Thanks very much to my awesome betas, Sherylyn, Arnel and Sue. They really helped me form this story, and their reactions always motivate me to keep going.
Special thanks to Eslon and JHA from the Harry and Ginny Discord for Brit picking and sports ball help. They both gave me numerous pointers on how League football works.
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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: 112773; Chapter Total: 5380 Awards: View Trophy Room Author's Notes: |
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Quidditch The day of the Quidditch Exhibition Match dawned clear and hot, the temperatures promising to rise much warmer than typical Quidditch conditions. Harry knew that Ginny was clever enough to keep casting cooling charms, but he was still worried. He didn’t want to see her toppling from her broom because of a heat stroke or anything. There was enough going on in their lives to be getting on with. Though the Ministry had been monitoring the cases of the rogue Spattergroit intently, they’d all remained on the western border, near Wales, and nothing even close to London. The Department of Magical Games and Sports had argued vociferously that the match should be allowed to go on as scheduled. Since all their efforts and resources were focused on the English/Welsh border, they really didn’t have a leg to stand on in cancelling it. As of yet, the facts didn’t back up their concerns. Harry had sent a missing person inquiry to the police in Queensferry, hoping to identify the mystery Muggle whose remains had been found in Gwilym Gethin’s lab, but as yet, he hadn’t made a connection. Perhaps this Muggle would be the key. He was looking forward to the match and a day to just clear his head. He often found after such an occasion, that he was able to make a breakthrough in stubborn cases in the past, so he was hoping this time would hold true to form. Today wasn’t about his job, however, it was about Ginny’s — his Ginny, who always supported him unquestioningly — well, unless he was being a prat. How lucky was he that by supporting her, he got to attend a Quidditch match? Poor Ginny only ever had to hear about investigations into Dark magic or attend boring Ministry functions. He had the far better end of that deal. There had been a time when he’d believed this kind of happiness wasn’t possible for someone like him. He was enjoying proving fate wrong. Still damp from his shower, he stood in front of his wardrobe, a towel loosely hanging from his hips, as he perused his many Quidditch jerseys — most of them Holyhead Harpies ones, of course — picking out which one he’d wear today. Andromeda and Teddy were joining all the Weasleys to attend the match, so Harry picked out his jersey that matched the one he’d given Teddy for his birthday. It had WEASLEY printed across the back. He'd just pulled it over his head when Ginny bustled into the room, pulling off the earrings Harry had given her last Christmas and laying them carefully on her dresser. No jewelry was allowed to be worn during a Quidditch match. “You’re running behind schedule again, I see,” he said, trying to control his grin. Some things about Weasleys never changed. The players were required to meet in the locker room well before the fans started filling the stands. “I’m right on schedule,” Ginny said, tilting her chin upwards. She wore a track suit that highlighted her backside nicely, and Harry followed her progress across the room. Players would change into their match kit once they reached the stadium. “See something you like, Potter?” she asked, smirking. She always caught him when he was staring, but she never seemed to mind. “What’s not to like?” he asked, reaching for her, but she danced out of his grip, her eyes sparkling merrily. “Uh-uh, I definitely don’t have time for that.” “Oh, come on, Gin. We’ll make it quick,” he said, reaching out again. “How many times do I have to tell you not to call me Gin? Ginny is already a nickname, there’s no need to shorten it further,” she said. They’d had this discussion numerous times in the past. In fact, she usually corrected anyone who tried to call her Gin. Harry had been searching for a pet name she’d find acceptable with no luck as of yet. She’d never been much of a fan of them. “How about Whisky, if you don’t like Gin?” he asked, pulling her against him. Her eyes were dancing playfully, and he knew she wasn’t really worried about being late. “Whisky? Where did that come from?” she asked, laughing. “Your eyes match the color when the light hits them,” he said. “Makes me feel all warm inside.” Those very eyes softened slightly, but she shook her head and said, “You can be really sweet when you’re not trying to be.” She tugged on his towel, which fell to the floor, leaving him