Much thanks and appreciation to my beta team, Sherylyn, Arnel and Sue for their time, patience and care in always reading over these chapters and letting me know what could be improved. I really appreciate the help.
A few of you picked up on the clue in the last chapter about what this mysterious illness is doing. Hang on, because it’s about to ramp up 😉
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Contagion | ||||||
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Category: Post-Hogwarts Characters:None Genres: Drama Warnings: Mild Language, Mild Sexual Situations Story is Complete Rating: PG-13 Reviews: 210 Summary: Muggle and magical illnesses are separate. Until they’re not. Harry has always had a discernable enemy. This time, he’s fighting an invisible and indiscriminate threat. Part of the Cuts universe. Hitcount: Story Total: 112771; Chapter Total: 5366 Awards: View Trophy Room Author's Notes: |
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Twenty-One Candles Ginny woke up slowly, feeling so warm and comfortable that she considered dropping back off. Her drowsy brain registered that Harry was curled around her, his arm draped protectively over her, so she was snuggled in a cocoon of warmth and protectiveness that felt even better than the luxurious sheets. She’d noticed that whenever he fell asleep on his own, Harry always curled in on himself, but if she was with him, he still curled up, but he surrounded her completely whilst doing so. This had to be her favorite spot to be, which was saying something since, if asked, she’d claim she hated being overprotected. It was different with him, though. It was always different with him. Whenever she came upon him after he’d nodded off on the sofa, or if he was feeling unwell — something which he still never admitted — it would make her sad to think why he might sleep curled up that way, as if shielding himself. She wasn’t certain if it was a remnant of his lonely childhood, or a holdout from a lifetime of being hunted. Perhaps, it was a way he’d tried to protect himself during his teenage years when Tom would frequently invade his mind whilst he slept. Whichever it was, his inclination was to protect himself, and he automatically protected her when she was with him. She knew he was aware that she could more than adequately defend herself, but even when his subconscious mind took over, it was his instinct to shield and protect her. Even though it sometimes exasperated her, she loved him for it. She loved him for a lot of reasons, actually. Besides, she was always cold at night, and he was so warm. The only time he ever complained was when she rested her freezing cold feet against his shins, but even then, he didn’t push her away. He’d yelp a lot, but he always stayed. And he always came back. Hell, he’d even once come back from the dead for her. It was nice to have something so rock-steady and dependable to call completely her own. Being the youngest in a very large family, Ginny was used to being told what to do and what to think — things she’s usually promptly ignored. With Harry, he actually sought out her advice and opinion. He never saw her as less. In fact, he tended to see her as if the moon, sun and stars shone specifically for her. A girl could get used to that. She straightened out her legs and tried to gently stretch her back without waking Harry. He had enough trouble sleeping without her rousing him unnecessarily. They were due at The Burrow later this afternoon for his birthday dinner, but the morning was gloriously and exclusively their own. She could give him a bit of a lie-in before giving him a private work out. She knew once they arrived at The Burrow, her mum would somehow find a moment to corner her and try to cajole her into agreeing how much better it would be if she moved home. She never seemed to understand that this — this once-decrepit old house — was what she now considered home. True, it had been thoroughly renovated and was quite trendy and posh, but that’s not what made it home. Harry being here made it home. She’d be at home wherever he was, and she knew it was the same for him. Her mum wouldn’t accept that until there were some marriage vows between them, but even then — for she was certain it would happen eventually — she wasn’t positive her mum wouldn’t try to convince them to live with her. She liked having her kids around, and she considered both of them hers. Fortunately, that protective instinct had grown to include Teddy and Victoire. Ginny could only imagine — hope — as the ensuing years passed, there would be more and more grandchildren to occupy Molly’s time. Because Ginny wasn’t planning on ever returning to The Burrow to live again. She’d let Harry walk away once because there was a bigger picture to consider, and they all had their roles to play. Now, she and Harry were finally in control of their own destinies, and they chose to face them head on and together. Still, despite the expected row, it should be a fun