'So anyway, Justin here turned to me and said, "Okay Lavender if you're such a brilliant chaser, how about a game of strip shootout in the field" — expecting me to faint or reach for the vapours or something. So I said, "All right you bastard, you're on!"
I took a sip of wine to steady my nerves and gazed at my possibly insane hostess over the enormous hunk of polished mahogany that passed as a dining table. I couldn't bring myself to look over at Seamus's wife, Padma, down the other end.
'So out we all went with our brooms,' Lavender went on, 'drunk as skunks — well Justin and I certainly were — into the meadow and someone managed to focus long enough to send up the quaffles and I jumped on Daddy's Fire bolt and somehow got up in the air and — well!' She paused, suspending her tale just long enough to draw a few dutiful gasps of admiration from her guests. 'Blow me if I caught every one of those quaffles and these bastards didn't get a dicky bird!'
Raucous laughter and much table thumping greeted this, particularly from my husband who was going to put his fist through his side plate in a minute. I watched as he roared away his long, dull face gleaming as red as handkerchief sticking out of his breast pocket, upper lip perspiring freely, eyes gleaming lasciviously behind their small rounded lenses.
"And did they?' he gasped between snorts of mirth. 'Strip?'
'You bet they did!' came back the guffawing Lavender. 'Right out of their dress robes, every one of them! I had them standing to attention presenting arms — amongst other things — Ha ha!'
'Oh Lavender, you ididn't/i!' shrieked a horsey looking girl to my left. 'You are a iscream/i!'
Yes, wasn't she just? I didn't notice Padma, Justin's wife, screaming too much though. I glanced at her flushed face. She'd just about managed to bare her teeth in a brave attempt at a smile as she pushed a piece of Brie around her plate. I sipped at my goblet again and flashed a look at Lavenders husband, Seamus, wondering how he was taking all this. Apparently, judging by the way he was doubled up in mirth, spluttering mead down his maroon dress robes, he couldn't have been more pleased that his wife took such a keen interest in other men's anatomy.
As I gazed around at the rest of the assembled port-swilling, braying throng, it did occur to me to wonder, though, whether I was being entirely fair here. Wasn't I a little bit prejudiced on account of the company? A little bit prejudiced? If this had been a dinner party at one of my friends houses for instance, and it had been Luna, or Hermione doing the story telling, would I have found it amusing? Wasn't it just the fact that it was one of Harry's friends that made it so silly and childish?
'Ginny, get that Mead moving,' bellowed my shy hostess. 'I've got one hell of a thirst on over here!'
'Oh, sorry.' I dutifully shoved along the oversized crystal jug, only just holding in the urge to throw it over her smarmy blonde curls and run. However I held myself back, it wouldn't do to be unlady-like. I cleared my throat which was dry from lack of use.
'Actually, I said bravely, trying to catch Harry's bloodshot eye, 'I think we better make a move soon, I told the baby-sitter midnight and its half past already...'
'Is it?' Lavender flashed her goblin made watch at the assembled crowd. 'Christ! I've got a bridge lesson first thing in the morning, Come on, you lot, get out of here. I'll get the house elves out in a minute.'
There was alot of laughing and scraping back of chairs but not many bottoms were off the tapestry seat covers as quickly as mine. Two seconds later I had my coat on and my bag from the waiting house elf at the door and hung them firmly over my shoulder. Ten minutes later I was still standing by the door smiling fixedly while Harry circled the group basking in congratulations. He always did the same elongated round of leave-taking, slapping backs heartily and accepting praise whenever he could.
'Seamus! Good to see you again, how long has it been? Really! That long, well I was very busy after the battle rebuilding the ministry - Oh you embarrass me, but yes I was considering running for minister.'
His demeanour in the last five years had veered violently from humble modesty to outright arrogance and a huge and irritatingly soppy smirk that seemed constantly pasted on his long thin face.
'Gin? Ginevra!' Harry's voice broke through my musings.
'Wake up Gin! Really, do try and pay more attention to things darling. Always off in a world of her own that one.' He turned to the small admiring crowd assembled around him rolling his eyes.
'Violence is not the answer. Violence is not the answer. Violence is inot/i the answer!' I chanted in my head. My patience always started to slip when Harry made me look like a fool in front of his friends.
'Seamus and Padma have invited us to stay in Yorkshire with them next weekend, isn't that fantastic?'
