Chapter 1
After delivering her piece to the Daily Prophet, Ginny wandered around Diagon Alley for a bit before finally settling at her usual small cafe. The waitress, a tiny, petite girl, Ginny noted with some asperity, hurried up to take her order.
While she waited for her bagel and coffee to arrive, she pondered the people before her; wizards and witches bustling through the street, weaving between each other to get to their respective destinations. She tried to guess where a small, squat witch dragging along a boy and girl was going. It was not long before a voice calling her name roused her from her musings.
"Ginny! Ginny!" called a harassed looking wizard, his arms full of packages.
"Neville!" said Ginny, standing up to help him with his load.
"Thanks," said Neville, once he was seated opposite her. The waitress returned with Ginny's breakfast.
"Can I get you anything, sir?" the waitress asked him.
"Nothing for me, thank you. Well, Ginny, what are you doing here so early?" he asked. She swallowed a mouthful of bagel and gestured pointlessly with her coffee mug.
"Sending in my column instalment for next week. Didn't get to have breakfast before coming down here." She took another bite of bagel. "How're things at the Ministry?" Neville was employee in the Department of Transportation. In fact, he was the only one doing his particular job, and seemed always to be busy.
"Oh, just the usual. Had to rush out and get a few personal things." He nodded at the packages. "My day starts early," he added, with a rueful grin. She nodded sympathetically.
"How've you been lately? Haven't seen you around much," asked Neville, eyeing her like cooked meat. She chuckled.
"Fine. I've been spending a lot of time in Muggle London. It's more convenient to my flat." She sipped her coffee and finished the last of her bagel. Neville looked dubious.
"Still, Ginny…You should come to the Ministry sometime, and we'll have lunch." He looked at her hopefully. She smiled.
"Sure, Neville." He beamed.
"Well, I must be off then, see ya, Ginny." He stood up and gathered his packages once again. He grinned at her and turned and headed off down the street. She sipped her coffee and watched him go. She didn't really want to go to the Ministry. She liked Neville very much, but for some reason she really didn't want to leave her flat, go all the way down to the Ministry, and sit for an hour lunch with him. She sighed, finished the rest of her coffee, and Apparated back home.
It had never being easy being the only girl in a family with six boys. It had never been easy being the youngest, either. Despite her intense love of all her family, she couldn't stand these get-togethers at the Burrow. Fred and George always pestered her about her love life, Ron and his wife Hermione were usually all over each other in what Ginny considered a sickening display. Percy was his usual self and lectured her about everything and anything, but more often than not about the opinions expressed in her column. Bill and Charlie were, admittedly, generally well behaved, but Charlie had a habit of questioning her about things she wasn't sure she knew the answer to and looking at her like it was some big secret they shared.
Her mother was not much better. She bustled about, worrying, fretting, feeding her, and usually trying to convince her to move back home. Her father tended to just sit back and smile at her a lot.
So now, with some apprehension, she climbed the steps and stepped into the home of her childhood.
It seemed more crowded than usual, and it did not take Ginny long to notice why. About ten screaming, bouncing, energetic children were running all about. Ginny could only guess it was ten; since they moved about so it seemed like twenty. She stood, mouth agape, arms hanging limply at her sides as the children ran circles around her, chanting gibberish.
"Hello, Ginny," said a gentle, friendly voice. Ginny quickly closed her mouth and looked up into a pair of smiling, green eyes. Harry stood before her, grasping a giggling child with an arm around his chest and another between his legs. The young boy, whom Ginny now noticed had similar green eyes, was hanging slightly on the diagonal, and seemed perfectly content in that position.
"Hi, uh—" she began, but was cut off when her mother, Ron, and brown haired, petite woman came into the room.
"Ginny!" cried Mrs. Weasley, "why didn't you tell us you were here?" She moved forward to take Ginny's package and relieve her of her coat.
"Hey, Gin," said Ron, pulling her into a great, brotherly hug.
"Ginny, this is Sharona… my wife," said Harry, motioning the petite brunette forward. Ginny stared open-mouthed for several seconds, before she realizing it was probably rude.
"Hi, sorry. Nice to meet you," she said, blushing and rushing forward to take the woman's proffered hand.
"It's good to meet you too. I've heard much about you." She smiled at Harry, and he looked back at her, his eyes full of possessive pride and—love.
"Come, come," said Mrs. Wealey, "everyone in the kitchen now. Hurry along." She herded them all into the next room, picking a child off his sister along the way.
"I thought everyone usually left their children at home," Ginny said quietly to her mother when she had the chance.
"Oh, well, since Harry was back from where ever he was, with his new wife, we just decided to have everyone over. Isn't it lovely?" Ginny smiled and nodded, not really thinking it was lovely at all. These get-togethers were noisy enough without the monsters that Ron had convinced her were her nephews, and now Harry's twin boy and girl. Percy's young ones were usually pretty quiet, but the excitement of other children around was too much, even for them. She sighed. She really just wanted the night to be over so she could go home and sit in her loft with her cat and a glass of wine.