topless on the bottom. “But I still have to get to the pitch. I’ll look for you in the stands. We’ll have to take care of this later.” With that, she kissed him chastely, lightly tapping his growing arousal, and hurried out the door. Harry grinned, noting she hadn’t outright shot down the nickname. This would require further investigation. Taking a few deep breaths, he quickly finished dressing and met Ron, George and Hermione down in the kitchen. George and Hermione were both decked out in Harpies’ green and gold, but typically, Ron was bedecked in Chudley Cannons Orange. “Ron, the Cannons aren’t even playing. Couldn’t you support your sister for one match?” Harry asked, exasperated. “My pants are green,” Ron said, swallowing a huge mouthful of porridge. “Want to see?” Harry glanced at Hermione. “Is that true?” Hermione grabbed the waistband of Ron’s jeans and tugged outwards, peering down. “Yes, actually. They’re green with little gold Snitches,” she said, giggling. George snorted with laughter as Harry forcefully shut his eyes, taking a moment to shake off the image. “Is Andromeda meeting us here, Harry?” Hermione asked, shoving a bowl of porridge toward him. “No,” Harry said, shaking his head. “She’s going to meet us at the stadium. I warned her there would probably be a lot of press.” Teddy really didn’t like it when the reporters swarmed, barking questions and snapping pictures. They often tried to engage the child and get his picture, which only infuriated Harry, frightening Teddy further. Both Harry and Andromeda tried to limit his exposure as much as possible. “You’re right about that. Maybe we should all go on ahead, so we don’t have to deal with the nuisance of being seen with ‘His Holy and Most Beloved Savior,’” George said, nudging Harry in the ribs. George frequently came up with new and outlandish titles for Harry. He’d even tried to sell a line of T-shirts at the shop before Harry forbade it. George insisted he still got requests for them and had a thriving black-market business for the best titles. “Oh, that’s right. This should be your first public appearance since Witch Weekly named you the ‘Most Eligible Bachelor in Britain,’ isn’t it?” Ron asked, cackling. There had been a time when that title might’ve caused intense envy and jealousy in Ron, but now, after the war and all it entailed, he just seemed to find it endlessly amusing. There was a lot of life that annoyed Harry that Ron seemed to find amusing. “Oh, you’re right. Witches will be vying for your attention even at your girlfriend’s match. Whatever you do, don’t accept anything from anyone to eat or drink, Harry,” Hermione said, frowning. “Don’t I know it?” Harry asked, shuddering. He’d had enough experience with people trying to slip him love potions, starting off with Romilda Vane back at Hogwarts. “Yes, best to not even trust the concession stand today. Let Ron or me get anything you need,” Hermione said. “I’m not getting him anything,” Ron said. “I’ve already been poisoned once by one of his love-crazed fans.” Harry tossed a piece of toast that bounced off Ron’s head. Ron picked it up, tearing off a huge bite. “I’ll be on Harry-duty today, then,” George said, taking his own slice of toast. “I’ll pretend I’m a house-elf and sample anything before you eat or drink it.” “That’s not funny, George! It’s exactly attitudes like that I’m trying to expose,” Hermione said, glaring at Harry. He didn’t want to spend the day arguing with Hermione, so he kept his attention on George, “Thanks, mate. I’ll try and steer you away from anyone that looks too crazy.” “Not to worry there. I always carry an antidote on my person for just such occasions,” George replied. “You carry a love potion antidote regularly?” Hermione asked, obviously uncertain whether he was joking or not. “I do. Some witches just can’t bear the thought of going through life without me,” George said, quite seriously. Ron snorted and threw another piece of toast at him. It hit George’s chest and fell back onto the table. Before George could respond, the sound of the front door closing alerted them all that someone had entered the house. All four of them grabbed their wands, as there weren’t that many people who could simply enter, and the majority of them were supposed to meet them in the stands. They all relaxed when Angelina Johnson skipped down the stairs into the kitchen, wearing a dark green Harpies’ jersey that hung well below her tiny shorts, making her appear nearly indecent. “Angelina!” Hermione said, smiling widely. “I didn’t know you were joining us. George, why didn’t you say she was coming?” “Didn’t know myself,” George said scowling, putting his wand back in his pocket. Angelina shrugged, sitting at the counter between Hermione and Harry. “I had the ticket, and I wasn’t about to