Authors Notes:
Thank you to Rachael, Disha and Paul for their invaluable beta-ing skills and support.
Disclaimer:
Harry Potter and the derivatives thereof belong to J.K. Rowling (et al.). No profits are being made from this fanfiction and no copyright infringement is intended.
July 2, 1996
Harry,
How's your summer been so far? Hopefully it's been better than normal thanks to the warning Moody gave the muggles. There's not much going on around here, at least not much that I know about. I can tell you that we're staying at the Burrow and hopefully I'll be able to fill you in on anything else when I see you.
How are you? Do you want to talk? Seriously mate, I know Hermione is probably better at this kind of stuff, but I'm still here for you if you need me.
Ron
July 9, 1996
Dear Harry,
How are you feeling? I know the experiences you have had within the last month or so have been rough and painful. Please remember that we care about you and if you ever need anything, anything at all, do not hesitate to ask.
As I am sure Ron has told you, we are here at the Burrow. Hermione is coming to join us in two weeks time and we are hopeful you will as well, so long as Dumbledore gives the okay.
I hate to think about you being there all by yourself. Are your relatives treating you well? I can only imagine how hard it is, especially now, but as Arthur would say you can persevere. Just try not to let them get to you.
All my love,
Molly Weasley
July 15th, 1996
Hello Harry,
I'm still at home right now and thought you might enjoy a letter.
I'm feeling much better now and am off the potions Madam Pomfrey prescribed. My parents weren't too happy to find out about You-Know-Who, but with reassurance from the headmaster they're not as panicked as I had imagined. They're worried about you too, actually.
How have you been? I know you're not fine so don't try that. It must be terrible to be with those awful relatives of yours. I was hoping to telephone you before I leave for the Burrow on the 25th. Would that be alright?
From what Ron's told me, his parent's still haven't managed to secure a straight answer from Dumbledore about you going over to his house too. Don't worry; I'm sure he would never leave you with your Aunt all summer so I expect I'll see you soon.
Love, Hermione
July 17, 1996
Hey mate, what's up? I sent you a letter two weeks ago and have not heard from you yet. Is everything all right? It's not the muggles, I don't think, because I know you've been sending off regular notes to the Order.
Hermione will arrive here soon. Dumbledore is being a right stick in the mud and isn't convinced you should be here too. No worries though. Mum's going to "see" him about it tomorrow.
Ron
July 24, 1996
Harry,
I won't bother ask you how you're doing. The most important thing is to believe that although things aren't so good now, they will be eventually.
As for me, I'm fine. So is Ron, and Luna, and Neville. I've gotten letters from them asking me to pass on their greetings to you (except from Ron, who I know has sent you a few letters already).
Ron's been jumpy all week. I think he misses you and Hermione more than he lets on. I actually caught him cleaning the other night, although I'm not sure if I believe it. He's taken to teasing me about Dean (who sends his greetings too, by the way), but I for one do not think he has any room to talk. His last girlfriend broke up with him when he was 8.
The twins haven't been as bad. Having already faced the wrath of Mum, they are tip-toeing about until they finish fixing up the loft above their store. As of present, it remains rather uninhabitable and mum's behavior has put their possible departure in sharp relief.
To be honest she's been a bit of a hurricane lately. I think she's killing herself with worry. You really ought to send her something, if no one else.
I can't wait until you and Hermione arrive to break-up the monotony, but I suppose it will be short lived, I'm going to the Lovegoods' to stay August with Luna. Neville is going too. It's not too far from here. Perhaps we could play quidditch sometime?
See you soon,
Ginny
July 25, 1996
Dear Mrs. Weasley,
The muggles are fine. Don't worry about me. I'm fine too. Honest.
Harry
The clank of the chain of the screen sounded the entrance of three laughing teenagers. Ron Weasley snickered madly, unable to contain his enjoyment as his longtime friend, Hermione Granger, fought with her tangled and mangy, wet hair.
"I do not look like Medusa," she grudgingly rejoined, although the corners of her mouth were curved in a smile.
Ron's sister Ginny laughed in disagreement with Hermione and offered to retrieve towels for all from the closet upstairs. Hermione nodded and the girl skipped off.
"It won't do to catch cold in summer," Hermione added.
"Catch cold? It's so hot you could cook a hippogriff out there and you worry about catching cold!"
