry asked, surprised by the horror-struck look that had come over his best friend’s face. “Ron?” When Ron still did not answer, Harry and Ginny followed his gaze to the edge of the water and saw what had him so rattled, and why his face nearly matched his orange Chudley Cannons shirt. Ronald Weasley had just caught his first glimpse of his cousin’s barely-there bikini. Harry and Ginny rolled their eyes at each other and then burst out laughing. Ginny put her hand on Ron’s shoulder and leaned in to whisper, “I guess my suit’s not so bad now, eh?” This finally seemed to clear Ron’s head. “Uncle Heathcliff lets her walk around in that thing? In public?” ”Amazing, isn’t it?” Ginny shook her head. “I’ve never understood why Uncle Heathcliff and Aunt Beth let her do a lot of things. I just know that I plan to be standing right next to her when Mum sees my new suit for the first time.” “You’ll get your chance soon enough,” Hermione said, also looking askance at Cleo. “Your mum asked us to tell you all that lunch is ready. We’re having a picnic in the garden.” “Great,” Ginny said. “I’m starving.” She was surprised when Harry suddenly called out “Race you, Ginny!” before running down the path. “Oh no you don’t, Harry!” Ginny yelled and took off in hot pursuit. By the time they reached the garden, they were both out of breath and laughing. Harry’s head start had paid off as he had entered the garden clearing several paces ahead of Ginny. He bent down and put his hands on his knees, struggling to catch his breath. “Oh, Harry dear, come and get something to eat. You must be famished after all that swimming. And Gin…” Mrs Weasley’s voice trailed off and her eyes widened as Ginny sprinted into the clearing. Her face paled when she saw Ginny’s new maillot. Ginny chanced a look at Harry before closing her eyes and waiting for the tirade she knew would come. “Ginevra Molly Weasley, what in the name of all things good do you think you’re wearing?” Ginny knew she had to think of something to say to interrupt her mum before she hit her stride, but the only thing she could think to tell her was that the suit had been a birthday gift. She certainly was not going to say that and make it seem that she was making her mum feel guilty by mentioning it. “Young lady, I want you to march yourself into the house and change this ins…” Mrs Weasley’s voice faded away for a second time. Ginny smiled inwardly at the look of stunned disbelief on her mother’s face as Cleo and her crocheted yellow bikini entered the garden. Ginny’s cousin proceeded to the hammock and stretched out in it, pointedly ignoring everyone and looking very put out that she had been left behind so abruptly. “I — you — Cleo — yarn —” Mrs Weasley’s usual eloquence failed her, so she simply stared in shock at Cleo’s parents, who were both sitting at the table. Uncle Heathcliff looked away guiltily, and Aunt Beth offered a sheepish giggle as she rose and made her way to her daughter, levitating a plate of food in front of her. Mrs Weasley shook her head as if to clear her thoughts. “Right. Go ahead and eat.” She turned away, mumbling to herself as she set out the remainder of the food on the side table by the porch. Ginny did not need telling twice. She quickly surveyed the array of food in front of her — ham and cheese sandwiches, pork pies, mixed salad, sausage rolls — and grabbed some of each. She noted that there was strawberry shortcake, and of course, since Harry was present, an enormous treacle tart. She debated if she should feel happy or offended that her mum had found the time to make Harry’s favourite dessert on the same day that she had forgotten her only daughter’s birthday. Happiness won out when she saw the glee on Harry’s face as he helped himself to a massive piece of treacle tart. “Where are Uncle Bertram and Aunt Tessie, Mum?” she asked, looking around. “And Dad?” “Oh, those two barking mad bird-lovers had some trouble with Dodo suddenly keeling over again, so they decided to stay inside to keep an eye on him.” A tall, thin man standing at the head of the picnic table called out to her. “And your Dad’s gone back to the Ministry for a while.” Smiling, Ginny walked over to Uncle Heathcliff who wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her into a tight hug. “There’s my Ginny-Gin-Gin! I was beginning to wonder if you were ever going to show