gathering. She always enjoyed watching Harry’s embarrassment over all the gifts. Honestly, it was his birthday, so of course there would be gifts, yet he still somehow always seemed surprised they were there. Naturally, that meant everyone was always happy to give him even more. Perhaps he was onto something there. Her own birthday came a mere fortnight after his after all... Ginny carefully turned from her side to lie on her back so that her head rested against Harry’s gently moving chest. He was still deeply asleep. Her eyes traced the various scars that littered his chest, the most prominent being the lightning-bolt-shaped one over his heart that matched the one on his forehead. The sight of that scar always brought her back to her miserable sixth year under the Carrows’ reign and the battle that followed. Unconsciously, her finger reached out to lightly trace his ridged skin around the scar, recalling how deeply it had originally bruised. Her sixth year was when, she felt, she’d really grown up. She’d helped to restart Dumbledore’s Army and led a resistance against the Carrows’ cruelty. It was the first time in her life that she’d felt like the protector rather than the protected. Oddly enough, it was her mum who’d instilled that desire in her after Christmas during her fifth year. The Minister of Magic had unexpectedly arrived during Christmas dinner to attempt to bully Harry into siding with the Ministry. It had really rattled both her parents, and she remembered, as they were using the Floo Network to return to Hogwarts, her tearful mum pleading with both her and Ron to not only watch out for themselves, but to watch out for Harry, as well. Now, her mum had always told Ron and the twins to do this, along with looking after her, but it had been the first time Ginny had been included in the protective role, and she found she quite liked it. Harry would’ve been indignant had he known, but her mum was more than shifty enough not to let him see her doing it. In fact, Ginny had learned there was very little that had happened during her childhood that her mum hadn’t been aware of — even the mischief the twins had been plotting. Harry shifted ever so slightly under her touch on his scar, his arm moving up so he could lazily fondle her breast. She didn’t think he was fully awake yet. Even asleep he could never decide which he liked more, her hair or her tits. He liked to touch both of them — or maybe that counted as three things? Ginny sighed in contentment, burrowing her face into the light tracing of fur on his chest. He was waking up, she could tell by his languid smile and the fact some parts of him were becoming alert quicker than others. His eyes fluttered open, their bright green color slightly dulled with sleep. “Morning,” he said, sighing contentedly. “Good morning, my Birthday Chosen Boy. Are you ready for your special day?” she asked, nuzzling her nose into his chest, which rumbled when he chuckled. “Birthday Chosen Boy, is it? That’s a new one,” he said, squinting to see her reaction without his glasses. “Happy Birthday,” she said fondly, reaching over to grab them off the bedside table and handing them to him. She thought she ought to sit up and give him a proper birthday kiss, but she was too comfortable to move just yet. She’d make up for it later. “I’m twenty-one,” Harry said, sounding rather odd. Without taking her head off his chest, she glanced upwards to see a noticeably pensive expression cross his face. She waited, lightly tracing her hand in circles on his chest, knowing he’d speak when he was ready. Sometimes, it took him awhile to gather his thoughts, but he’d usually share if you didn’t push him. “My parents were twenty-one when they died,” he said eventually, his voice gruff. “Next year, I’ll be older than them.” Ginny’s heart constricted, and she shut her eyes tightly for a moment. Harry had barely had the chance to live, she couldn’t imagine this being the end. Of course, his parents had already had him at this point, but still… She often felt churlish for the way she took her parents for granted. They were always solidly there, fixed and unchanging. She loved them, but she also found them exasperating, as with her mum and her unrelenting demands that Ginny should move home. Harry had never had the chance to know his parents, so of course he’d also never had the chance to become exasperated by them. He’d told her of a Pensieve memory of Snape’s that had haunted him during his fifth year when she’d asked, years later, about what had really been bothering him in the library that day. That was long before they’d started dating, but she often looked back on it now with wonder, realizing that it was the first time he’d really opened up to her. He hadn’t told her he was fine. She wasn’t certain there’d ever been a time with anyone else that he’d done that. “Well,” she said, dragging her thoughts back to the present, “their lives were certainly shorter than they should’ve been, but I’ll always be grateful that they