"Ron, a cold is a virus. It doesn't matter, the temperature outside."
Ron, however, was not given the time to retort as his mother promptly bustled into the living room with a worried look. "You haven't happened to see your father, have you Ron?" she asked.
Ron shrugged looking at his mother intently. "No. Why? Shouldn't he be home from work by now?"
"That's fine. Have you cleaned up outside? You should put away the splinker now and get washed up." Mrs. Weasley collected herself and retreated into the kitchen.
Hermione raised an eyebrow. "I wonder what that was about. I hope Mr. Weasley is alright."
"I'm absolutely fine," said the familiar voice of Arthur Weasley from the doorway. "Thank you for the concern though."
Immediately Mrs. Weasley burst into the room her face flushed with relief. "Oh thank goodness you're alright, Arthur," she gushed, wrapping him in a desperate hug. "I was so worried. Don't you ever do that again! You didn't floo or owl or anything."
He smiled weakly. "Why wouldn't I be okay?"
Everybody knew but nobody was willing to answer.
"I think I'm better than normal actually. I won't have to deal with your sulking," he teased, dispelling the painfully pregnant atmosphere. "What's taking so long, Harry? Come along."
His wife's eyes widened as the Boy-Who-Lived entered the Burrow timidly, his school trunk banging to the floor beside him. For a moment the room was awkwardly silent.
"Harry, mate," Ron croaked in surprise, summoning a smile. "Great to see you."
"Arthur, can I talk with you for a moment… in the kitchen?" The two adults fled the room.
"So…" Hermione started but couldn't finish. She looked to Ron, but he looked more helpless than she.
"I hope you don't mind a pink one, Hermione but — Harry!" Ginny gasped as she bounded down the stairs in her green bathing suit clutching an armload of linens. She threw a towel each at Ron and Hermione – grey and pink respectively – and grinned with abandon at Harry. Her cheer was impervious to the awkwardness the others shared. "You've grown quite a bit for only a month. I'd greet you with a hug but I'm afraid I'm still damp."
Hermione seemed to remember she was only wearing a blue two piece swim costume and desperately wound her bit of terry cloth around her bare middle. This went over Ron's head, who was nonchalantly standing in his foyer in nothing but his brown trunks. Harry noticed and averted his eyes from the whole lot.
"Mr. Weasley installed a muggle garden hose yesterday. We attached a sprinkler to it to cool off. We just came inside," Hermione told him. "We've not cleaned up yet if you'd like to have a go later." Ron nodded, as if to confirm Hermione's explanation. Harry shrugged indifferently.
Ginny lowered her brow and moved a little closer, imposing. "It's really lots of fun, Harry. You should definitely have a go. It's," she searched for the right word, "refreshing."
"Uh, Ginny, aren't you a bit underdressed?" said Ron trying to cover his sister. She glowered at him, to disguise her embarrassment with anger, and pointedly wrapped herself in a towel. She too had just realized her costume was a little too worn and showed a little too much when wet.
Harry did his best to ignore this and changed the subject by moving to get out of the entrance way. Jumping to his aid, Ron helped move everything to the base of the stairs in no time. There they were left because no one was keen on carrying them several flights to the attic when a spell could more easily do the same. Three fourths of the group were not yet dry enough to sit on the furniture so when the group moved to the living room everyone plopped onto the floor. Hermione 'borrowed' Ron's towel to dry her hair after a few distasteful jokes from Ron about parsletongue and snake charming.
"So Harry," Ginny spoke up." I didn't know you'd be arriving today. I suppose nobody thought to tell me." This comment was followed by a pointed glare at her brother.
"Neither did I," Ron added defensively.
"Well neither did I," said Harry sharply. "Your dad just swung by out of the blue and got me out."
"I hope you made sure it was really Mr. Weasley first, Harry. It would be so dangerous if —"
"Hermione, I know, alright?"
"I know you know," Hermione said carefully, "but you sometimes… forget. I mean this time it was Mr. Weasley, but just going off with anyone claiming to be ––"
"Look, I don't need you telling me about defense! I'm the bloody Boy-Who-Lived, remember?"
"Don't talk to Hermione like that!" Ginny said with horror. "She's only trying to help you, and you know it. It doesn't matter how you're feeling right now; it doesn't give you any right to be a miserable prat."