miss Quidditch,” she said, shrugging and ignoring George completely. “We’re glad to have you,” Harry said, smirking. “George was just telling us how he had to watch out for mad witches. Now you can look after him.” George picked up the discarded piece of toast and tossed it at Harry’s head. He ducked it smoothly. “The rest of the Weasleys are meeting us there,” Ron said, reaching out to grab the toast and taking another huge bite. “I think it’s going to be packed. I know all the other teams have representatives going for the St Mungo’s presentation before the match. I saw Oliver, and he said it was a good chance to scout out the competition and still benefit the hospital,” Angelina said. “Why didn’t you tell him to join us here?” George asked, looking at her for the first time. “He’s representing Puddlemere with one of his teammates, so he has to sit with the rest of the presenters. Besides, he’s been trying to get Freesia Martin from the Magpies to go out with him, so he’ll probably be wearing their colors,” Angelina said, still looking rather frostily at George. “Traitor,” Ron mumbled. “Hark! Look who’s talking in his Cannon colors,” Harry said, indignant on Ginny’s behalf. “Cannons aren’t playing. It’s not the same,” Ron said, shrugging. “I’m surprised you managed to get the day off to attend,” Angelina said, pinning George with her stare. “He’s been working on expanding the mail order business to give him more time away,” Ron said, still chewing. Harry was pleased yet surprised to see Ron supporting George in his dispute with Angelina, but that feeling dissolved a moment later when Ron said, “It’s a good thing, too. He’s been a right bear to live with on the few times we’ve actually seen him.” Harry shook his head, still surprised at the oblivious way Ron could stick his foot in it. “Shall we get going?” he asked before George and Angelina started bickering. “It’s a beautiful day, and since there aren’t any other matches, the stands will probably fill up fast.” The Harpies had a family box where the Weasleys sat for Ginny’s matches, and they’d got to know a lot of the other players’ families. Still, there were an awful lot of them, and no one wanted to be left out. The Harpies’ practice facilities were located in Wales, and the Magpies’ were in Scotland, but for this exhibition match, it was being held on neutral territory where the English National team played. They cleared their breakfast dishes — Harry carefully Vanishing all the crumbs from the tossed toast — and Apparated to the stadium. As expected, it was packed and chaotic on the stadium grounds. The sun was beating down, and vendors tried to sell their wares to the milling crowds slowly making their way toward the stands. Groups of fans were already rowdy outside small tents selling spirits and Quidditch paraphernalia. The group of friends hadn’t gone far before Harry was spotted by the press, and they converged upon them. “Mr. Potter, Mr. Potter — over here, Mr. Potter!” “You’re wearing Holyhead Harpy colors, so you’ll be supporting them today?” “Is it true you’re leaving the Aurors to play for the Appleby Arrows?” Harry kept his head ducked low, determinedly not making eye contact with any of them as Ron led the way through the throng toward the lifts that would take them up to their box. From the corner of his eye, he saw Angelina trip one reporter who was hurrying to catch up to them. Hermione kept repeating, “No comment. No comment.” But it didn’t do any good. They ignored her and kept shouting their questions. “Harry, look this way!” “Are you matching the donations made today?” “Harry, can you confirm the rumor that the Tornados are interested in trading for Ginny Weasley? Would she be upset by such a trade?” One aggressive reporter managed to get his recording stylus right into Harry’s face, banging it into his lip. “No comment, now get out of my way,” Harry snapped, his lip smarting as he pulled his face away. Flashbulbs went off all around him, causing him to see stars before once again ducking his head. “You heard the man, MOVE! Or he’ll do the same to you as he did to Voldemort,” George bellowed, causing most of the press and the surrounding crowd to shriek. It caused a break in the crowd as people hurried to get away from them, and George pushed them all through, grabbing Hermione, who had slipped, before she touched the ground. “Over here, Mr. Potter!” “Harry, is it true that you and Miss Weasley have eloped?” “Mr. Potter, I’ve heard rumors of the Ministry investigating an illness spreading in Wales, any comment?” George and Ron grabbed Harry by each arm and frog-marched him into a lift, letting Hermione, Angelina and a woman with two teenagers slip in under their arms, but blocking any of the press from getting on the lift until the doors closed, cutting