brought you into the world for me.” She watched his slow grin form and knew she’d been successful at pulling him out of his morose thoughts. “You think they had me just for you, then?” he asked. She pursed her lips. “Well, what else would your purpose be? It’s not like you saved the world or anything. Don’t be big-headed, Harry. It’s unbecoming,” she said primly. “Sorry about that,” he said, grinning widely now. “Don’t worry. You’re still my Birthday Chosen Boy.” “Urgh, enough with the ruddy nicknames, already. You know I hate those… unless… did you add any poetry? It is my birthday, after all,” he said, trying and failing to look innocent. “Poetry?” she asked blankly. Harry’s eyes were sparkling merrily, and he looked positively mischievous now. “Yeah. If you can find a way to rhyme fresh-pickled toad, certainly you could come up with one for birthday chosen boy,” he said, eyebrows raised in challenge. Ginny gasped, astonished he’d brought that up. He usually only teased her about her childhood crush when he was randy — and sure of his chances. She narrowed her eyes threateningly. “I thought we’d established a deal that we never talk about that,” she said sternly. He was far too delighted for her liking. “Yeah, but we also have another deal, the one where you don’t hex me on my birthday,” he said, suddenly sitting up and tickling her ribs without mercy. “Oh, he thinks he’s so coy, that vain chosen boy,” she gasped out through giggles. “Vain?” he asked, pulling back to stare incredulously, tickling ceased. “I’m not vain.” “Well, you were acting a bit of a peacock just a moment ago about saving the world and all. As if that doesn’t happen with someone every day,” she said flippantly, enjoying the way his eyes goggled. “I love how you can put it all in perspective,” he said, rolling his eyes. Ginny shrugged, grinning impishly. “It’s one of my many talents.” “Of which poetry definitely isn’t one,” he said, poking her in the side for good measure. “Hey! It wasn’t bad for eleven,” she said, pouting out her lower lip. “Fair enough,” he said. “You were a good poet at eleven, and I was the youngest Seeker in a century.” Ginny let out a bark of laugher, poking him back, rather harder than necessary. “You’re such a prat,” she said, finally pulling herself into a seated position next to him. He wrapped his arm around her and kissed the top of her head. “I love you,” he said, smiling with a goofy, quite soppy expression on his face. “Well then, you’re very lucky that I love you, too. Who else could stand that big head of yours?” she asked, pulling a face. “How can I ever thank you for putting up with me?” he asked with mock sincerity. “You can start by promising to never bring up my poetry-writing days as long as you live — even if you come back from the dead again, you still can’t bring it up,” she said promptly. Harry laughed outright. “How about, if you’re not allowed to hex me on my birthday, that I’m not allowed to bring up your poetry-writing on yours?” She pretended to ponder it for a moment, tapping her finger against her lips, then said, “I think I like it better if you promise not to while you’re alive.” “Are you going to promise never to hex me while you’re alive?” he asked. “Well, unless you do something daft,” she said, shrugging. “So, that’s a no then,” he said, leaning his head back against the headboard. “Because you know you’ll do something daft. You can’t help yourself,” she said. “And yet here you are, in bed with me,” he said, sounding smug. “I never claimed I wasn’t daft, either.” Chuckling, Harry leaned over to kiss her, and she remembered she still owed him a birthday kiss. She opened her mouth, inviting him, and felt his fingers tangle in her hair. This was exactly how she enjoyed spending her morning, and wished they could all be like this. When they broke apart, she rested her head on his shoulder, wrapping her arm around his chest, hugging him close. “It was ten years ago today that Hagrid showed up in that little ocean shanty and told me I was a wizard. My whole world changed that day,” he said, curling a strand of her hair between his fingers. His other arm was wrapped around her shoulders, and as she snuggled next to him, he once again began fondling her breast. Boobs and hair, he was nothing if not predictable. “No, it changed when you arrived in King’s Cross on September first because that’s when you met me,” she said. “Oh, right. There I go, being daft again,” he said, his eyes dilating with desire as he looked at her. She laughed, and he leaned down, capturing her lips in another searing kiss, turning his body towards her. She pulled the glasses off his face and placed them absently on the bedside table again, feeling slightly breathless as one of his hands skimmed across her hip. “I think I remembered something else I like to do on my birthday, Whisky,” he said, gasping slightly as her hands moved to his bum, pulling him tighter. “Well, we best make it a happy one,” she murmured, and they spent the rest