Harry stood up. "I have every right to be sad." His voice started strongly but waned as he continued. "I – I was so stupid, I…." He looked at Hermione. "I'm sorry."
"No need to apologize," she said strongly. As soon as Harry sat down again and averted his gaze, she turned and gave Ginny an incredulous glare that clearly told the redhead she had been out of line. Ginny would have liked to roll her eyes but chose instead to look at the floor. She really didn't belong to this group and never knew how to behave.
A moment later Mrs. Weasley exited the kitchen looking red and slightly out of breath. She glanced almost unnoticeably at the fireplace before ushering the children outside to dry before dinner in a tone that was slightly clipped. "I'll bring you something to drink," she promised. "Harry, dear? How do you take your pumpkin juice?"
He looked at her, slightly confused, and shrugged. "Sweetened not stirred."
Hermione snapped her head around to look at him and broke into a wide grin. She caught his eye and was soon laughing out loud. Harry smiled too, meekly. Mrs. Weasley shook her head and went back into the kitchen. Ginny looked helplessly at Ron who was looking helplessly at Hermione. They unilaterally decided knowing wasn't worth ruining the moment.
They all got up and relocated outdoors. The evidence of the activities previous to Harry's arrival sat in plain view of the homely hewn wood table. Even though it was past three, the sun still bore strongly down upon the yard and the heat was sticky.
"It's so nice to hear you joke, Harry," Hermione said as the group settled at the picnic table. They all nodded their agreement, but no one spoke. For a while they were pleasantly warm and enjoying the rays. The pumpkin juice arrived one the table in moments and Ron eagerly snatched his. He downed half of the glass in a single go.
"Ah, relief from the heat."
"What heat? Ron we've only been out here for five minutes. How can you be hot already?" said Hermione.
"Remember when I told you it was hot enough to cook a hippogriff? It still is."
"Oh, honestly Ron. It's only twenty eight degrees."
"What about the humidity? What about that, Ms. Smarty-pants?"
"What about it?" she shot back. "You don't cook a hippogriff with humidity."
"I'm a lot smaller than a hippogriff."
Ginny turned to Harry to take the opportunity to apologize while her brother and Hermione were having at it ("Oh sure, Ron. Let's just grab Buckbeak, stick him in an oven and test out your theory"). Ginny tapped him on the arm drawing his attention from his squabbling friends and smiled hesitantly at him.
"Er, Harry? I just wanted to say sorry for what I said back in the house." She paused so he could respond, but he didn't. Fidgeting with her fingers on the table, she kept going. "And I know it wasn't my place and I should have just kept my mouth shut, but I don't want any hard feelings over it, okay?"
He narrowed his eyes in confusion. "What do you mean 'not your place'?"
She was thoroughly embarrassed now. He was going to make her spell it out. "I don't know you that well I suppose is what I meant. I was probably all wrong anyhow."
"You weren't wrong – about me. I've no right to be miserable."
Ginny was absolutely taken aback. No wonder Hermione had been mad with her. She should have known not to speak to Harry like that. Stupid Ginny, very stupid. "No. No, I was wrong. You've just lost someone very important to you. You've got every right to be sad."
"But I shouldn't be taking it out on my friends," he croaked, causing Ginny's heart to lurch. His eyes dropped into his lap.
"No," she admitted, "but as your friends we've got to support you and help you grieve. Grieving's normal Harry, you're allowed to – no, you're supposed to grieve."
He looked up at her like he was carefully considering what she was saying. "I'm… supposed to grieve. It's normal," he repeated. The look on his face told Ginny that she had said something right. He wanted to be normal… just Harry.
Of course he just wanted to be Harry. He needed a break from being the Boy-Who-Lived, the great and famous Harry Potter.
"And you know what else is normal? Being a moody teenage prat. I mean look at Ron! I suppose his hormones are running wild. One moment he's placid and the next you'd wonder if he were human at all."
Harry snorted, but Ginny took that as encouragement. Ron broke off his argument with Hermione and turned to them, having heard his name.
"What about me now? I won't have you spreading vicious lies about me to my friends, little sister."
A look of pure innocence blossomed across Ginny's face. "What lies, dear brother? Only truths, I assure you."
"I don't think I like the sound of that either."
