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Butterflies and Black Eyes | ||||||
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Category: Post-OotP Characters:None Genres: Humor, Romance Warnings: None Story is Complete Rating: PG Reviews: 20 Summary: Mrs. Weasley refuses to let Hermione's black eye wait until they go to Diagon Alley. This small change results in a butterfly effect that changes Harry and Ginny's relationship in a way that neither anticipate. Canon through chapter 5 of HBP. Hitcount: Story Total: 7133; Chapter Total: 1201 |
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“Here, dear, try this,” Mrs. Weasley said as she handed Hermione a tiny brass pot and conjured a small floating mirror. “It should cover up that bruise for now.” Harry watched as Hermione dabbed the powder with a small brush and worked it around her eye. Seeing Hermione apply makeup like one of the giggling girls from Hogwarts gave him an odd sense that something was wrong in the world. “Zat is not how you apply zis sort of thing,” Fleur interrupted, snatching the brush from Hermione and earning dirty looks from Ginny and Mrs. Weasley. Ron leaned forward in his chair as the cosmetic arts interested him for the first time. Fleur whipped the brush around Hermione’s eye with incredible ease. Harry had the sense of watching Rembrandt or Van Gogh paint a masterpiece. After a few seconds, Fleur leaned back to inspect her work. It was flawless. The bruise had completely disappeared. “Blimey,” Ron sputtered. “It looks better than her other eye.” Hermione shot him a withering look as Ginny slapped the back of his head. “Thank you for the compliment, Ron, you always know just what to say.” Harry was about to return to contemplating his Auror-less career path when the area around Hermione’s eye began to bubble. The black eye reappeared darker than before. Mrs. Weasley threw her hands in the air. “That does it!” she snapped. “Where did I put those Howlers?” A worried expression appeared on Ginny’s face. “Who wants to play Quidditch?” she asked in a tone that indicated it wasn’t a question. Hermione, Ron, and Harry scrambled to their feet and followed her out the door. It was a pleasant time playing two-a-side Quidditch in the Weasley’s orchard. After some experimentation, they discovered the most balanced teams were Harry and Hermione against Ron and Ginny. “You’re a lock for chaser,” Harry told Ginny as the foursome stowed their brooms back in the stone outhouse. “I’d wager you’re even an upgrade over Angelina.” Ginny smiled at the praise. “I wonder who the new captain will be,” Ron pondered. “Probably Katie, she’s got the most experience.” “Oh, it’s Harry for sure,” Ginny replied confidently as they strode across the garden. The declaration paused Harry mid-stride. “What?” “You’re by far the best player and everyone respects you. Not to mention,” Ginny poked Harry’s ribs with a gleam in her eye, “you just demonstrated you have a tremendous aptitude for evaluating talent.” “But I was banned,” Harry said, not wanting to acknowledge the growing hope inside of him. “I’m sure they overturned that along with all of that old toad’s rules,” Hermione said as Ron held the door open for them. “If you’re captain, are you going to make me try-out again for keeper?” Ron asked. Harry acted as though he hadn’t heard the question. The rest of the day passed in happy, peaceful relaxation. Hermione told them about her holiday to Hastings to visit the battlefield. Ron and Ginny asked a million questions that revealed their total ignorance of non-magical history. Harry was far from knowledgeable about those sorts of things, but even he had heard of William the Conqueror and the date 1066. As the discussion wound down, Ginny excused herself. “Where are you going?” Ron asked. “To my room,” Ginny replied. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I need to write a letter to Dean.” “Dean?” Ron scowled. “I’m not fond of you hopping between boys like a . . . a-“ “Don’t finish that sentence,” Ginny growled. “Dean’s a nice bloke,” Harry said, earning himself a smile from Ginny and a look of betrayal from Ron. “Ginny can take care of herself,” Hermione added. “I just don’t want you to get a reputation,” Ron said as he folded his arms. “A reputation like yours?” Ginny shot back. “A sixth-year who’s never gone out with anyone?” Harry made frantic eye-contact with Hermione, wordlessly begging her to calm the situation down. Hermione lay her hand gently on Ron’s shoulder. “Ron, she’s not going to get a reputation from writing