up.” “Hi, Uncle Heathcliff. Where’s Little Molly?” Ginny asked as she chose a seat at the table, and her uncle settled opposite her. “She’s upstairs, taking a nap with Sherman. Poor baby got a little frightened with all those mad birds squawking. And I think the birds got a little frightened by Sherman’s squawking, to tell you the truth,” he said in an undertone, looking furtively at Aunt Beth, who was trying to tempt a pouty Cleo with a slice of strawberry shortcake. Ginny snorted into her glass of pumpkin juice. Uncle Heathcliff adjusted his monocle and looked curiously at Harry, who had sat next to Ginny. “Oh, this is Harry, Harry Potter. Harry, this is my Uncle Heathcliff,” Ginny said, inclining her head towards Harry. “We were swimming.” “Nice to meet you, Harry.” Uncle Heathcliff reached out and grasped Harry’s hand firmly, his eyes doing the inevitable flick towards the lightning scar visible through Harry’s wet fringe. “I should’ve known it would take one extraordinary wizard to handle our Ginny. I suppose that if you can handle this little fireball, you can handle anything, even You-Know-Who.” Uncle Heathcliff seemed to realise he had said something wrong as he noticed the identical blushes that had risen furiously on Ginny’s and Harry’s faces. He tried to recover and spare the youngsters any further discomfort. “Yes, our Ginny has never settled for ordinary friends, that’s for sure. Now don’t get me wrong, she gets along with everyone, but it takes someone with superior wit to really make an impact.” He winked at Harry. “She’s a lot like her mother that way.” Ginny braved a glance at Harry and was relieved to find him smiling at Uncle Heathcliff, who continued to talk loudly in order to steer the conversation away from the awkward moment. Aunt Beth came back to sit beside her husband, giggling quietly as Harry politely shook her hand. “You may not know this, Harry, but Ginny’s mother had some wonderfully unusual friends. There was Anne Charleston; she could rival Fred and George, that one could. And Beverly Smith, she went through her entire third year without speaking a word. Sang everything. And Jane Topdahl, she collected something. Hmm…What was it? Molly, what did Jane Topdahl collect?” “Butterbeer corks,” Molly answered succinctly, as she made her way to the side table with a huge bowl of potato salad. “Ah, yes, butterbeer corks. I seem to remember she made a necklace of them once,” Uncle Heathcliff laughed. “An odd duck, that one was. Married a newspaper man, didn’t she, Molly?” He then shook his head. “A real shame what happened to her.” Ginny and Harry shared a smile as they realised who the infamous Jane Topdahl must have been. “But you kids should have seen your mum’s gang when they got together. What they wouldn’t get up to,” Uncle Heathcliff reminisced fondly. They were always good for a laugh.” “Oi! Hang on!” Fred and George, who had just come out of The Burrow, hurriedly grabbed a pork pie each and sprinted over to the picnic table. They pretended to scuffle with each other as they both tried to claim the seat next to Uncle Heathcliff. Aunt Beth was unceremoniously shoved aside, but she took it all in good stride and even giggled a bit more at the antics of the twins. After a ridiculously prolonged battle involving much pushing and pulling of clothes and facial appendages, Fred finally claimed the bench, and George perched almost daintily on his lap. They both looked eagerly at Uncle Heathcliff. “Do my ears deceive me, or do I sense the beginning of ‘And then there was the time’ time?” Fred asked eagerly, trying to dislodge George off his lap. Uncle Heathcliff laughed a great big belly laugh surprising for a man so thin, and slapped his leg. “That predictable, am I?” The twins nodded exuberantly. “All right, then,” said Uncle Heathcliff, scratching at his wispy goatee. “I guess I was about to tell a particularly sordid tale of your mother and her friends, and their antics in the prefects’ bathroom.” George quickly jumped off Fred’s lap and ran to where Hermione and Ron were dishing up their lunch. He paused momentarily to goggle at Cleo looking bored on the hammock, before he came to himself and grabbed them both by the arm. “Quick, it’s story time!” He tried to drag them back toward the picnic table. “Hey! Watch it!” Ron shouted, trying to keep his already overflowing plate from tipping