off their voices. “Remind me why we go anywhere with you again,” Ron said, wiping sweat off his forehead. The woman who’d joined them on the lift was pushed into the back corner, her arms wrapped around her children. “Are you all right?” Hermione asked kindly. “Sorry about all that.” The woman nodded mutely, her bulging eyes fixed on Harry, gaping like a fish. “Hey, aren’t you Ginny Weasley’s boyfriend?” the little girl asked, staring up at Harry. She was about eleven and dressed from head to toe in Harpies’ colors right down to her trainers, which bore a gold talon along the side. “I saw your picture at the post-season Quidditch banquet.” Her brother, who was about thirteen and wearing a Montrose Magpie jersey elbowed her hard in the side, “Nora, shut it!” Harry, thoroughly delighted, said, “Yes, Nora, I actually am.” “I’m a huge fan. I want to play Chaser when I get to Hogwarts, too, but they don’t let first years bring a broom,” the girl said, scowling and ignoring both her mother and brother who were tugging at her sleeves. “That’s a shame, isn’t it?” Harry asked seriously. He was trying to ignore the face Ron was making on the family’s other side. The brother buried his face in his hands. He looked as if he wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole. When the lift finally stopped, the mother, her face scarlet, ushered both of her children out and toward their seats. “Nice to meet you,” Harry called. “You moronic idiot!” the brother exclaimed as the doors closed once again, and they all burst into raucous laughter. “Too bad they don’t let ickle first-years play, eh, Harry?” George asked, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. “Oh, that poor thing when her brother tells her who you really are,” Angelina said, leaning against George as she tried to get herself back in control. “He really shouldn’t have called her a moronic idiot, though. That wasn’t very nice,” Hermione said fretfully. “It doesn’t matter. Did you see how she was dressed? She’s all about the Harpies, and she was right. I am Ginny’s boyfriend,” Harry said, grinning so widely his jaw was beginning to hurt. “Aw, don’t tell Ginny about this, mate. She’ll be unbearable,” Ron said. “Oh, he’s so going to tell her first chance,” George said, shaking his head. “If he doesn’t, I will,” Hermione said, smiling. The lift stopped again, this time on the level where the private boxes were located. They walked down the corridor to where the family box was and filed inside. It was already fairly crowded, but they spotted a bunch of red heads in the lower left corner and made their way towards them. “Unca Hawyyyy,” Teddy shouted, spotting them first. He bolted from Andromeda’s arms and ran pell-mell up the aisle toward them. Harry scooped him up and tossed him in the air, earning delighted squeals from the over-excited toddler. As he’d expected, Teddy was wearing a Harpies’ jersey that matched his own. His hair was jet black, as was typical whenever Harry was around. “Hey there, little mate. How many points is Aunt Ginny going to score today?” he asked. “About a million,” Teddy replied, grinning happily. “Sounds right to me.” Andromeda and Mrs. Weasley, who’d been sitting next to one another, both stood to greet the newcomers. Hugs were given all around, and Mrs. Weasley pulled Angelina into the seat beside her. Harry saw George roll his eyes, and he suspected Mrs. Weasley was going to try and get all the answers about what had been happening in the couple’s relationship out of Angelina since George had been so tight-lipped. Mr. Weasley sat in front of them with Bill, Percy and Audrey. Harry, Ron, Hermione and George filed into the seats in the very front row of the box. Teddy still clung to Harry’s neck, and he settled the little boy on his lap. Mr. Weasley greeted each of his sons and Harry with a slap on the back, and leaned over to kiss Hermione on each cheek. “Was Ginny fired up and ready to do battle today?” he asked eagerly. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley enjoyed Quidditch as much as their children did, and they derived particular joy in watching their daughter play. “She was, and I think Gwenog has them all ready to play,” Harry said, grinning. “Where’s Fleur? She’s not going to miss it, is she?” George asked Bill, who shook his head. “Victoire was feeling rather irritable this morning, so she decided not to subject you all to an ill-tempered toddler,” Bill said easily. He did look rather tired, but it was also only a few days after the full moon, and he knew Bill always found it difficult to sleep on those nights. “And we thank her for that,” Ron said, causing Hermione to elbow him in the ribs. “Ron! I do hope she’s all right,” Hermione said, scowling at Ron. “Oh, she’ll be all right. She has some teeth