Oh yes fabulous. I can't wait to spend yet another weekend with your rich and self important friends. Hooray.
That didn't seem the correct response, however. So I gritted my teeth and barely managed to pull my face into a ridiculously false smile as I nodded politely at Seamus.
Finally we were nearly at the door but Lavender waylaid us, her ridiculously big hair bouncing all over the place and her voluptuous body squeezed into a ridiculously tight and revealing set of silk dress robes.
'Ginny, dear, you simply imust/i bring Harry to the next Ministry ball.' She brayed haughtily. 'Daphne and I organised it, Daphne Greengrass you know, her father owns the Wingbourn Wasps, very well connected, and it will be simply idivine/i. Oh do say you'll come!'
'Yes, that would be lovely wouldn't it, old thing? Said Harry in his usual, self satisfied tones.
'Oh!' She squealed. 'Ginny you can come with me and the girls to Ballroom dancing lessons. I know your crap, but no on minds really.'
I would sooner have performed an amputation curse on my legs. But manners restrained me to shooting Harry a pained look and grudgingly turning to Lavender with a fake smile plastered on my face.
'Yes, that sounds— wonderful.' I said stiffly.
But Lavender had already turned away and stalked off to bray loudly at someone else.
I tried to ignore the Hallelujah chorus in my head as at that very moment Harry caused a slight diversion by stumbling drunkenly sideways and knocking over a priceless looking vase that promptly smashed into a million fragments on the marble floors. It was a testament to just how loud the snorting and braying of the crowd was that they didn't hear the resounding crash.
'iRepairo/i!' I muttered franticly.
The pieces of vase dragged themselves together and then settled back down with a little clunk by the door. I pulled Harry out before he could cause anymore damage.
The icy winter air hit me in the face as we wobbled down the drive. It was refreshing after the thick, stale smell of the oversized country manor behind us. I gave a sigh of relief as it enveloped us and walked quickly over the slippery path to the apparation point. I stood poised with my wand drawn and waited for Harry made his slow, stumbling progress over the ground. He reached me and started fumbling in his pockets for his wand, after about two minutes I had to pull it out of the holster on his hip for him.
'Ah well done, old thing,' he patted my hand. 'Very well done indeed. I think that went extremely smoothly. Nine and a half, I'd say.'
I ground my teeth and steadied his leaning body. 'Good.' I murmured, wisely keeping my counsel. I had given up on fighting Harry over his nail-bitingly frustrating habit of giving an evening marks out of ten when we'd just been to dinner at the home of someone who owned a large share of Gringotts or had a huge post war settlement or any other sort of approved wealth that he might sponge of off. No, the last thing I wanted to do was a heated argument on the way home, only to crawl into bed with a raging headache, tossing and turning all night as Harry snored for England beside me.
I tried to lead him into the apparation booth but he hadn't quite finished.
'Just one little point, darling,' He murmured. 'You were a bit quiet tonight, a bit mousy. You must try to loosen up with my friends, they won't bite. You just need a bit of confidence.' There was a pause. 'Oh, and one other thing. I overheard you talking to Justin about Dragon Breeding act, it's always referred to as the DBA. A little point but something to remember, eh?'
I didn't answer but I ground my teeth some more. Dont rise Ginny, dont rise.
'Alright to side-along tonight, old thing? I've had a tad too much to drink.' He went on sleepily.
'Of course it's alright Harry.' I hissed. I dont even know why he bothered asking anymore, he is always too drunk to apparate without ending up in a field somewhere with one of his arms missing.
I sighed and half carried, half dragged him through the sliding door. We almost got stuck; Harry's drunken state made him extremely difficult to manoeuvre through any small spaces.
'What sort of doors are they putting on these bloody things nowadays? A man can't be broad shouldered in a society like this!' He roared indignantly at no one in particular.
We ended up in the small booth with him leaning against the panel with a thoroughly pissed look on his face. Eventually I managed to twist myself into a pocket of open space that was only just big enough for me to stand.
Grasping Harry's arm hard, I span on the spot, nearly suffocating myself in the process, and thought of our house as hard as I could. We fell through the darkness for a moment before landing hard on the cold pavement outside our Georgian townhouse. Harry staggered to his feet and stood looking a little deranged.
iOh god,/i I suddenly thought, iwhat if he tries to break in through the windows again?/i To pre-empt this little bout of acrobatics I grabbed a hold of his bony arm again and, gritting my teeth tried to push him through the gate.
