Night at the Meat Market

Ginny was dressed to the nines. A stylist had been hired—which saved Ginny a lot of trouble—and they had done their job in treating her like a dress up doll. "I still don't get why they had to get me a sling. I don't even need it anymore."

"Think of how much more you'll raise," Gwenog said with great dispassion.

"Does it really have to be silk, though?" Ginny protested. "Honestly, I have never seen anyone match their sling to their dress robes."

The blue was a spectacular color. That was one thing to not complain about at least. Still, the day of primping had worn her out, and she still had a night to get through.

Irene was with Ginny when they exited the exquisite carriages that were hired for the various teams attending the event. Ginny figured with all the money they'd spent to deck out the mansion before them, they could have supported the Mungo's Children fund without selling her on the block like a piece of meat. "Oh well," she sighed. At least there was an open bar. Audrey and Percy would be meeting her too, so she'd have them to lean on when she was exhausted with mingling.

The hall where they were directed shimmered with the light reflected through the several hanging chandeliers. Ginny smiled as she noticed some fireworks zooming in the shapes of different Quidditch players around the ceiling. She watched a blue seeker zoom by with embers falling in a tail behind it. Several people gasped and cheered as she smiled. Distracted by the spectacle, she hadn't even noticed the pack of reporters grouping to meet her at the bottom of the stairs.

"Miss Weasley, Miss Weasley," they all clamored for her attention. Their questions blended into one another as pens flew across the page and paused for her response. "How did you feel in the moments you saved your teammates?"

"Is foul play suspected?"

"How do you take your pancakes?"

Ginny did her best to reply without becoming overwhelmed. There were flashbulbs every time she turned. She tried to continue to smile, as Gwenog instructed. "Ginny, Ginny," someone was shouting through the crowd, waving madly at her from the back.

Percy stood there with Audrey, giving Ginny a real reason to smile… and her escape. "I'm terribly sorry," she said as patiently as she could for the moment. "If you'll excuse me for the moment."

She started to part the sea of anxious inquiries after her. Audrey grabbed her free hand as Irene gave her the final push. "It's amazing so many people have made it through that," Ginny commented with a laugh.

"Well, no one so far has been half so popular," Audrey said. She seemed more proud than annoyed by this.

Ginny looked around, scoping out who the bidders might be as they arrived. There were plenty of young attractive women—most of whom were flocking around one of the Irish players she'd heard so much about. She supposed most of them would be bidding on him.

The men, however, either appeared to have a date or were obviously wealthy donors who aged at least in their fifties. She wondered if the grey-haired man in the red robes that caught her eye was planning to buy her up. He was definitely older than her her own dad. Cringing at this thought, Ginny turned her attention to the conversation surrounding her. Several other Harpies had managed to congregate around one spot as other teams appeared to be doing the same.

"Yes, yes, I know the minister quite well," Percy said, speaking to a smallish middle aged witch. "Old family friend, you know."

Ginny looked towards the stairs. The reporters seemed to have found a new star to harass with all sorts of questions. Of course all of those being auctioned off as dates were already here. Their invitations requested they be here promptly, as to give bidders a chance to speak with them.

Her eyes strained as the laughter from the group faded away from her mind. The lights all seemed to focus on the same spot as a couple stepped through. There was a girl—eighteen maybe nineteen years old, Ginny guessed—with a winning smile and a halo of gold hair. She looked perfectly situated on the arm of Harry Potter.

Harry hated the Prophet. He couldn't turn a corner without someone there to ask series of ridiculous questions and tonight he just wanted to blend in. Of course Patricia Dawlish didn't help any. "I was so excited when Uncle John told me I'd be getting to come here, but to be going with Harry Potter—"She let out a half gasp, half giggle. "I just can't wait until they hear about this back home!"

That giggle from her lips kept bringing back the image of slugs spilling from Ron's mouth. The more she giggled, the more tempting it became to find a way to ditch her. He felt like he was back at Hogwarts, being forced to take someone to the Yule Ball. Only it was worse this time: he was being forced to take his boss's niece.

"Yeah," was all he said and she giggled again.

Never again. Ron could take the next visiting niece out. He'd seemed so sullen that Harry would be going anyway, though Harry couldn't figure why. The last thing he'd said to Harry on the matter was to stay away from Ginny. Harry had done just that. Besides which, if Ron heard her giggle even once Harry was sure his surly pout would turn to sympathy. "Oh-oh, look," she said, pointing to a crowd. "I just love the Harpies. Let's go over and meet them."

Harry craned his neck up and over to see. He had asked around and found it was atypical for every quidditch player to get tickets to this fundraiser. Harry had also found a moment to badger Hermione to see if she knew whether or not Ginny was coming. She had said she didn't think so. Harry felt better about that. "Percy," he whispered.

"What was that?" Patricia turned.

"Percy," he pointed to Ron's brother. "I didn't think he would be here. Oh, but that's his girlfriend."