of the morning doing just that. The late afternoon sun was warm and pleasant over the back garden of The Burrow, where Mrs. Weasley had prepared an extraordinary birthday feast. The entire Weasley clan plus all the extras who’d been pulled in over the years were gathered around, though the meal itself hadn’t yet been served. Ginny stood with Fleur, watching Teddy and Victoire dig in the sand near the water hole. Harry had disappeared into the shed with her dad, as was their custom, and Bill was chatting animatedly with Owen and Hagrid. Ginny couldn’t help but wonder what that conversation was all about. Everyone but Charlie and Percy were there. Truth be told, Ginny was quite relieved to have a reprieve from all the wedding talk. This was Harry’s day. She was currently doing her best to avoid being alone with her mum so Molly couldn’t lecture her about moving back. Ginny and Fleur had come a long way since their rough beginning, and she’d often found an unexpected ally against her brothers’ interference from her sister-in-law. “When are you going on your ‘oliday?” Fleur asked, bending down to pull Victoire’s sand-covered hand away from the girl’s mouth. “You should not forgo eet because eet didn’t work the first time.” “I know. It’s not cancelled — just postponed for the moment,” Ginny said, thinking about how soon her job would have her travelling. Perhaps they could go on holiday over Christmas. She could just imagine Molly’s reaction if Ginny dropped that bit of news on her. Maybe she could try it to derail her later when she started in on Ginny’s living arrangements. “I think eet is important for you to go, no? I think ‘arry would like to get you away for himself for a while,” Fleur said, her stunning blue eyes watching Ginny very carefully. Ginny suspected Fleur might have the same suspicions she herself did on why Harry wanted to go on holiday. She’d discovered there really wasn’t a lot of subtlety to Fleur, but also, there wasn’t much that she missed. As soon as Fleur had learned Harry and Ginny had been involved even before the war, she became an instant supporter. It seemed that Fleur thought any and all instances of romance needed her delicate touch. In fact, Ginny sometimes thought it was the romance Fleur was more invested in rather than the participants, but she tried to curb that unflattering thought. “I have a birthday gift for you,” Fleur said, her voice low. “Just don’t go on ‘oliday before I give eet to you. And… eet would be best if you didn’t mention eet to Bill, either.” Ginny looked at Fleur, both startled and intrigued. “It’s Harry’s birthday,” she said stupidly. Sometimes Fleur made even her lose her head. Teddy’s constant stream of chatter about the sand-castle was punctuated by the occasional screech from Victoire, who was boisterously waving her chubby little arms in the air and making sand fly everywhere. “I know, and I think he will enjoy this very much,” Fleur said, smiling knowingly. She deftly stepped away from the flying sand, but Ginny felt some of it land in her own hair. They were interrupted by a shriek from Victoire. Both women turned just as the baby took a handful of sand and flung it at Teddy, who looked startled as sand fell from his turquoise-colored hair. Fleur walked over to her daughter, brushing the sand out of her hand and reminding her not to throw things. Ginny swiped the bits of sand off Teddy, who didn’t seem perturbed by it. He happily went back to digging, telling an uncomprehending Victoire what they needed to do next. By the time they’d settled the toddlers back to their task, the moment had passed. Ginny wanted to ask Fleur more about her gift but thought it would be rather tactless. With anyone else, she wouldn’t care about being tactless, but it always felt as if it somehow gave Fleur the upper hand. Ginny tried to avoid that. Luckily for her, it was Fleur who returned to their conversation. “Would you like to know what eet is or be surprised?” she asked, her face serene as if it didn’t matter to her either way. “Tell me,” Ginny said, never one to be patient when it came to presents. “Eet is a set of robes,” Fleur said, her dazzling smile lighting her entire face, making her look even more stunning than she usually did. “Robes?” Ginny asked blankly. “You gave me a beautiful set of dress robes last Christmas.” The robes were a soft, pale yellow that she was certain appeased Bill’s delusion that she was just a baby. He’d never seen them on her, however, so he didn’t know how they cinched in tightly at the waist, and the slit at the side was cut daringly high. When Ginny wore them to a Quidditch function, she wished she could’ve seen her brother’s reaction to the pictures that were splashed across the gossip rags. There was one that appeared to show Harry sneaking a peek down the remarkable cleavage the robes displayed. Ginny was certain Bill hadn’t known about that. “These are not dress robes. Zey are for sleeping… or at least, for going to bed,” Fleur said, her eyes