coming through along with a Veela temper,” Bill replied, chuckling. “Percy, Audrey,” Harry said, still feeling rather put out with them over the way Ginny had been treated at the robe fitting. Audrey appeared to have picked up on this as she smiled rather tremulously. Percy also looked rather nervous, and Harry suspected Audrey had filled him in. “Harry,” he said, sticking out his hand, “I say, how are you getting on with Vivian Scott? I hear she’s quite a handful.” “I like her. She’s very upfront with her expectations, and she follows through with her plans,” Harry replied coolly. Both Audrey’s and Percy’s faces colored slightly. “Hey, Teddy? What do you say we go and get us some candy floss, eh?” George asked. He always showered both Teddy and Victoire with entirely too many sweets and ducked out when the sugar rush hit them. “Yeah, let’s!” Teddy said, nodding his head vigorously and holding out his arms for George to scoop him up. “Oh, George, must you?” Andromeda asked, exasperated. George grinned wickedly. “I must.” “Harry, I’m going to the concession stand, too. What d’you want, Butterbeer or a pint?” Ron asked, his eyes following George’s progress out of the box. Harry thought about it for a moment. He usually tried to avoid anything stronger than Butterbeer when he had Teddy so he couldn’t be taken unawares, but Andromeda was here, plus all of the Weasleys, so he thought it would be all right. “I’ll take a pint,” Harry said. Ron nodded. “Anybody else want anything?” he asked the assorted Weasleys, who all had cups in their cup holders already. “I’ll take a pint,” Angelina said. “And some chips,” Hermione said as Ron began making his way up the aisle. “Don’t forget the chips.” “So, Harry, did I hear you say you’re enjoying working with Vivian Scott?” Mr. Weasley asked. “Yeah,” he said, shrugging. “Anyone who rows with Dolores Umbridge is okay in my book.” He saw Percy once again go red, but this time he felt bad about it. He hadn’t meant that one as a dig. “Who’s Vivian Scott?” Bill asked. “She’s an Unspeakable working on a case of Harry’s,” Mr. Weasley said smoothly. Bill grimaced, causing the scars that lined his face to stand out starkly. “Ew, I never could stomach that department. They always seemed sneaky to me.” “It is very difficult to get any information out of them,” Percy said. “It always has been,” Mr. Weasley said cheerfully. “I think they like it that way. Since no one is ever certain what they do, it gives them some job security.” “I suppose. Imagine sacking one right before he discovered a way to ensure no one was ever born a Squib or something?” Bill asked, shaking his head. Ron, George and Teddy returned with their beverages just as the players began emerging on the pitch. Teddy carried a huge pile of pink candy floss in one hand, and a giant lolly in the other. Andromeda shut her eyes as if pained. Ron handed a pint to Harry, who just had time to slip it into his cup holder before a sticky Teddy bounded back onto his lap. There was a podium in the center of the pitch, and a member of the Department of Magical Games and Sports magnified his voice, introducing a witch standing next to him as the Administrator from St Mungo’s. There were two Healers dressed in their green robes beside her. Two members of each team joined them around the podium. Harry could see Oliver and his team’s Seeker on his end. His eyes scanned for a sign of green, gold and red. “There they are! There they are! Hi, Aunt Ginny. It’s me! I’m over here,” Teddy shouted happily. He was right. Gwenog Jones and Ginny were the last to emerge, along with two Magpie players. Ginny smiled up at the box, but Harry knew she couldn’t really see them in this crowd. Teddy happily assumed she was smiling just at him. After a short presentation, most of the people returned to the end of the pitch while the rest of the teams playing took the field. Harry balanced Teddy on his hip as he began to sing the Harpies chant song, competing with the Magpies as they sang for their own team. Nothing was distinguishable, but it seemed support for each team was about equal. Since it was a friendly match, he assumed it wouldn’t be terribly exciting, but the thrill of being back at the pitch for a start of another season was good enough for him. The captains shook hands in the center of the pitch, and they were off. Ginny streamed passed their box, causing both Harry and Teddy to yell their heads off, and then she suddenly had the Quaffle. By now, all the rest of the Weasleys were on their feet, and when she scored the first goal, their section cheered so loudly, it felt as if the ground under them shook. “There you go, Teddy. Only nine hundred ninety-thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine goals left to go!” George said, ruffling the toddler’s