After childishly sticking her tongue out at him, Ron's sister turned back to Harry Potter. Okay, so he wanted to be normal. She could do normal. Now, what was the most normal thing she could think of? "So Harry, what would you like to do for your birthday?"
"I… er," he stuttered. His face had suddenly fallen. "I hadn't really thought about it. I'm not sure if I want to do anything."
Ginny nearly slapped herself. Absolutely wonderful; she'd done it again. She ought to just shut up before she drove him away completely. That or write a manual about how to stick your foot in your mouth, sell it to Flourish and Blots and make millions. Ron, however, was too outraged by Harry's answer to realize it was a subject he perhaps should not pursue.
"Do nothing? It's your birthday, Harry!"
Harry glowered. "Your point? I've never done anything before. Maybe birthdays are something special to you but why would I want to celebrate the worst day of my life?"
All there of them were horrified by this admission. How could a person think their birthday was the worst day of their life? Had Harry looked at them he would have seen three identical frowns. Instead he preoccupied himself by studying the grain of the picnic table as though he would have an exam on it later.
Hermione had expected some resistance when one of the Weasleys suggested Harry have a birthday party (as she knew they inevitably would), but his words astounded her. For a few moments she thought she should change the subject. Yet she dismissed that notion when she realized that she really wanted and needed to find out why he felt that way. He was talking and she wanted to encourage that.
"The worst day… oh, Harry. How is the holiday to celebrate your birth the worst day?"
Harry spoke before he could stop himself. "It was the day Hagrid told me I was a wizard," he said candidly. His facial expression told them he would like nothing more than never to speak of this again but the words continued pouring out of his mouth. "Maybe if I was just Harry, no one – not Cedric, not Sirius – no one would have died. Maybe if I hadn't even been born my parents would still be here."
"Yeah and so would Riddle," said Ginny.
Ron nodded very solemnly, continuing for his sister. "And that would mean a great many other people would not."
The wind blew, rustling in the bows of a nearby willow tree. Harry wasn't entirely sure what to say to Ron's comment. Most of him wanted to scream that at least those deaths wouldn't be his fault, but a more (or less) rational part of his brain reminded him that, yes, they would. No matter what blood Voldemort split, it would somehow stain his hands. After all, he was the only one who could prevent those killings; he was the only one who could beat Voldemort. He felt hot tears of frustration rise again as he wondered how exactly he could possibly defeat such a powerful wizard. How many more people would die before this not quite16-year-old kid killed the monster? He almost felt he deserved it if those near to him died too. He should suffer the same as everyone else he was supposed to be saving.
"Harry, your birth means a lot to a lot of people. Don't you think that it's important to appreciate that and celebrate it… for them? For Sirius?" Ginny ventured with an undertone of passion in her voice. Her life had been one of the many Harry's actions had directly or indirectly saved.
"I – I… No," he affirmed quietly and then hastily excused himself from the table and fled indoors with as much grace as he could muster.
Hermione could almost hear the slam of the bathroom door and the onset of his sobs in her mind's ear. She had no clue what it was specifically she, Ginny or Ron has said to make him run like that but she felt guilty nonetheless. She wanted to kick herself. How could she have done that? Especially after how she'd warned Ginny off.
Ron was just as shocked. He moved to go after Harry, but the firm grip Hermione placed on his arm held him fast. He settled back onto the bench and slipped his hand into hers to give a reassuring squeeze. Poor Harry.
Ginny's mind was on a different train of thought entirely. She wasn't moved to feel particularly sorry for Harry. She just knew she wanted him to be happy again, if only for a little while. She wanted to see his goofy smile – his real smile not this cruddy imitation pseudo-nonsense he'd been sending out since he'd arrived.
"I think he'll be fine with a little time. Actually I was thinking we should throw him a birthday festival this year," she declared.
"No," said Ron, "he just as good as finished saying that he didn't want one."
Ginny looked to Hermione to back her up and the older girl came through.
"Yes, but did you hear why? We can't possibly allow him to go on thinking like that. We have to do something, Ron. What kind of friends would we be if we didn't?"
"He's in such a funk," Ginny piped in, "that he could use some fun now more than ever. He seemed keen on the idea of normalcy earlier and what's more normal than a little surprise party?"
Ron could think of many things and was hesitant to agree, but a few more minutes of persuasion from the girls was all that was needed to bring him around.
"So," he asked tentatively, "what exactly are we going to do?"