glinting. Ginny’s mouth formed into a slight ‘oh,’ her thoughts shifting into high gear on what the robes might look like. She suddenly wanted to re-schedule her failed holiday very much. “Er… how did you get those past Bill?” she asked, her voice sounding a bit strangled to her own ears. “I have my ways. Your brothers are ridiculous in their insistence you don’t have a sex life. Zey would be more than ‘appy if I bought these robes for their girlfriends. Bill certainly likes when I wear such things. Eet is more than hypocritical that zey think you wouldn’t enjoy them, no?” “Hypocritical doesn’t even begin to cover it,” Ginny said, always quick to become incensed whenever this topic arose. Although, she could’ve done without the comment that Bill enjoyed Fleur to wear things like that. She really didn’t want to know anything about her brothers’ love lives. “Zey are green, more of a jade green, but I think they will remind you of ‘arry’s eyes when he sees you wearing them,” Fleur said. Ginny couldn’t help but wonder what Harry’s reaction would be if she strolled out of the loo wearing something sexy. His eyes always did tend to grow darker when he was aroused. If she knew Fleur, the robes would definitely be sexy. Ginny usually just wore one of Harry’s old T-shirts to bed. “George does not look ‘appy,” Fleur said, breaking into Ginny’s fantasy. Her eyes were fixed on the gate that led to the Apparition point. Ginny turned to see a scowling George standing with Ron and Hermione. They looked as if they were having a row. She automatically took a step towards them before remembering she’d told Andromeda she’d mind Teddy while Andromeda helped Molly with dinner. “Go on,” Fleur said. “I can watch both. Zey are happier together, anyway.” Ginny nodded, reaching out to squeeze Fleur’s arm before hurrying across the garden to where all her housemates save Harry stood tensely. “What good will that do if I’ve already cocked it up?” George demanded harshly. His face and one remaining ear were very red, and the scowl lines around his mouth were so out of place it made him nearly unrecognizable. “It’ll keep you from cocking up again,” Ron snapped, running his hand through his hair in agitation. “What’s up?” Ginny asked, moving next to Hermione who was pinching her forehead as if trying to think. “Go on, tell her. Not like everyone won’t hear about it soon enough,” George said, throwing his hands in the hair. He turned away from them, placing his hands on the fence and leaning over, breathing heavily. “George… well, he…” Ron said, staring helplessly at Hermione. “There was a mistake on a Fainting Fancy. A boy in the shop went into convulsions and had to be taken to St. Mungo’s,” Hermione said, biting her lip. “Is he all right?’ Ginny asked, hearing the shrillness in her own voice. “Yeah, fortunately he’s going to be fine,” Ron said, his hair impossibly mussed up from tugging on it. “He’s already been released from St. Mungo’s without complications.” “I told him he’s earned a lifetime supply,” George said humorlessly. “How many boxes were sold?” Ginny asked, her heart dropping. “None, thank Merlin,” George said, still gripping the fence and staring into the distance. “I mixed up the ingredients on one of the potions. It had been really busy, and I worked late in the storeroom after hours. I reckon I wasn’t paying enough attention. Lucky for me, the only ones from that batch went into the sample jar at the shop. We confiscated and disposed of the rest.” Ginny released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “Well, that’s good then. No one else can be hurt, and calamity averted.” “Yeah, until the boy’s parents take me to court,” George said in a low voice. “The more important thing is ensuring it can’t happen again. You need some help, and some new safeguards on testing the products,” Hermione said, business-like. “I do test all the new products. I’ve been making Fainting Fancies since I was in school. I’ve never messed them up before,” George said defensively. “You could hire some potion makers and testers, since you’re making so much more stuff. You can’t do this all yourself, mate,” Ron said. It was the same spiel he’d been saying for months. “Shag off, Ron,” George said irritably. “Save a sample of the faulty one, and keep your notes in case you do need to hire a Barrister,” Hermione said. “You could ask Audrey. She could at least tell you how to protect yourself,” Ginny said, her mind racing. George couldn’t lose his shop; he’d never survive it. None of them could. It was the last living bit of Fred they still had. “I suppose,” George said wearily, and Ginny presumed he was thinking the same thing. “Ron’s right, though, George. You can’t keep on this way,” Hermione said. “I know,” George said, hanging his head miserably. “I have to make a change.” Ginny hated seeing her larger-than-life brother so defeated. Helplessly, she met Ron’s and Hermione’s gaze, knowing they were all out of their depth and hating it. “Do me a favor and don’t mention