a letter.” Ron opened his mouth and closed it a few times in succession before sighing in frustration and rolling his eyes. “Fine,” he grumbled. “Harry, do you mind if I borrow Hedwig for this one? Mum wants to keep our owls here in case of emergency.” Harry looked back and forth between the two flame-haired Weasleys. Ron narrowed his eyes at Harry. Harry shifted his glance to Ginny’s bright brown eyes. Remembering how awful he felt when Cho cried, he decided Ron’s anger would be easier to bear than Ginny’s disappointment. “Hedwig would love to get out and stretch her wings,” Harry said, bracing himself for Ron’s response.” “Great!” Ginny said brightly and left the room. Ron punched Harry in the shoulder. “You’re aiding and abetting turning my sister into a, you know.” “Scarlet woman?” Hermione asked as she arced a dark eyebrow. Later that evening, the trio was relaxing on a large blanket in the garden after a post-dinner Quidditch session. Ginny was continuing to practice in preparation for the school year. They were silently enjoying the summer night when two cracks heralded the arrival of the twins. “Blimey Hermione,” George said as they walked up. “You got us a right scolding,” Fred finished. “Sorry, we forgot about the punching telescopes.” He pulled a tub out of his pocket and handed it to her; she unscrewed it gingerly to reveal a thick yellow paste. “Just dab it on, that bruise’ll be gone within the hour,” said Fred. “We had to find a decent bruise remover.” “We’re testing most of our products on ourselves,” George explained. Hermione looked nervously at the paste. “It is safe, isn’t it?” she asked. “’Course it is,” said Fred bracingly. Mrs. Weasley had come sprinting out the door soon after the twins had arrived. After seeing it was them, she put away the wand that had been in her right hand, ready for action. After looking at Hermione’s eye and verifying that it was starting to fade, she pulled the twins into a tight hug. “I’m so glad to see you’re still safe,” she said through tears. “Could have fooled us after what you said earlier,” Fred muttered. “Please Mum,” George protested, “Being suffocated by our own mother would be an embarrassing way to go out. What would everyone say?” Mrs. Weasley released them, summoned glasses of pumpkin juice for everyone, and went back inside. After the twins had updated them on the latest at their store, the conversation turned toward the Quidditch team next year. Harry was again surprised to hear the twins’ vote of confidence that he would be selected as captain. “Of course, the biggest reason not to have Harry as captain is this bloke right here,” Fred said, gesturing to Ron. George nodded in agreement. “I’d make Harry swear that he would keep Ron off the team first.” Ron threw one of the enchanted apples they had been using at George’s head. He lazily turned it into a paper airplane with a flick of his wrist. Fred started and gazed off into the distance beyond the Burrow. “How’s that?” Everyone jumped to their feet. Harry instinctively grasped for his wand before remembering he had left it inside. “I don’t see anything,” Ron gasped. “What is it?” “It was a shooting star; I made a wish,” Fred said proudly. Everyone else groaned as they relaxed. Ron took several large swigs from his glass. Harry caught the ghost of a smirk on George’s face and immediately looked at his own juice. Before he could conduct a further examination, Ginny strode up, looking especially windswept, and snatched the glass from his hand. She downed its contents in one gulp. “Thanks Harry,” she said with a smile. “I was parched.” Harry looked back at Fred and George, whose faces had turned white. “What did you do to our drinks?” Harry demanded. Hermione spit out her own mouthful. “What?!” Ginny reached for her own wand before coming to the same realization as Harry. “What did you prats just do to me?” she growled. Fred and George looked at them for a few seconds. “Apparently nothing,” George answered. “It looks like our pills need a little bit more work,” Fred added. “Don’t worry Hermione, we only put them in Harry and Ron’s glasses.” “What were they supposed to do?” Ron snapped. “They were supposed to change the contents from pumpkin juice to something else. We thought it would be a laugh to see how Harry and Ron reacted.” Fred said evasively. “Change it to what?” Ginny asked, relaxing due to the prank’s failure. “Firewhiskey,” George admitted sheepishly. “We both thought Ron would choke on it, but I bet George a galleon that Harry would keep a straight-“ George’s sentence was cut-off as Ron doubled over, grasping his stomach. Ginny fell to her knees and dry-heaved. “Or maybe it was just delayed,” Fred said, raising an eyebrow. “Looks like the formula needs some tweaking.” “Was it a direct transfiguration, or did you alter the ratio?” Hermione gasped. She looked at her fingers and did some quick mental math. “That would be the equivalent of . . . 