Hermione grinned one of her famous 'we-can-do-it' grins, consulted her watch and replied "Well, we've got two days, nine hours and 27 minutes to come up with something."
The turnout was much higher than Ron, Hermione and Ginny had anticipated. With only a couple of days to organize it they hadn't been able to accomplish all of what Hermione had outlined that first day while Harry was locked away with his demons. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were more than willing to host and even suggested that they hold it in the garden. Next, they had contacted the twins who promised to take care of the entertainment – fireworks and the like, even wrangle a live band if they could swing it. Pig was utterly exhausted after delivering invitations to the entire Order, all of the Gryffindor seventh years and each and every member of the DA. Ron was going to take Harry into the village (under heavy supervision) for a few hours so that the girls could set up.
However, even the best plans meet with adversity. All day on the 31st the sun had shone and the weather had been beautiful and then, from out of the blue, like most summer thunderstorms, lightning crashed down and the floating lake in the sky emptied onto Ottery St. Catchpole. Every table, chair, plate, and napkin – everything Hermione and Ginny had set up in the backyard of the Burrow was soaked.
With less that an hour until Harry was to return and minutes until the guests were scheduled to show up, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley began a frantic attempt to dry everything while the girls moved it all inside. The guests arrived into this chaos and more than a few had the misfortune of being recruited.
At five minutes to six o'clock, the appointed time of return, the already small kitchen and living room of the Burrow were cramped with furniture, food and people.
At quarter past six the people began growing restless as crowds typically do. It was then that Fred and George flooed in with armfuls of goodies. The guests, caught unawares, thought there'd been a change of plans and screamed "surprise" causing George to drop one of the bags he was carrying and blow up a sparkler bomb right in Fleur Delacour's pretty face.
In addition to this terrible mishap, the twins came bearing bad news. Apparently the fact that George was currently dating the sister of a backup singer for the Weird Sisters did not mean he could convince them to play at a birthday party.
Twenty-five minutes late Ron and Harry trudged through the front door, soaked to the bone and looking decidedly grumpy. Harry was obviously not amused when some thirty plus people jumped out at him and he nearly stunned Dedalus Diggle. Even though Mr. Weasley had performed a drying charm (at which he was now especially proficient) Harry insisted on getting changed. He had not been seen since.
Despite all of this, most everyone seemed to be enjoying the festivities. Ginny had saved the day by digging up her old WWN receiver and the twins had shrunken every piece of furniture in the living room to clear way for a dance floor. Ron had been ambushed by Hermione who refused to be a wallflower while the twins impressed those near them with their… unique dance style.
The adults who would not dance were in the kitchen, crammed onto the remaining furniture, eating from the table of goodies Mrs. Weasley had prepared, and discussing Merlin only knew what.
Ginny stood with her back against the wall in the living room watching her brother and Hermione, Neville and Luna, and even Professor Lupin who was doing some sort of twist with Tonks, Bill and Mundungus. Everyone seemed to loosen up and take a much needed reprieve from their stressful lives – everyone except Harry, who was noticeably missing from his own birthday party.
Declining Fred's request to try the "time warp" with him, Ginny made her way over to Ron and Hermione.
"Have you guys seen Harry?" she asked, doing her best to sound as casual as possible over the blaring music. After what had happed a few days prior she felt very out of her depth around Harry. It was probably better if one of his friends got him anyways.
They both took a look around and realized the absence of the guest of honour.
"No one else has seen him since he went upstairs," Ginny offered.
Hermione frowned and looked at Ron, who took the cue. "I think I'll go see if he'd like to come down," he excused himself.
Hermione led Ginny off of the dance floor and into the corridor where the music was fractionally less loud. Suddenly her eyes looked very weary.
"He's not said anything to you, has he?" she asked rather unexpectedly.
"Has who?"
"I…Harry."
Ginny repressed the urge to laugh. Harry hadn't said more than a few words to her lately. "Not at all. I mean, why would he?" He probably felt just as uncomfortable with her as she did with him.
"Oh, no reason really," she answered Ginny's rhetorical question ambiguously leaving Ginny to wonder whether there perhaps was a reason.
"You mean beyond the obvious?" Ginny asked.
"Yes, precisely. No reason beyond the obvious."
"Which is?"
Hermione gave her an exasperated look. "You right well know."