"Which girl? The redhead?"

"No," Harry replied, "brunette. What redhead are you—" He trailed off, Ginny coming into view. She was laughing at someone, her eyes following the ever developing firework-quidditch-players. Who was she here with? He hoped to Merlin the Harpies all came together. No one was near her. And he noticed her arm was still in a sling, though her face looked fully healed. His mind reeled through things he could go ask her.

Of course none of his schemes would work—he had a giggling goblin he was chaperoning for the night. "Oh, if you know her can we go say hello? Pleeeeease?" The begging and pout on her face were more irritating than the giggling.

"Sure," Harry said, unenthusiastic. They stepped through the crowd, Patricia smiling and giggling all the way over.

"Percy, Audrey," Harry said. The two of them turned and Patricia went into a quick ramble.

"You play for the Harpies," she said. "Oh, I have always wanted to play for the Harpies."

"You play Quidditch?" Audrey asked. She was trying hard not to make faces, Harry noticed.

"Oh my, yes," Patricia said. "My father signed me up for a league in Somerset and I'm the best seeker they've seen in years."

Harry highly doubted this, but at the moment he was distracted, ignoring the giggling and bragging to stare at Ginny. He wished she'd look at him. A couple of times her eyes flickered over, but she seemed bent on looking away. He thought of Christmas and how sweet she had been toward him with everyone else around. He supposed it was too much to expect her to do that here as well.

Maybe while Patricia was distracted with rubbing shoulders, he could go talk with her. This could be his only chance for some time. Between her season and his workload, it might be hard to find opportunities. And he had to fix things. Or at least start to until he could come up with a strategy to keep her safe.

As Harry inched his way over, he noticed another man—tall, thin, and with straw blonde hair—coming up behind her, touching her elbow. He'd curse the pig. Curse him all the way back to the crusades where they could burn him at the stake.

Harry managed to get near. If he'd called out Ginny's name he could have stopped her from going away with the blonde, keep her from dancing with him. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. He couldn't bring attention to the himself and Ginny with so many reporters around. Ron would kill him. Someone might target her. They never confirmed if the man in the back alley was working with anyone else.

"Harry," he heard from behind him. "Harry, you didn't tell me you know other players! They say you know Oliver Wood too."

"Yeah," Harry watched Ginny's hands being taken by the blonde's. He forced himself to look back to Patricia. "He was captain for about half my time at Hogwarts."

She clapped her hands together and giggled. Audrey looked between Harry and Patricia with eyes that asked if this girl was for real. "And Percy knows Uncle John too."

Percy smiled and nodded with enthusiasm. "Certainly. Been a friend for years."

The two started playing a "do you know" game, Percy spouting out names while Patricia oohed, ahhed and giggled. Harry thought they made quite a sight, but it gave him time to watch Ginny, however little consolation that provided.

In the middle of Patricia's story of how she was the most popular in her year, an old man stood on the stage, signaling the band to stop. The auction was to begin. Harry supposed he'd have to buy Patricia something. Maybe he would be lucky and there'd be some ear plugs he could get for himself. Anything for a good cause, after all.

He watched the man Ginny had danced with kiss her hands and walk off the dance floor. She went the other direction, more towards the back. The man made a speech about the cause, how nice it was to have everyone gathered and what a pleasure it was to be the one appointed to lead the auction. Harry didn't see how the man would be able to stand long enough, the way he was shaking.

The old man leaned on a cane, pulled out a list and read off a name. An older player, one perhaps in his early thirties, entered the stage. He was dressed in fairly plain dress robes, though he'd adorned it with bright orange accessories. The announcer introduced him from the Chudley Cannons. "Wait," Harry said. "What's being auctioned?"

Patricia looked at Harry as if he were the airhead. "It's a date auction," she said. "It said so on the back of the tickets."

"Date auction?" He looked at Percy and Audrey. They looked guilty.

Audrey was the one to explain it. "The highest bidder gets a date with the person auctioned."

"Oh," Harry said. That sounded fine. He didn't know why they seemed so cautious in mentioning it. He had been surprised was all. At least he wouldn't be expected to buy anything.

All four of them looked back to the stage, listening to the bids. "Jacob Geffrey," Patricia said, as if Harry hadn't heard. "He's the best player Germany has."

Other players came on the stage, were auctioned for anywhere between a hundred and three hundred galleons. "For the children of Mungo's, of course," the old man continued to remind them.

"And now," the auctioneer threw he arms out to hush the crowds. "A young lady we have all heard of, for both performance on and off the field. A true hero of the game, Miss Ginevra Weasley."

The screams were deafening, but Harry couldn't hear them. His stomach twisted, pushing his dinner to the surface. Ginny was pushed to the stage by some teammates, her head modestly bowing to the audience as she waved. Her cheeks were pink and edging more and more towards red as the crowd continued. Everyone went wild, throwing kisses, cat calling and shouting out her name. She was a crowd favorite. Harry hated it.