Later, when she and Hermione were sitting alone in the kitchen, Ginny finally got to ask the question that had been praying on her mind all night.
"When did Harry get married?" she blurted into the silence. Hermione did not look up from knitting a sweater for her daughter.
"Oh, I'm not entirely sure. I know Ron and I got a letter from him about three years ago. But I think he was married before that. Perhaps… four of five years." Then something suddenly occurred to her, and she looked up at Ginny, her expression odd.
"Does that… bother you? I mean, that he didn't tell you?" she asked.
Ginny thought it over for a minute. "Not…really. I guess I'm just sort of surprised. The twins are… cute." She said, positive Hermione could not possibly have missed the unconvinced hesitation in her voice. But Hermione looked up again and beamed.
"I know, aren't they? They're the perfect playmates for little Ronnie and Markie, and little Alice." Ginny soon wished she had never said anything, for Hermione promptly launched into a narrative about her children that Ginny found nearly as sickening as one of her and Ron's displays.
A short while later, Harry came into the kitchen, looking intent.
"Hermione, could I speak to Ginny for a minute?" he asked.
"Oh, of course. If anyone needs me…" she let the sentence dangle, and took her knitting out of the kitchen.
"Hi," said Harry, when they were alone.
"What do you want?" Ginny was never one for beating about the bush.
Harry sighed heavily. "I guess I just wanted to make sure things were okay, with us. With my not telling you, I guess, about Sharona." He looked at her expectantly.
"Oh, I don't mind. really," Ginny said reassuringly. After all was said and done, she still deeply cared about Harry Potter. She reached forward and took his hand. He smiled.
"I tried to, a couple times. But, it never seemed right. I know that we once-"
"Oh, that was awful, Harry. We were such a mess. You can't still believe I'd be upset if you married someone else?" Harry chuckled and looked down at the table with a rueful smile.
"I suppose not. I—I wish it had worked with us, Ginny. I really do." She leaned forward, and put her arms around him. It felt good just to be held for once.
"Well, I suppose we ought to get out there," she said resignedly. He nodded and led her out into the other room.
Two hours later, she sauntered wearily into her flat and, tossing her coat onto a chair, stared about her.
Ah, peace, she thought. Quiet! She sank gratefully onto the sofa and rubbed her neck and shoulders, trying to ease some of the tension built up over the long night. She noted absently that it was nearly three in the morning. With a sigh, she flicked her wand at the stereo. Buffalo Springfield's version of For What It's Worth streamed out, relaxing her. She rolled onto her back and stretched her long legs out in front of her. Lucifer came walking in with cat-like grace and hopped onto the sofa. He settled himself on her chest and purred as she absently scratched his ears. She hummed along to the song, and was eventually lulled to sleep by the simple notes, and Lucifer's purring.
Ginny awoke around noon the next day to a strange tapping sound coming from somewhere above her. Lucifer was gone from his spot on her chest and the lights on the stereo were blinking frantically, but no sound emerged. She sat up and stretched, feeling the stiffness in her joints and fervently wishing she had not fallen asleep on the sofa.
She looked around, trying to decipher where the noise was coming from. Then it hit her. The loft! Owls!
She scrambled to get to the ladder. Usually, letters for her went to her box at the post office in Hogsmeade, which she visited about once a week-unless they were really important. As she climbed up into the loft, she saw the tawny owl pecking urgently at the window. She opened it and let the creature in out of the cold.
The owl swooped in, perched on a lamp, and ruffled its feathers vigorously. Then it
stretched out its leg with great dignity. Ginny gingerly took the letter from it, thanking it vocally as she had nothing to offer it. It seemed to sniff and swooped out of the room, disappearing in the gray sky. Ginny closed the window after it
Clutching her letter, Ginny headed back downstairs. She put some water on to boil before settling on a large, cushy chair to open and read her letter.
She did not recognize the handwriting, but since it had been addressed to her personally, she assumed it was someone she knew.
Five minutes later she sat there with the letter clenched in her fist, as the kettle whistled unnoticed in the kitchen.
The nerve, she thought. She tossed the crumpled letter away from her and stalked into the kitchen to clam the frantic screaming of the kettle and make her tea.
The letter had been from no one less than Miss Giselda Penniworth. Ginny was used to getting nasty letters from celebrities who were offended by what she's said about them in her column, but this had completely caught her off guard. Penniworth hadn't even seemed offended. She had a sweetness to her letter, which made Ginny feel ill. She had actually offered to pay Ginny, if Ginny would cover her wedding plans with what she termed as "an elegant look." To Ginny, it just seemed like Penniworth's attempt to get Ginny in her pocket. Ginny had never been more insulted in her entire life. With defiance, she stomped back up to the loft to begin her next column. Giselda Penniworth was about to find out that Ginny Weasley could not be bought.