Harry however, had other plans. He sauntered, swaying dangerously, down the lamp lit street, dragging me along with him. A street bench loomed out from under an old ash tree. Apparently finding what he was looking for, he stumbled a little closer and dropped himself ungracefully into a sitting position, smacking his lips together and letting his eyelids droop onto his cheeks, he prepared himself for a good kip. Completely oblivious to the fact that I was standing shivering next to him.
'Harry! What if someone sees you?' I hissed franticly.
He just snored on quite happily.
My fruitless attempts to rouse him only made me more frustrated so I collapsed on the wooden shafts next to him, holding my head in my hands.
What happened to us. I wondered looking at his elongated, sallow face. How can something that seemed so perfect and right turn into, well, this? What would I have though five years ago sailing down the aisle in ivory silk that Harry James Potter, hero of the Wizarding world, the man I owed the lives of my whole family, that someday I would only be able to look at him and feel only disgust. Of course I would have laughed it off, my Harry? Never.
I always used to fantasize about us having some sort of incredible bond; that nothing could ever have come between the famous Harry Potter and his Ginny Weasley. I actually willed myself into believing that the hero always got the girl, Harry obviously being my hero, and that a mix of teenage infatuation and lust could form a functioning relationship. A belief that I'm sure originated from the infinite amount of romance books and sappy idealistic poems that my mother had been throwing at me since I could read. Though at the same time I can't help feeling that it was also more than a little relief at finally having something solid after so much loss and confusion? A little bit of self importance at being the one who snagged 'the boy who lived'?
Oh, my mother had been ecstatic at the thought of me marrying the most famous, influential wizard of the age. Even better that he came from a pure blood line (his muggle-born mother seemingly being overlooked on account of his fame), and a sure job lined up at the ministry. Not that he needed it of course; he only had to walk into a shop to have half its contents bagged and gift wrapped and handed to him by a hoard of hangers on and admirers.
And there was me, a wide-eyed child that clung to his arm as he talked his way through press releases and consoled mourning families, kissed babies, signed autographs and all the other things that heroes usually do.
Unfortunately, as humble as he had been before, it was not long before the fame started to rush to his head and nowadays he had developed a god complex. Ron and Hermione could barely even stand his company anymore, in fact at little Hugo's christening Ron had actually punched Harry in the face for 'accidently' tipping the paparazzi that he would be coming and causing the little Oxfordshire church to be filled with flashing lights and screaming reporters. They hadn't spoken since.
But for me it was an impossible situation. Ron had been my main link with Harry, the one who had really been in control of our relationship. And now they wouldn't even acknowledge each other's presence. Still, it was almost as if ever since he had become friends with Ron that I was destined to be with him. I felt that I owed him love, almost as if it were my duty rather than my pleasure, that he deserved to be loved. Of course my family expected me to marry him, as did most of the Wizarding world, and I imagine Harry did to. I fit the bill I suppose; I was naive, innocent and came from a family of good breeders, the perfect mix to create lots of little heirs to the Potter name. I suppose the fiery streak that ran through the blood of all Weasleys was the only little snag, but over time Harry had managed to quash that part of me by treating me like an idiot and forcing his views into every little choice I could make. But hey, he was happy and that's all that really mattered, wasn't it?
When the proposal itself came, a very awkward affair that involved Harry sort of bobbing down on one knee and pulling out a ring that held a rock the size of a baby's head and giving me that sappy, ego fuelled hero smile that he used for the reporters, I didn't really feel that I had any choice in the matter.
Mummy, of course, had been delighted. She'd opened the door, taken a look at the whopping great sapphire on my hand and almost gone down on her knees and kissed the hem of his robes, she was so excited. Beaming widely, she'd taken a firmly by the arm and marched him straight into the sitting room to draw up the guest list. From then on it was a toboggan ride down to the altar. Mummy in the lead with her wand rarely out of her hand.
'Imagine, the life my little girl is going to get! Bagging the most famous wizard of the age,' I heard her squeak excitedly, to Hestia Jones, in the kitchen of the burrow about a week before the wedding. 'And all these connections he's got at the ministry, he was telling me only the other day that he had lunch with the minister himself last Tuesday! Our Ginny might end up being even better off than Ron and Hermione!'