hair. “No, she’s going to score a million,” Teddy said seriously. “Oh, right. My mistake,” George replied. Harry and George grinned over his head, then watched as the Magpie Chaser streaked toward the other end of the pitch. “That’s Freesia Martin — the one Oliver has been chasing,” Angelina said, watching the progress. Freesia tossed the Quaffle, but the Harpies’ Keeper managed to block it with the very end of her fingertips. “Oh, rotten luck for the Magpies,” the announcer called whilst the Harpies fans cheered again. Harry took a sip of his pint, feeling the hot sun blazing down on his neck causing him to sweat. Teddy was switching back and forth between his candy floss and his lolly, and Harry kept forcing sips of water on him in between. Once Teddy had consumed his sweets, he switched to Hermione’s lap in order to help her with her chips. The afternoon was spent with fun and laughter. It wasn’t the most exciting of matches as it was a friendly and all for a good cause. Teddy moved from lap to lap depending on who was eating something he wanted. Harry bought the next round of drinks, but found someone kept handing him another. The score mostly stayed balanced, but it didn’t stop Harry from yelling his head off whenever Ginny had the Quaffle. It wasn’t until later in the afternoon that Harry sat straight up, squinting his eyes into the still-blazing sun. He’d seen a tiny flitter of gold nearly directly in front of him, only on the opposite side of the pitch. The Harpies’ Seeker saw it a moment after he did and began her dive. “Grant has seen the Snitch,” he shouted to Ron, still watching intently. “Where?” Ron asked, his head jerking around. By then, the Magpies’ Seeker was also in pursuit, but it was too late. Theresa Grant had caught the Snitch, waving it in the air. The referee blew his whistle, and the celebratory Harpies converged on Theresa Grant. The final score was three hundred and fifty to one hundred ninety in the Harpies favor. After the match, and the post-match press interviews, and the overview by her captain detailing every little thing each player needed to work on in the coming weeks, Ginny was finally able to join her teammates in a bit of celebrating. Food and beverages were supplied, but it more low-key than a typical win since the match had been a friendly. Still, she could tell that, like her, her teammates were anxious for the official season to begin. She loved her job. Sometimes, she felt the need to pinch herself to be certain everything had really worked out the way it did after the war. If it weren’t for the aching bit of hollow in her heart that Fred used to fill, she’d assume it was a dream. Although the match wasn’t nearly as competitive as she liked, she’d still enjoyed being up in the air with the roar of the crowd below. She’d caught fleeting glimpses of her family in the stands, and they’d looked like they were having fun, but she was eager to get home and hear about it firsthand. It was close to seven in the evening before she finally arrived back on the steps of Grimmauld Place. As soon as she pushed open the door, she could hear music and loud voices filling the house. She followed the noise to find all her housemates still carrying on in the sitting room. Someone — George most likely — had provided a case of beer that was open on the coffee table. Ron and Hermione were snuggled together on the sofa, Hermione’s legs resting across Ron’s lap while he rested a bag of crisps on top of her shins. George was busy trying to find something on the Wireless. He and Harry sat on the two wing-backed armchairs across the coffee table from the sofa. Her eyes rested momentarily on Harry before anyone noticed her presence. He was grinning at something George was saying, but when he turned his head, she could see the back of his neck was a bright, scarlet color that made her wince just looking at it. “Oh, Harry, did you mess up your sun-block charm again?” she asked, walking over and brushing the hair off the back of his neck to get a better look. He shivered slightly at her touch. She could feel the heat radiating off his neck. His skin was usually as pale as hers — minus the freckles — but now it was glowing as bright as her hair. That was going to blister if he didn’t put something on it. “Ginny!” he said, squirming out of her grip and turning to face her fully. “When did you get here?” His usually bright green eyes were glazed and dull, not quite focused even though she was only a few feet in front of him. A silly grin spread across his face as he reached up a hand and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. He’d obviously imbibed his fair share at the match, and knowing him, he hadn’t eaten much all day, either. Still, he was impossibly cute in these unguarded moments. The others all