over. “I’m not even halfway done!” He carefully put another sausage roll on top of the five that he had already appropriated then turned to Hermione. “We really should hurry, though. We don’t want to miss one of Uncle Heathcliff’s stories.” As soon as Hermione and Ron had found seats at the picnic table, the twins made an elaborate show of silencing the group. Uncle Heathcliff merely laughed and began his tale. “Well, let me tell you about the time that your mother and her friends charmed the portrait of the mermaid in the prefects’ bathroom. You see, several of the boys in their year had had the brilliant idea of flying outside the girls’ dormitory window at bedtime, hoping to sneak a peek at things that properly modest young witches usually keep covered up.” “Already tried that once,” Fred mumbled, his mouth full of pork pie. “Didn’t work.” “Yeah,” George chuckled. “That’s because Angelina spotted you and threatened to call McGonagall.” Harry and Ron sniggered appreciatively when Mrs Weasley reached over and smacked Fred on the head as she passed behind him, holding a large pitcher of iced pumpkin juice in one hand. Ginny motioned for them to keep quiet as Uncle Heathcliff proceeded with his tale. “As they watched the buxom Anne Charleston change from her school robes into her nightgown, one of the voyeurs forgot he had to keep his broom steady and crashed right into the dormitory window.” The Weasleys and Harry all burst out laughing. Even Hermione struggled to keep from smiling. “That was the Gryffindor Quidditch captain, that was,” Uncle Heathcliff said with a grin. “Now, your mother and her friends happened to notice that all of the little buggers had access to the prefects’ bathroom, and they came up with the perfect idea for revenge.” “What did Mum do?” Ginny asked interestedly. Uncle Heathcliff put his finger on the side of his nose. “There was a painting of a mermaid in the bathroom, you see, and they somehow charmed it so that whenever one of those blokes entered the bathroom, it would act like a window of sorts.” “You mean they could…?” Ron interrupted. “Yes. They had a mirror in the sixth-year girls’ dormitory that reflected everything that the mermaid could see. And I mean everything.” Uncle Heathcliff stopped and peered at Harry in concern when the boy suddenly choked on his pumpkin juice. “Are you quite all right, Harry?” “Sorry, just suddenly remembered my fourth year,” Harry muttered weakly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Ron and Hermione shared an amused glance. Fred turned to his mother and said, “Nice one, Mum!” Molly Weasley only sniffed disparagingly, taking a seat beside Uncle Heathcliff. “Ah, so there’s more to the story!” George said, recognising his mum’s signal that the tale was not yet finished. “Well,” Uncle Heathcliff continued, “These four devious young ladies also charmed the mermaid to — shall we say — ‘size’ the boys up? Those poor boys definitely heard some things that no teenage boy wants to hear a beautiful young woman — or mermaid — say while he’s in his birthday suit, if you understand me.” Uncle Heathcliff’s audience roared with laughter, except for Mrs Weasley who inserted her customary “Oh, Heathcliff!”, and Hermione who muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “It serves them right” under her breath. “Hang on,” Ron said. “How come you know about this prank, Uncle Heathcliff?” “Because he was the one who crashed into our dormitory window,” Molly said matter-of-factly, standing up to get more treacle tart from the kitchen. “Well done, Uncle Heathcliff!” Fred and George congratulated the now red-faced man. As the guffawing subsided, the twins excused themselves, made a beeline for their mum, and attempted to get her to divulge the charm she used to pull off that spectacular prank. Aunt Beth and Uncle Heathcliff also stood up to go back into The Burrow. The rest of the group went back to their meal, still chuckling about Mrs Weasley’s exploits. “I think Mum is a lot more like Fred and George than she likes to admit,” Ginny whispered to Harry, as Hermione admonished Ron for trying to stuff an entire sausage roll into his mouth. “Actually, I think that your mum’s a lot like you.” Harry took another bite of treacle tart and smiled at her. “That was brilliant.” Ginny returned his smile. She really felt like she had to be dreaming. Did Harry