this to Harry today. Let him have one day without dwelling on anyone else’s problems,” George said gruffly, still leaning on the fence and facing away from all of them. Ginny loved that George and Harry had grown so close, but she still couldn’t fathom the complexities of it. Both had been ravaged by death and found odd support in that comradery. She knew Harry had lent her brothers the start-up gold for their business, and George would forever hold Harry in high esteem for that. George, in turn, acted as the older brother Harry never had, giving him advice on things he was too uncomfortable to ask, and Ron was too obtuse to notice. Still, even though George was older, he never wanted to disappoint Harry in any way. “He’d probably actually enjoy something to take the attention off him. Telling him might count as a gift, to him anyway,” Ron said, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Yeah, but I quite enjoy his squirming discomfort,” George said, sounding more like himself at last. “Thank Merlin I didn’t give that child any permanent injury.” “We can all be thankful for that,” Ginny said, reaching around George’s shoulders. He turned around then, slipping his arm around her shoulders and giving her a squeeze. “Thanks, Ginny. I’ll back you up when you have your row with Mum,” he said. “I hope you’d back me anyway since I’m right and she’s wrong,” Ginny said, firing up at once. “She doesn’t give either of you this much trouble for not living at home.” “She still gives me plenty of trouble, but I just hang my head and look abashed. You always rage like a rampaging hippogriff. You’d do better acting like the delicate little flower she wants you to be. ‘Course, I don’t think you could pull that off,” Ron said, chuckling. Narrowing her eyes, Ginny quickly removed her wand, giving it a forceful flick upward. Ron’s tongue became stuck to the roof of his mouth, and he glared at her, infuriated, while Hermione laughed. “You earned that one,” Hermione said. “Speaking of your mum, though, should we go in and help with dinner?” “Andromeda is in there with her, so more than likely they’re gossiping over tea,” Ginny said, sighing. “I suppose now is as good a time as any to get it over with.” “I’ll go with you. Maybe I can snag a biscuit, or there’ll still be a bowl of icing left from the cake,” George said, his countenance brightening. “What are you? Five?” Ginny asked incredulously. “Nothing wrong with nicking a treat when you can, lass,” George said, linking his arm with her as they strolled across the garden toward the kitchen door. Once inside, they were enveloped by the smells of a baking roast beef in the oven and various sauces and side dishes simmering on the stove. A beautifully decorated cake sat on the counter next to a delicious-looking treacle tart. As Ginny had predicted, Molly and Andromeda sat at the kitchen table, heads bent over tea. George found a bowl of icing and spoon in the sink that hadn’t yet been washed, and he scooped it right out, sitting at the table with the witches. Andromeda looked up from her conversation, her face whitening a smidge when she saw Ginny. “Is Teddy all right?” she asked, half-rising. “He’s fine,” Ginny said, waving her hands downward in a placating gesture. “He’s showing Victoire how to make a sand-castle. Fleur is standing guard.” Ginny should’ve realized Andromeda would panic since she’d been the one to last have Teddy. He was a very social child, but after losing her entire family to the war, Andromeda still became uneasy if she didn’t know exactly where he was. “Yes, well, it was always easier with more than one. They entertained each other, see,” Molly said. “I expect it’s about time she and Bill are thinking about a sibling.” “They will if they want one,” Ginny said, imagining how Fleur would react to that statement. Much like Ginny, Fleur was usually annoyed when Molly became overbearing. “I was always happy with just the one, although Nymphadora frequently requested a little brother to boss around,” Andromeda said, smiling sadly. Molly placed her hand on Andromeda’s hand, patting it lightly. It inexplicably brought tears to Ginny’s eyes, and she blinked them away fiercely lest someone should see. Molly was the last of the Prewetts, and she’d become sort of isolated at The Burrow raising such a large family. Andromeda had come into Molly’s life just as Ginny was beginning to spread her wings, and it had done both women good. They’d each lost a child and could relate to one another on such a deep level. Andromeda had first reached out to her one remaining sister after the war, but the relationship appeared to have stuttered and died. Harry, of course, never asked about it as he tended to avoid emotional talks at all cost. Ginny had wanted to know, however. She’d always been a bit of a social butterfly and talked to everyone, so it didn’t faze her a bit to sit down with Andromeda one day and ask for all the sordid details. Andromeda, it seemed, had been more than ready to