This was almost too orgasmic for words and they bothsquealed with delight, because Ron's marriage, frankly, was hard to beat.
They had really done the Weasleys proud. Ron was not only a very handsome, muscular, well built man with a great deal of love for his children and wife, but he was one of the most well accomplished Aurors working for the ministry. Hermione, of course had passed her N.E. with flying colours and had landed a job as sectary to the minister himself — oh yes, extremely intelligent.
Yes, Ron had 'bagged' himself the perfect girl, the perfect job and now had a very comfortable life with three kids running around his beautiful old house and the whole place dripping with happiness. The whole situation was so frustratingly perfect that, if I didn't love him, I'd think him a terribly smug git. But good old Ronald, he remained perfectly modest and humble. Damn him.
Strangely enough, me marrying into such famous family awoke all the latent snobbery in my mother's heart that I never knew existed. Determined as ever, she had decided that this was going to be the wedding that a Hero and his fiancé should receive, no matter what affect it had on the Weasley bank account. She went into over-drive the moment the wedding was announced.
One day I was being whisked wide eyed up and down Diagon alley as if my life depended on it, the next she had me scrambling in and out of white dress robes at madam Malkins, bullying everyone so much that she reduced the assistants and even me to tears, dragging me into the travel agents to check the arrangements for our honeymoon, so that for one awful moment I was so confused I thought I was marrying my mother. All of this enthusiasm is usual for the mother of the bride was not unusual of course but Molly Weasley took it upon herself to blow up every aspect of the wedding to astounding proportions. I sometimes wondered if she was making up for her own marriage, which had been held in the cellar of the hogshead just after she and Dad had run away from home.
The more the wedding advanced, the more she and Harry got on famously, with mummy dribbling in her soup as snippets of his sob story and his new well-connected position fell from his lips. It didn't seem to matter that Harry didn't actually have a job, that he didn't have much money and that all he owned was a dusty old house in London that he refused to go to. The moment he lost his train of thought and pulled off one of his well rehearsed looks into the distance with those dull, empty eyes, my mother would literally writhe around on the floor, kick her heels and beg for more. She thought Harry was a right little tragic saviour and the sun shone from his every orifice.
I remember going upstairs with her one night, after tea Harry had enthralled us all with another rendition of his escape from the mer-people (which, incidentally seemed to get more violent and tragic each time it was told, it now included a terrible struggle with the giant squid and several casualties), she had actually squeezed my waist on the landing as she said goodnight.
'You've done it, Ginny,' she breathed, 'you've really done it!
I stared at her in amazement, and I remember thinking, how odd. After all those years of disapproval, all those years of scruffy clothes and unsuitable friends and no ambition, of giving her nothing but disapproval, in one stroke I'd pulled it off. I'd won her approval, maybe even her respect.
But five years on, I wasn't sure if any of that was worth it. Harry was not the man I had imagined at all: dull, unsophisticated and self-important, he was a very difficult husband to adapt to.
For example, I don't think he has ever lifted a finger at home. Every time I have asked him to wash the dishes or take the dog for a walk he suddenly has terrible flash backs from the war and can't stand to do anything other than collapse in bed and have a cup of tea brought to him. At first I was sympathetic to his constant complaining, after all he had just saved the entire Wizarding world from death and destruction. But after a little while I noticed that his memories never seemed to be bothering him when he had been invited to a 'high society' get-together with all his friends or yet another 'Praise potter' party.
I know it sounds bitter but I do honestly thank Harry for saving everyone from Voldemort and his death eaters, but honestly. How long can he bounce along on the pity and admiration of others before he actually does something with his life?
Harry had given me one thing though, the thing I prize most in the world. He had given me James, my beautiful boy. Born nine months after our wedding, he is the joy in my life. The main reason I hadn't thrown in the towel and left Harry after one of his drunken escapades or stupid money loss.
The thought of James made me smile, it felt good to smile. It was only really him that could make me smile for real nowadays, not the fake baring of teeth I plastered on my face at social occasions with Harry's friends.
I looked again at Harry's prone figure, his knobbly figures clasped over his rising and falling chest. Could I rekindle some of that feeling that we used to have? If not love, then at least tenderness. There must have been some magic at the beginning; I had to try, for James's sake.
I reached out and stroked his hand.
'Harry, love?' I murmured gently shaking his shoulder.