"I don't pretend to know anything, Hermione. No one ever tells me, especially not Harry," Ginny admitted quietly. They stood for a moment there, not speaking, not listening to the music that pounded on the walls.
Hermione bit her lip in an annoying manner, contemplating what she should say. "If it means anything to you," she eventually volunteered, "I don't really agree with everyone censoring themselves around you. I know you're capable."
Ginny rolled her eyes. "I appreciate that Hermione, but…" she cut off abruptly choosing not to say whatever snide remark she had planned. "Thank you" she said instead although it lacked sincerity. After a moment's hesitation she continued "And for what it's worth, I think Harry will be fine. I think he's just scared. I mean, yes, he's still grieving over Sirius but I think he's also facing the same realization as the rest of us: this war is not, by any stretch of the imagination, for shits and giggles. More people are going to die, Hermione, and don't give me that look because you know it's the truth. Sirius was only the first."
"He was the second," Harry corrected. He was standing, Ron behind him, on the last step of the stairs with a pale face and odd expression. His eyes were less vacant than they'd been in the last few days and his jaw was set firmly. "And there will be at least one more."
And in that cramped hallway, to the beat of The Bludgers' new song, Harry explained the prophecy to his two best friends and Ginny, his best friend's little sister. And things began to make sense for the others. His hatred of his birthday was vindicated. His pensiveness was understandable.
Neither Ron nor Hermione reacted in a manner unexpected to Harry, who had played out this scene a thousand times in his head. Ron was suitably outraged and enraged by terms of the prophecy and Dumbledore's behavior. Hermione took a more objective and levelheaded view of the situation; she argued with Ron about Dumbledore and quietly abstained from voicing her pity for Harry.
Ginny was the anomaly. He had not imagined her presence and therefore had not predicted her response – which was not to say that he could have done so otherwise. He didn't know what possessed him to confess so randomly in a hallway behind a roaring party, let alone why he allowed her to hear it. At first she was quiet, allowing the other two to express their own anger and concern. She stared at him intently with both pity and fury absent from her gaze. Later she was very vocal and embittered. Whereas Hermione had hugged him fiercely and nearly cried, Ginny swore with as much passion and told him that she envied his good luck. She told him how he was blessed to have the fortune of killing Voldemort. She refused to consider the possibility of his death by Voldemort's hand. After what she had been subjected to, Harry supposed he might be so ardent as well.
When no one had anything left to say or even felt much like talking any longer they disbanded and trickled back into the living room. Ron, Hermione and Harry stuck closely together, but it was obvious that they were trying to think about more light-hearted things. Ginny smiled as she carefully added a few vodka ice cubes to her punch. She needed something a little stronger after that set of epiphanies, she had decided, and she had found the refreshment table unmanned. It may have been wrong, but she was feeling rather lousy and figured a cube or two couldn't hurt much. She had always figured that Harry would be the one to end up defeating Voldemort, but Ginny had secretly fancied giving him the old heave-ho herself.
Around midnight the party began to wind down. Harry had started to perk up after his admission and even danced a few times. He looked as if there was a great weight lifted from his shoulders. Remus was the first to leave and after him most of the guests began reaching for their cloaks.
When nearly everyone had gone, Harry bid the one or two remaining guests farewell and headed for his bed. The party had turned out to be great, but it didn't make him any less tired. Ron was off somewhere, probably with Hermione because she was missing too, but Harry wasn't worried. He had decided when he came downstairs with Ron earlier that evening that he would put off any worrying for the night. He was unhurriedly climbing the stairs when he heard a clatter on the landing above. He couldn't see what had caused the noise and rushed up the rest of the way until he came upon Ginny who was trying to haul a large trunk down the staircase by herself. He grabbed onto an end and helped her bring the trunk to the head of the next stair.
"Thanks," she said, putting a hand on her back and stretching out her shoulders. "Those things are so darn heavy."
He smiled sympathetically. "Where are you taking it?"
"I'm going to spend the rest of the summer at Luna's, remember? I told you in that letter I sent, I think. Anyhow, Mr. Lovegood talked with mum and they agreed that it would be easier if I just left with them tonight. I have to take everything I own too. They're going to take me to King's Cross on the first," Ginny explained. Harry did vaguely remember her mentioning something, but he hadn't really read any of the letters he'd gotten while at the Dursleys' very carefully.