8 to 10 drinks!” She looked around in horror. Ron’s face was screwed in pain as he gritted his teeth. “Ron, Ron!” Hermione shrieked. “You need to vomit!” She grabbed his hair and attempted to stick two fingers down his throat. “Get your bloody hand out of my mouth, witch!” Ron bellowed as he thrashed around, attempting to pull away. Harry knelt next to Ginny. “Are you alright?” he asked. She slowly nodded. “I think I’m okay. The nausea is passing. My stomach feels like its glowing.” “That’s because you’re about to experience alcohol poisoning!” Hermione frantically ran her fingers through her hair. She looked at the twins. “Does your mother keep a bezoar on hand?” “Don’t worry,” Fred said reassuringly. “Alcohol isn’t poisonous to wizards, it just makes us drunk. It’s only dangerous if you drink too much.” “WHAT DO YOU THINK ALCOHOL POISONING IS?” Hermione shouted. “THEY JUST HAD WAY TOO MUCH!” George looked at Ron for a few seconds with mirth on his face which abruptly disappeared when he looked at Ginny. “Fred, I think we should go keep an eye on the shop,” George said. “Great idea,” Fred said. They both quickly jogged up the path. Sharp cracks advertised their departure. “We need to go get your mother,” Hermione declared, spinning to go inside. “No!” Ron and Ginny shouted simultaneously. “We’ll be fine, you’re always worrying,” Ron said, the subtle hint of a slur lurking behind his speech. “Mum would-hic-kill us,” Ginny added. “Even if she-hic-believed us. Let’s just stay out here until it-hic-wears off.” “Am I the only one here who knows how alcohol works?” Hermione demanded. “It won’t wear off until tomorrow.” “Okay, how about this,” Harry said, taking Hermione’s arm to calm her down. She clutched his shirt. Ron threw him a strange look. “We stay out here until everyone else goes to bed. I’ll help Ron to his room, you’ll help Ginny to her room, and they’ll sleep it off.” There was a long pause. “Okay,” she responded. “But you need to make sure he doesn’t go to sleep on his back. If he’s vomiting, you have to stay awake so he doesn’t choke on it.” Harry nodded. “I will.” “And you two need to hydrate! I’ll be right back.” Hermione walked briskly inside. Ron tilted his head as he openly stared at her retreating backside. Ginny flicked his ear. “Pig.” Harry lay on his back and studied the stars as the Weasleys fell deeper into the well of inebriation. Hermione watched them intently, making sure they didn’t injure themselves. She had already confiscated their brooms while muttering something about drink-driving and had forbade them from being anywhere near the pond. Ron and Ginny had started a game of it and were chasing each other around. The game rapidly spun out of control as neither could move in a straight line, and it ended with both of them collapsing on the lawn. Ron slowly stood and wandered a few yards away, turning his back to everyone else. The sound of liquid hitting the ground filled the air. “Ron!” Hermione shouted, her upper lip wrinkling in disgust. Harry stepped over to where Ginny lay in the grass. “How are you doing?” he asked as he squatted down next to her. “Marvelous,” Ginny laughed, her eyes flashing. “I know I’ll feel awful in the morning, so I have to enjoy it now. Help me up?” Harry extended his hand and helped her to her feet. She looked up at him. “Wow, you got tall.” It was immediately obvious from her speech how far into intoxication she had travelled. She stared at him for a few seconds. “Yes, I suppose so,” Harry said, his cheeks growing uncomfortably warm in the cool night air. “You’re going to be fighting the girls off at Hogwarts,” Hermione added. Ron hurriedly finished urinating and whipped around. “What the bloody hell do you mean by that?” Hermione gave Ron a quick look of disdain. “Everyone knows you’ve been telling the truth now, don’t they? The whole Wizarding world has had to admit that you were right about Voldemort being back and that you really have fought him twice in the last two years and escaped both times. And now they’re calling you ‘the Chosen One’ ” well, come on, can’t you see why the girls are going to be after you?” Ginny scowled. “Don’t go getting a big head there ‘Chosen One.’ I’ll hex you if you start acting like Malfoy.” “And you’ve been through all that persecution from the Ministry when they were trying to make out you were unstable and a liar. You can still see the marks on the back of your hand where that evil woman made you write with your own blood, but you stuck to your story anyway.” “You can still see where those brains got hold of me in the Ministry, look,” said Ron, raising his forearms. Hermione ignored Ron. “And, like Ginny said, you’ve grown about a foot over the summer.” Ron frowned at Hermione. “I’m tall,” he slurred. Ginny put her arm around Harry and leaned against him. A flowery scent filled his nostrils. “Dean’s tall.” Ginny said wistfully. A dreamy countenance not unlike Luna’s emerged. “He’s taller than you.” “Yeah, I suppose,” Harry said, finding himself irritated for some reason. “He’s really strong,” Ginny said, twisting a lock of red hair in her fingers. “I think he does Muggle exercises.” Harry self-consciously looked down at his arms. Regretting the times Ron and he had mocked Dean behind his back for doing push-ups in the dormitory, Harry made a mental note to try them some time. Two cracks sounded. “Are those prats coming to fix us?” Ginny said, turning toward the source of the disruption. The apparating duo was not the twins, but Bill and Fleur returning from a night out. Hermione froze. Ron attempted to strike a nonchalant pose but lost his balance and collapsed in the grass with a loud groan. Ginny grabbed Harry’s upper-arm with an iron grip and stood stock still. “Of course Phlegm would show up,” she said to Harry in what she thought was a whisper but was actually quite loud. “What are you four up to?” Bill called out as he strode over to them. “Nothing,” Hermione said a little too agitatedly. Bill noticed Ginny clinging to Harry and peered at them with suspicion. “Oh, he won’t care,” Ginny slurred. “Fred and George dosed Ron and me with Firewhiskey, and we’re waiting out here so Mum won’t kill us.” Bill chuckled as Fleur put her hand to her mouth in shock. “I cannot believe ze twins would do such a thing. It is illegal! Also, to have to drink zat dreadful stuff instead of a nice French wine-” Bill snagged Fleur’s hand and resumed their walk toward the Burrow. “Don’t make any poor decisions,” he called out over his shoulder. “Have fun tomorrow morning.” “Is there something you can do to help them?” Hermione shouted at their retreating backs. “Not my area of expertise,” Bill yelled as they entered the house. Ginny took the opportunity provided by Hermione’s distraction to dash toward the pond. “Last one in is a flubberworm!” Ron took off after her, bellowing “WHOO!” at the top of his lungs. Hermione squealed. “I told you to stay away from there!” Hermione sprinted after them. Harry jogged behind. Ginny had a head start, but Ron’s long legs enabled him to close the gap. They hit the water at about the same time. Hermione looked around anxiously as Harry arrived next to her on the bank. “Is there a rope we can throw them?” Hermione asked breathlessly. “They’re fine, look,” Harry said, pointing to Ginny and Ron as they stumbled around in knee-deep water. Ron kicked water at Ginny and staggered away, cackling at his joke. Ginny bent down to return fire with a handful of water when she lost her balance and plunged beneath the water. Hermione gasped and was about to enter the pond when Ginny stood back up, water cascading down her back. She tossed her hair behind her head and waded toward the shore. Harry’s jaw dropped. Ginny’s wet clothing clung to her body and revealed things he had never realized were there. The realization that Ron’s little sister was becoming a woman slammed into him harder than the Hogwarts Express. The temperature was nippy in more ways than one. Ginny looked up at Harry, her eyes shining with a fiery joy. Harry snapped his mouth closed and quickly looked away toward Ron. After a few seconds, Harry dared to look back at Ginny. She was only a few feet away now. Due to her proximity, Harry was limited to stealing a glance at her face. How had he never seen how gorgeous she was with her bright brown eyes and deep red lips? Harry could not think about anything else for the rest of the night. The remaining time until the lights inside the Burrow blinked out and they snuck back inside passed in a blur. All Harry could think about was that form emerging from the water in slow-motion. He replayed it in his mind until he finally fell asleep. |
| Reviews 20 |
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