chat. Apparently, as the shock of losing her family began to settle in, her anger at the way her sister had treated Andromeda’s husband and daughter began to rise. The fact Narcissa still kept her Pureblood prejudice even after the war was the final straw, so Andromeda decided she’d been right all along to shun her sister. From what Ginny had heard, the Malfoys were being shunned by both sides after the war, and she felt that was a just punishment in itself. Molly and Andromeda’s bond strengthened after that. Ginny liked having the other woman there as Andromeda was never afraid to speak her mind, and Molly respected her opinion. Both had been raised under stricter, old-fashioned ways, though Ginny thought Andromeda was more accepting of the modern changes in the world over her mum. Still, Molly laughed much more frequently when Andromeda was around. “George, you’re going to spoil your dinner. It’s almost ready,” Molly said, frowning at George who was scraping the sides of the icing bowl with a spoon to get every last drop. “Don’t worry, Mum. I’ll still eat dinner, no problem,” he said, a smudge of icing on is upper lip. Her brothers were all bottomless pits. “You remind me of a troll when you eat,” Ginny said, scrunching her face at the near ecstasy on George’s face over icing. “Ginevra,” Molly said, eyes narrowed. “Mum,” Ginny said, matching the tone. Molly eyed her beadily for a moment before turning to Andromeda. “Andy, Dora lived with you right up until she was married, didn’t she?” Molly asked in a would-be casual tone. Ginny knew exactly what she was doing and reckoned the time had come for their regular argument. It looked as if her mum was trying to rope Andromeda onto her side. Perhaps she thought with an ally she could convince Ginny to change her mind. Andromeda smiled, shaking her head, “She didn’t, actually. She moved in with a fellow Auror. Nice bloke whom she insisted was just a friend.” Ginny smiled triumphantly as Molly’s face fell. Before she had any time to gloat, however, Andromeda continued. “She didn’t move home until she was expecting Teddy, but it was nice to share her pregnancy under the same roof.” Ginny could’ve banged her head on the table after that, but from the corner of her eye, she thought she saw Andromeda give George a small wink. It might have been a trick of the light, or Ginny’s own horror that her mum now had that idea in her head, but perhaps Andromeda had more of Sirius in her than Ginny had previously suspected. “Remus must’ve been thrilled to have the company,” George said with a perfectly straight face. Ginny glared at him since he’d supposedly come inside to be her ally. She’d be certain he paid for this betrayal later. Molly was not to be deterred from what she wanted to discuss. “Still, I do really think you ought to consider moving home, dear. Both of you have high profiles, and it’s inappropriate to be living together before you’re married.” “My brothers are also living there,” Ginny said, trying to tamp down on her indignation. Molly acted as if she didn’t even hear her. “It’s not even like you have your own room. What will people think?” “What people? What difference does a room make? The only other people in the house are Ron, Hermione, George and occasionally Angelina. They all know where I sleep. Nobody cares, Mum,” Ginny said, irritated, particularly since Molly didn’t have anything to say about where Hermione and Angelina slept. Molly’s eyes flashed as she narrowed them. “I care, young lady, and you ought to as well. You should want to save something special for your wedding night.” “My wedding night — whenever that may be — will be plenty special. Can’t we just have one family gathering without a row? I might as well start skipping all of them if this is the way it’s always going to be,” Ginny said, hoping to steer clear of the topic of weddings altogether. She suspected after Percy’s wedding, her mum might actually stop with the pressure to move home and replace it with pressure to get married. “Yeah, don’t worry, Mum. Ginny’s fans don’t care where else she scores as long as she keeps scoring on the pitch.,” George said, grinning. Andromeda coughed and immediately covered her face with her tea-cup. “George!” Molly shouted. “George!” Ginny moaned. George looked thoroughly pleased with himself. He stood and put the now empty icing bowl back in the sink. “When’s dinner? I’m starving.” When they all finally gathered around the table for dinner, all the mini-dramas of the day were forgotten as the family celebrated one of their own. Harry and Arthur had emerged from the shed along with Bill, Ron and Owen who had all joined them at some point. All of them were a bit glassy-eyed, and Ginny couldn’t help but wonder how many times Harry had told each and every one of them that he loved them. She suspected his inebriated proclamations weren’t entirely just the alcohol talking. It loosened his inhibitions and reluctance to share too many of his emotions, but the emotions were already