She gestured from her trunk to the next set of stairs. "Would you mind…."
"Oh! No problem." Harry latched onto the handle and carefully backed down the stairs. "This would be a heck of a lot easier if we could use magic, eh?"
She nodded. "Stupid age restrictions," she muttered with a voice strained from the weight she was toting. Harry laughed. They had to stop for a moment because the trunk was slipping in Ginny hands. They readjusted and started down again.
Harry grunted. More of the weight had been shifted onto him. "What on earth did you put it this thing? Rocks!" he exclaimed. "How on earth did you manage before me?"
She giggled. "My whole life is in this trunk, Harry Potter, and if that includes some rocks then so be it." He cocked an eyebrow but said nothing. "You're not so great anyhow. I did alright-ish by myself. I'm an independent woman, Mr. Potter."
"Would you like me to leave you to it?"
"No!"
They both laughed and finally made it to the ground floor. The trunk was unceremoniously plunked down onto the well worn red hall runner to great relief for both carriers. Mr. Lovegood and his daughter were in the kitchen speaking with her parents, Ginny could tell from the voices she heard. She fidgeted a little with the waistband of her trousers.
She was nervous about spending an entire month with Luna. Just one year ago she had firmly thought the girl was barmy and had disliked in her in the same way most of their classmates still did. Somehow, however, over the past year at Hogwarts, probably through the DA, they had formed something of a friendship. It wasn't the standardized 'I could tell her all my secrets' type of friendship or the 'She just gets me' type of friendship, but it was pleasant. Ginny had friends in Gryffindor, but while she had been preoccupied in her first year, the others had been forming nearly impenetrable cliques. Even so, with all of her similarities to Luna, Ginny was keen to admit that they were very dissimilar and their camaraderie was disjointed. She was astounded when Luna asked her to visit for a whole month of the summer holidays and was floored when she also invited Neville (with whom Ginny had rarely seen Luna spending time). Being quite unsure of how well she liked either companion, Ginny had the feeling that she had set herself up to spend an interesting August.
"So then, I guess you're leaving now?" Harry asked tentatively.
Ginny looked to him and blinked. She hadn't realized how long she'd been silent. "Um, yeah. As soon as the Lovegoods are ready." He nodded. "Thanks again for helping me," Ginny continued, "with the trunk and all."
He shrugged. "I can be a proper gentleman instead of a moody twit sometimes."
"And it's a good thing too. Otherwise, how would we ever put up with you?"
He leaned into the conversation. "You'd manage," he said with a haughty grin. Ginny laughed, gave him a sideways look and pushed him away playfully, her palm on Harry's chest. It dawned on her quite suddenly that Harry might just be flirting with her as he stumbled backwards for a few steps before his foot caught the trunk and he nearly fell over it.
"Oh, gosh, Harry. I'm so sorry," she sputtered, laughing.
He sat on top of the chest and rolled down his sock to rub the back of his foot where he had smacked it. He was pouting a little. "You don't sound s—"
"Ginny?" Mrs. Weasley was standing in the doorway to the kitchen. "Ginny, the Lovegoods are just about ready. You should take those things," she motioned at the trunk, "to the hearth."
"Er, yes Mum."
Harry replaced the sock, got off the trunk and picked up one of the handles in preparation to move it again.
"Oh, Harry, don't be ridiculous," said Mrs. Weasley. "I'll get that. Mobiliriscus." With a flick of her wand she floated the heavy Hogwarts trunk over to the fireplace. "Get yourself ready, Ginny. Don't forget your outerwear, or underwear for that matter." Mrs. Weasley reentered the kitchen.
"I am ready," Ginny for some reason whispered.
Harry nodded and looked for an out. He was really tired. He turned to Ginny and tried to force his half-dead brain to think of a good way of excusing himself. By the look he was giving her she could tell that he wanted to leave and Ginny tried her darnedest not to be offended by it. Every time it seemed things might change….
"Bye, Harry," Ginny said, pulling him into the briefest of hugs.
"See you, then," he told her. Harry started back up the stairs. He heard footsteps and looked back for a moment just to see Mr. Weasley taking down the floo jar and everyone else congregating by the fire in the still stiflingly warm summer air. As Ginny took her pinch of the powder, Harry turned back around and left. He jaunted up to Ron's room.