just imply that he thought she was brilliant? What other surprises would this day hold? “So, angels, missed me?” Ginny and Hermione exchanged dismayed glances as Sherman slid into the seat beside Ginny. “Let’s get this party started, because the Sherman Love Machine is finally here!” He looked around him then waggled his eyebrows suggestively at Hermione and slung an arm around Ginny’s shoulder. Ginny pointedly removed Sherman’s arm and shifted, leaning closer to Harry, who turned slightly to allow her more room to move away from Sherman. He did not appear to mind that she was practically pressed up against his chest. His bare chest, Ginny realised with a shiver. His arm was not touching her but was braced on the bench next to her, effectively sheltering her from Sherman. “Who’s this Sherman bloke?” Harry murmured, his warm breath tickling Ginny’s ear and causing the little hairs on her arms and neck to stand up. “And is he for real?” Not trusting herself to look into those impossibly green eyes, she kept her gaze trained on Sherman, who was slicking his hair back in a gesture worthy of Draco Malfoy. “Sherman’s my Aunt Beth’s sister’s son. She adopted him when his parents disappeared due to some exploding haggis.” “Exploding what?” Sherman spoke again before Ginny could answer Harry’s surprised question. “So, what do you say, Ginny? Hermione? Fancy a ride on the old broomstick?” Ron choked on his sausage roll and Hermione had to pound him hard on the back. After finally regaining his breath, Ron narrowed his eyes and frowned at Sherman. Harry simply looked stunned. Appearing undeterred by their less than enthusiastic reaction to his presence, Sherman winked at Hermione, not seeming to notice that Ron was now growling softly at him. “You know, Hermione, if I could rearrange the alphabet, I would put U and I together. Get it? You and I? Together?” Ginny snorted and felt Harry shake with suppressed laughter beside her. Hermione’s mouth was hanging open in disbelief. “Would you touch me, so I can tell my friends that I’ve been touched by an angel?” Sherman blithely continued, unaware of the angry crimson flush that was slowly creeping up Ron’s neck. “Bloody hell! That’s it!” Ron threw down his fork, stood up and began to stalk furiously towards Sherman, who paled and seemed to notice the boys for the first time. “Uh, well, erm,” Sherman stuttered, hastily rising from the table and backing away from Ron. “I — I think — I think I hear Aunt Beth calling me. See you later.” With that, he turned and bolted for the house, dodging several garden gnomes along the way. Ginny and Harry began laughing loudly, while Hermione tried to calm Ron down and stop him from running after Sherman. Several ear-piercing shrieks startled all of them. They turned to where Cleo had been sitting in the hammock, daintily eating her lunch. Encircling her was a veritable horde of garden gnomes, all of whom were attempting to climb onto her lap. Ginny, together with Harry, Ron and Hermione, watched open-mouthed as Cleo jumped from the hammock and began batting at the gnomes surrounding her. “Mummy!” shrieked Cleo, swatting away a gnome that was clinging to her arm. “Daddy!” The back door of The Burrow burst open and Uncle Heathcliff, with Aunt Beth trotting frantically after him, sprinted towards their daughter. Behind them, the twins, Mrs Weasley, Uncle Bertram and Aunt Tessie also dashed into the garden. Ginny could see Sherman’s pale face peering curiously out the kitchen window. “Cleo, darling! Make a run for it!” Uncle Heathcliff shouted, waving his arms madly in the air. Giving one final squeal of dismay (and a well-aimed kick at a gnome that was trying to climb up her leg), Cleo ran to her mother, who enfolded her hysterical child in her arms. Mrs Weasley came up and guided them both back into the house. The entire throng of gnomes threw themselves on the ground and pounded the earth with their tiny fists. A loud cacophony of wailing and howling filled the air. “What the bloody hell was that about?” Uncle Bertram bellowed the question that was on everybody’s mind. He looked at Uncle Heathcliff shrewdly, and Ginny was taken aback to see the younger man flinch and avert his eyes. “Heathcliff,” Uncle Bertram said, pointing his unlit cigar at the other man, “is your daughter a Squib?” |
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