Not a flicker, on he snored.
'Harry, we're home.'
He smacked his lips and turned his face the other way.
'Harry.' I shook his shoulder a bit more vigorously. 'Come on, it's cold out here, wake up.' I shook him harder still. 'Come on, dear.'
'Bugger off!' He mumbled shifting to his side.
My hand froze on his.
'Well bugger you too, you stupid fat bastard!' I roared.
Yes, well, that had really brought back the magic hadn't it? Really summoned up some tenderness. I sighed. God If only I'd married a man with a bit of passion, I'd never have had this problem.
I can't honestly recall why I was so infatuated with him. It was probably greatly to do with the fact that I was physically and emotionally exhausted after the battle and, sitting there in the great hall surrounded by dead friends and family
I looked at Harry, anger still coursing strongly through my veins. I considered leaving him there until morning but the last time I had done that he had awoken at four in the morning and seen fit to bang the front door down and sing 'What shall we do with the drunken sailor' very loudly through the letter box, waking up the whole house and most of the neighbours.
I leaned over and found his ear.
'Harry!' I shouted, 'If you stay out here then you'll freeze to death.'
My eyes burned briefly in their tired old sockets at this rare moment of conviction but I bade them dim. Yet on he snored.
'Right!' I screeched importantly. 'That's it!'
It was time for a last resort; a method only used on a handful of occasion due to its inherent danger, but tonight was going to be one of them. Angrily I got onto all fours like a dog on the bench and started pushing him off the side. It was like moving a mountain, he barely shifted. I put my shoulder against his and shoved for all I was worth, swearing and cursing, puffing and panting, when into my line of vision came an tall and vaguely familiar blonde man walking his dog.
He stopped and watched with apparent interest.
'He's going to fall on the pavement and crack his head open.' He observed at length.
'That's the idea' I muttered, teeth gritted.
There was a pause.
'Ah.' He nodded. Reassured, he moved on up the street.
Interesting conversation that, I thought, panting heavily. Obviously it was all right for me to commit wilful grievous bodily harm on my husband, it was accidental that bothered him.
Eventually In a burst of superhuman strength, I managed to roll him far enough that he started to slide from the bench but at the last second he managed to pull a foot round and catch himself. Yes well he always did, didn't he?
I sat panting, incredibly Harry was now pulling himself to his feet. Extraordinary, I thought, I have never met a man with such an irritating habit of survival.
Unfortunately it seemed, Harry, like the poor, would always be with us.
Eventually, he decided the time was ripe to drag himself to bed. I ran ahead of him to catch him before he got to the door.
'Well done.' He muttered as I opened the door and hustled him through. 'Well done, old thing'
Oh yes, I forgot to mention that. Not only had I lost my surname when I married Harry, but my first name also. I was Ginny Weasley no longer, I was Old thing Potter now.
As I breathlessly steered him to the lounge, Victoire, our baby sitter and niece, was already getting up from her chair, folding up a roll of parchment and slipping it in her bag.
'Had a good evening?' She asked shyly, smiling her brilliant smile. Her mother's looks were not lost in her; however she did have Charlie's warm hazel eyes.
I beamed at her; she was a lovely thing really. Bill and Fleur had produced six children at this stage, with a seventh on the way, and at fourteen, she lacked funding for her expanding wardrobe.
'Lovely, thanks, Victoire '(she hated Vicky)'how about you? Has James been all right, everything ok?'
She beamed up at me shyly.
'He was an angel as always, but he came down at about ten asking for a drink so I gave him some Pumpkin juice and sent him back up to bed..' She trailed off in a slightly questioning tone.
I smiled encouragingly at her, 'Thank you, that's exactly what I would have done.'
At this point harry decided to make his presence known by belching loudly and trundling unstably down the hall to the bathroom. But instead of turning left he turned right to the walk-in closet under the stairs. Before I could stop him he had unzipped his trousers and the undeniable sound of liquid against fabric made me think of Victoires new velvet robes that I had hung there hours earlier.
Victoires horrified face looked up at me and I clenched my teeth to keep from screaming.
When Harry had finished he blinked blearily then turned towards us.
'Awfully sorry Vicky dear, 'he slurred, 'but I appear to have pissed all over your robes.'
That was it. At that moment I knew I could not live with this man for a moment longer, the story of Harry and Ginny had finally come to an end. The bastard.
5