A day that had begun quite miserably had ended rather nicely. Although he would never say as much to the likes of Hermione, Harry had very much enjoyed the surprise party. He also had to admit it was a relief to finally tell his friends about the prophecy. Since his breakdown on the first day at the Burrow, the guilt of concealment had been eating away at him. Hermione's voice asking him why he hated his birthday especially plagued him.
He reached the attic to find the door to Ron's room closed. Through the door he could hear snippets of muffled conversation.
"…dunno, I just never thought that… Krum!" exclaimed a voice that was surely Ron's. Parts of his speech were so low that all Harry could hear was murmuring. Ron sounded pretty adamant about that last part, though.
"Merlin, no," Hermione replied. "Oh, Ron. He wasn't anything… you. I thought I made it clear… as a last resort', I think were my exact words. You didn't do anything so… fancy me."
Whatever they were talking about, Harry had by then figured out that it was serious and private and that he should probably not intrude. It was already past two in the morning and from the sounds that followed Hermione's statement, Harry decided that he should probably just spend the night elsewhere. Fred and George were passed out in their room and Mundungus had gotten much too drunk to apparate and was therefore forced by Mrs. Weasley to stay in Percy's room for the night. Harry did know one room that would not be occupied.
He knew which door was hers, but he had never actually been inside this particular room before. It was exactly as he would have expected. It looked like it had once been very girly, with lavender walls and a middle wallpaper border of dancing ballerinas. Now over top of this border were several posters of both Pride of Portree and the Weird Sisters. A wonderful image of Catriona McCormack making an impossible goal seemed to be featured right next to one of her son, Kirley, singing to the crowd at a concert. Harry recognized him from the performance of the Weird Sisters at Hogwarts in his fourth year. Beside it were a few pictures of smiling people and the Daily Prophet clipping about the Yule Ball, all stuffed into the frame of a tarnished, silver mirror.
The bed was a four-poster and was blanketed in what looked like three 'Pride' capes sown together. The abundant handmade pillows, the worn finish of girly white washed furniture and the assortment of other purple accents meshed well to make the room feel homey. This was so unlike the plain room he had been awarded by the Dursleys or the communal Gryffindor dorms.
He shucked his trousers and shirt and crawled in the bed. It was as comfortable as it looked. Even the sown together capes were warm and soft. Ginny was obviously inventive. Harry stopped himself. Thinking of her while in her bed made him uneasy.
"Oy! You! Waiting for a steamy rendezvous?"
Harry sat up bolt straight. "Whose's there?" he asked tensely.
The cockney female voice, he recognized, was coming from the mirror. "You won't get one, ya know. My Ginny's a good girl, she is."
Harry groaned diving under the covers again. It had been a long day. He didn't need a lecture from a mirror about Ginevra Weasley's virtue. "I just want some shut-eye."
"Is that what they're calling it these days?"
"No." His voice was whiny and muffled by the pillow he had pulled overtop of his head. The mirror guffawed, but Harry ignored it. He snuggled into the well worn mattress and allowed himself finally to put the day to rest.
Half an hour later a disheveled Hermione entered the room and nearly tripped over Harry's discarded pair of trousers. Being a smart girl, Hermione quickly deduced who was in Ginny's bed and what he was wearing (or not wearing) underneath the bedclothes. She tiptoed over to her trunk and grabbed her night clothes.
A few minutes later, Ron answered a knock on his bedroom door. He opened it to find Hermione, clad in an adorable pair of teddy bear pajamas.
"Harry's sleeping in your sister's bed," she explained. A look of panic graced Ron's face. "Not with her. At least I hope not. I think she might have left for the Lovegoods' already. Anyhow, I don't want to spend the night in the same room as a nearly nude Harry, so… I was wondering if I could come in."
Whatever Ron's thoughts had been before, they quickly faded and he could not help smiling at the ferocity of Hermione's blush when he pushed open the door further to let her in and gingerly closed it behind her.
Fin
Authors Notes:
This story is a completed one-shot. While no sequel is yet written, I do have a multitude of ideas that may well manifest themselves if I receive enough feedback. Criticism is not only welcome, but both negative and positive comments are encouraged. What exactly did you like? What did you hate? Did you think the beginning was too slow? The title too random? The mirror especially funny?
Let me know!