greeted her, and she realized they were all a bit pissed. “Had fun today, did we?” she asked, amused. “I’m glad you could all enjoy yourselves while I was slaving away under the hot sun.” “It was great,” Ron said. “And no one feels bad for you having to work. Oh, and nice job starting things off with the first goal.” “Teddy really wanted to come back and see you, but he was rather cranky by the end, and Andromeda was hoping he’d go to bed early,” Hermione told her. “Mum and Dad told me to say congratulations, so… Congratulations from Mum and Dad,” George said, grinning. His eyes were also a bit unfocused. Ginny rolled her eyes, but still felt pleased. “You played really well. I saw Oliver watching you. I bet Puddlemere will try and entice you again when your contract is up,” he added. “I still think you should take the Cannons’ offer seriously, though,” Ron said. “I missed you,” Harry said, pulling her onto the chair beside him. He budged over to make room, but she ended up balancing half on the arm of the chair and half on top of him. “I like it so much better when we’re together.” Ginny groaned as she attempted to adjust herself on the chair. Despite the warm glow their words about other teams vying for her attention had given her, she glared at her brothers, demanding, “Which one of you has been feeding him drinks?” “Don’t know what you’re talking about,” George said airily. “He’s a big boy, he can get his own drinks,” Ron said simultaneously, stuffing a bunch of crisps in his mouth and spreading crumbs everywhere. Harry nuzzled his head onto her shoulder. He always became extremely affectionate when he’d had too much to drink. It was actually sort of sweet, but both Ron and George found far too much enjoyment in it, and encouraged it whenever possible. She knew who to blame for his condition tonight. Every bone in her body ached from holding herself so tensely on the broom all day. She reached over and took one of the brews from the coffee table before leaning back and trying to put her feet up. The chair was pushed too far back, however, and she was too short to reach. Typical. “I’m exhausted. My body isn’t nearly in Quidditch condition yet. I think I need to go and take a long soak in the tub,” she said, letting her head fall back against the back of the chair. “Can I come?” Harry asked eagerly. Ginny laughed as Ron groaned. “Maybe when I finish my drink,” she told Harry, more to wind Ron up than anything. Now that she was sitting, she didn’t think she’d ever be able to get back up again. “Okay,” Harry said happily. “I’ll wash your hair for you. You like when I do that.” “Harry, shut it now, or I’m going to have to hurt you,” Ron said, looking as if he’d just tasted something really foul. “Don’t you dare shout at him. You’re the one whose been feeding him pints all afternoon. Don’t think I don’t know it. You’re fully aware how he gets,” Ginny said, firing up at once. “He gets revolting,” George said, pulling a face, too. “And I also know that you were in on it, too, George Weasley. You can both suffer the consequences,” Ginny said, leaning back and glaring at the two of them. “Who’s in on what?” Harry asked, looking puzzled. His hair was standing straight up in the back, and she attempted to smooth it down, knowing full well it never lay flat. “I think Ron and George wound you up,” she said. Harry looked appalled. He pulled back slightly from her hand, glancing over at her brothers. “They wouldn’t do that. I love Ron and George. They’re like my best mates.” “I know they are,” she said, giggling again at his indignation. “And Hermione! Hermione is my best mate, too,” he said, smiling fondly at Hermione. “Thank you, Harry,” Hermione said. She’d slipped down so that her head was now lying flat on the sofa, her eyes beginning to droop. “What am I then?” Ginny asked in mock outrage. She couldn’t help herself winding him up in this condition — and it was a bonus that it was annoying Ron and George. Harry looked stricken. He took her face between his hands, pressing her cheeks in so her lips puckered and stared at her intently, “You’re better than my best mate. You’re my perfect partner, and you sometimes know what I want to say without me even having to say it at all.” “Wish now was one of those times,” Ron said, scowling. “Be quiet, Ron,” Ginny said, and she was happy to see Hermione kick him. “I love you, Ginny,” Harry said earnestly. “I love you, too, Harry. Did you have fun with my family today?” she asked, knowing how easily distracted he was when he got this way. If she let him go any further, he was liable to get down on one knee right here and now, and she definitely didn’t want an audience for that. And she also wanted him to remember it. A big grin spread across his face as he nodded, “Yes. Bill and Percy and Audrey were there. And Angelina! Angelina came with us,” Harry added the last part in a very loud whisper. Ginny snorted, fixing her stare on George, who curled in on himself slightly. “When did you invite Angelina? And why didn’t she come back here with you?”