there, boiling beneath the surface. One look into his remarkably vivid eyes could reveal that. Those eyes held such intense emotion, Ginny often found herself lost in them. After their appetites had been sated, the cake consumed and presents opened, they all sat on blankets in the sprawling grass for a fireworks display, courtesy of George. It had become a bit of a summer tradition, and they’d do the same thing a few weeks later for Ginny’s birthday, then again for Percy. Ginny thought that eventually, they might combine hers and Harry’s for one big celebration. Victoire and Teddy both had long since fallen asleep, but the rest of them watched the bright colors intently. Ginny had her head on Harry’s shoulder, his arm around her waist as she leaned on him, enjoying the warmth of him against the night’s chill. She could see the reflection of the bright overhead colors reflected in his glasses. “So, are you going to tell me what happened with George today?” he asked softly, despite the fact no one was paying them any mind. She should’ve known he’d see the tension. There was very little he missed, even if he had been drinking earlier. She reckoned it was his Auror training. Looking up at him, she realized his eyes weren’t glassy at all, and his cheeks had lost that tell-tale rosy hue. His focus was solely on her, and even after several years, it still gave her that swooping feeling in her belly, as if she’d just lurched her broom into a sudden and unexpected dive. She’d always loved the thrill of that feeling. “It’s a bit of a long story, but I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow,” Ginny said, remembering her promise to George. Although, seeing that he reneged on his promise to side with her against their mother, she really didn’t owe him a thing. Harry raised his eyebrows in question. “Seriously, it’s something to do with the shop is all,” she said, nudging him. “What else did you pick up on today?” She was always amazed to the extent he picked up on things even whilst appearing not to notice. “I think your mum and Andromeda had fun; and Bill and Fleur are having a row,” Harry said. “Are they?” Ginny asked, looking over to where Bill stood with George, arms crossed and watching him Charm the fireworks. Fleur was nowhere in sight. “She took Victoire home about an hour ago,” Harry said. “Bill stayed behind.” “Oh,” Ginny said. She’d missed that entirely. “Mum said she thought it was time they started thinking about another baby. It probably hacked her off.” Harry shifted, not quite looking at her. It was funny the things that embarrassed him. She supposed the way her family was all into each other’s private business could be rather disconcerting. He was still such a private person. “Urg. I have practice tomorrow. Gwenog is going to be brutal since our last one went so poorly,” Ginny said, knowing she should go home and get a good night’s rest, but not wanting to leave, either. Her last practice had been an unmitigated disaster, and she didn’t even want to think about what was in store for her in order to make up for it. “Not flying up to snuff, eh,” Harry asked, knocking his foot into hers. “It wasn’t me,” she said indignantly, twisting her body to face him. “My flying was impeccable as always. It was Theresa’s fault. She couldn’t seem to process the new formation Gwenog was trying to show her.” Harry raised an eyebrow. “What formation? She’s the Seeker.” “The Seeker is still part of the team and needs to know what the different formations mean,” she said primly. Harry let out a very unflattering snort of laughter. “What, are you angling to become captain or something?” he asked, not even bothering to conceal his amusement. “Don’t think I still won’t hex your bits if you annoy me too much,” she said, frowning. “You won’t,” he said, sounding smug. “Oh, really? Be careful what you wish for,” she said, resting her head back on his shoulder. He really could be a prat when he wanted. “Nope. Still my birthday, you can’t hex me on my birthday, Whisky. I thought we’d already established that.” “Keep calling me that and I might bend the rules.” “Ha! Who are you kidding? You like it,” he said, planting a kiss on the top of her head. “I do not. I’ve never liked those cute, mushy nicknames people call one another. It’s revolting,” she said, pulling a face. “‘Whisky’ isn’t cute or mushy, which is why you like it,” he said smugly. “And why you’re okay saying it, I’d wager. You could never bring yourself to call me ‘baby’ or ‘snookums’,” she said. “‘Snookums’?” he asked, sounding revolted. “See! You could barely get that out of your mouth, and don’t think I didn’t notice the drop in your voice when you did. What would you do if I yelled out right now not to call me ‘Snookums’?” she asked, delighted. Though he tried, Harry couldn’t stop himself looking around wildly, which only made her laugh more. “I think I’d rather you hexed my bits,” he muttered. “That can still be arranged.” |
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