. “She barely spoke with me all day. She sat by Mum, who I saw interrogating her,” George said, looking rather surly. “Come off it. She had a few pints and joked with everyone,” Ron said. George shook his head. “She came because she likes Quidditch, not because she wanted to spend time with me.” Hermione let out an exasperated huff. “Oh, don’t be ridiculous, George. She could’ve gone to the match on her own, she had her ticket. She came here first, though.” George’s head shot up, staring at her as if this thought hadn’t crossed his mind. “Yeah, didn’t she say that she’d talked to Oliver Wood? She could’ve gone with him,” Ron said. “She obviously misses you, George, and I know you miss her. You need to work this out,” Ginny said imploringly. She was tired of seeing him moping. He’d come so far since the Battle, since losing Fred. It was painful to see him slipping backwards now. “I can’t work this out. She basically said it’s her or the shop,” George said dejectedly. “That is not what she said. She said you needed to make her more of a priority, which means getting some help at the shop, so you’re no so tied to it,” Hermione said. “I think that’s what you want, too,” Ginny said gently, wishing she could just fix this for him. “Yeah, George. You and Angelina love each other, and I love you both, too,” Harry said, and even George grinned weakly. “I’m working on it,” he said. “We know you are, and now she knows it, too. Both Ron and I talked to her a bit about it at the match,” Hermione said. George straightened up, staring at her. “You did? What did she say?” “She said exactly what we just told you. You know what you need to do, now you just need to do it,” Hermione said. “Maybe sending her some flowers wouldn’t be a bad idea, either,” Ginny added. “D’you want me to send you flowers, Ginny?” She reached over absently and patted him on the arm without taking her eyes off George. “Yes, that would be nice, Harry.” He tried to stand up, nearly knocking her off the chair, and she rolled her eyes. “Not right now, though, love. Tomorrow you can get me some flowers.” “Okay.” “Ask her out on a date — and whatever you do, don’t cancel on her,” Hermione said, ignoring Harry’s antics. “Yeah, be absolutely certain you can make it. Take her somewhere nice, too,” Ginny said “Remind her you fancy her,” Ron added. George nodded at them all as if taking notes. “Okay, flowers and then a date. She’ll probably say no.” “No, she won’t. Wait until tomorrow when you’re not pissed, though,” Ginny said. “And send the flowers first,” Hermione said, winking at Ginny. Ginny felt transported back to Hogwarts during her final year when she’d been accused of playing matchmaker by one of her dormmates. She suddenly missed both Siobhan and Liz terribly. It had been awhile since they’d all been together. She made a mental note to arrange something before too long. Hermione and Parvati Patil had returned to Hogwarts to complete their final year, and they’d joined Ginny and her two surviving dormmates. It had been one of the best things about being back at Hogwarts after the war. Meeting Hermione’s eyes across the coffee table, she suspected her friend was thinking about the same thing. “All right, I have my orders for tomorrow, so I’m heading to bed,” George said. “I am too, then,” Hermione said, pushing herself upright and taking her feet off Ron. “I was just waiting for someone else to say it first.” Ron rolled up the empty bag of crisps and tossed it on the coffee table. When he noticed both Hermione and Ginny staring at him, he said, “I know I have to clean it up. I’ll do it the morning.” Ginny tugged Harry to his feet and they all bid one another good night. She led Harry upstairs and into their bedroom. He was unsteady on his feet, and he kept listing sideways into her, making them both giggle as they climbed. Once they’d finally made it to their room, she led him inside. He sat on the bed looking confused as to how he got there while she took off his socks and trainers. “I love you, Whisky,” he said, watching her tenderly. She laughed, surprised he’d remembered his attempt at finding a nickname that morning. She had to admit, it was kind of cute, especially coming from him with his hair mussed up even more than usual, and his eyes all glazed. Pulling him to his feet, she tugged off his jeans and pushed him back on the bed. His Whisky was going to have her way with him. She’d promised him that morning, after all, and a Weasley always kept her promises. |
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