"And we'll start the bidding at thirty galleons, do I have thirty? I have thirty—" he pointed towards the man with the blonde hair Ginny had danced with. "Do I have forty? Forty. Can I get fifty?—"

The bidding continued. Up and up, the bidding was at two-seventy. Favoring the blonde man. "Do I get two-seventy-five? Two-seventy-five? Anyone? Going once—" No, that couldn't be it. "Going twice—"

"Four hundred Galleons!"

Harry watched Ginny's eyes go wide and turn straight to him before he realized what had just come out of his mouth.

There was a murmur waving in and out of the crowd. Ginny shut her mouth and swallowed. What was he doing? He came here with someone else. Four hundred Galleons?

"Four-ten," Landon—the man she'd danced with earlier—said.

"F-four-ten," the auctioneer said, suddenly unsure. "Do I have—"

"Four-fifty," Harry said, more aware of what he said, this time. Perhaps even regretting it.

Ginny tried to look relaxed, but she could tell her smiling was more forced now. Certainly every one else saw that too.

"Four-seventy-five," Landon said.

Up and up it went, the two of them shouting out numbers, the auctioneer didn't even have time to interject suggestions. "Six-ninety," Harry said.

Landon at seven-twenty. The girl who Harry had come in with looked absolutely mortified with the whole exchange. Of course Harry could always tell her that Ginny was just like a little sister. It wasn't out of the realm of possibilities that Ron put him to this, in fact.

"Eight-hundred," Harry screamed. His face was flushing red. Everyone was silent as Landon threw up his hands in defeat. The auctioneer recovered first. "Eight hundred going once…going twice… sold! To Mr. Harry Potter."

Most people clapped. Some whispered. Harry's date folded her arms. Ginny was ushered off the stage. The volunteers had been given a designated area to wait and meet the person who'd bid for them after everyone was done. Ginny pushed through the group, making her way to the bar. Tonight was worse than she could have imagined. Even if she hadn't been truly interested in Landon, she could at least accept him as a distraction. And a damn good looking one too. Now she had nothing. Harry had someone else here, he couldn't just ignore that. And she'd be forced to be alone and watch him. Watch him get her a drink. Watch them talk. Watch them dance.

"What can I get—"

"Anything," Ginny interrupted the bar tender.

His charming smile faltered, obviously unused to abrupt orders. "Excuse me?"

"No, not anything. Something strong."

She waited for him to pour, then downed a shot. "Another," she gasped. "Actually two more." He took the empty glass and replaced it with two more, pouring something with a caramel tint to it.

"Ginny, what are you doing?" Percy and Audrey had found her. Audrey was standing back.

"Getting stark, raving drunk, that's what," she told Percy, then downed the second, grabbing the third, throwing back the liquid.

She turned to look at the crowd. The group was paying attention to the auction again, for the most part. But after the war between Harry and Landon, the regular sell of Quidditch players seemed anti-climatic. Ginny could see Harry, arguing with his date while a man came down to get Harry to sign a voucher for his purchase. Maybe he'd tell them it was a mistake and she'd go to the next highest bidder.

She finished the third drink. "Another," she commanded the bartender.

"No, Ginny," Percy tried to grasp her good wrist to stop her.

"Don't touch me," she pulled back, the contents of her glass sloshing all over the floor.

Audrey stepped forward. "Ginny, you probably shouldn't have anymore."

Ginny set down the glass and walked away from them. She felt trapped. The room was closing in on her. She had to escape. She grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing waiter on the way out to the gardens. She'd lost her brother and Audrey. That was good. They could go back and enjoy themselves while she drowned herself in a glass of personal anesthetics. She pulled off the sling, stretching her arm out as she emptied the champagne glass. She stared at the intricate pattern. So soft, so delicate. It shimmered, but that was only because of how it caught a little bit of light. When they were packed away again, when the glasses were washed and finished, they would be put back into cases. They would be left until they were needed again. She threw the empty glass as hard as she could at a tree. It shattered and fell into the ground around the tree's base.

"Ginny?"

She turned around. Harry looked at her, then nervously at the gardens around them. They could see reporters through the large windows of the ballroom. They were distracted for the moment. Still, Harry's eyes shifted. "We need to talk. Let's go somewhere no one can see."

"Oh are we back to that?" Ginny demanded loudly.

"Back to what?"

"Let's hide Ginny," she spat. Her lungs felt like she kept breathing in more air while none came out. Her chest tightened. "Let's put her away in a little box so no one can see. No one can touch. Let's leave her alone there…"

"It's not like that," Harry said, reaching out to her.

She jerked away. "… like a little porcelain doll. Nobody breathe the wrong way now, or she might just break. Let's keep her safe now."

"Ginny," he was more demanding this time.

She should care that people were watching. There were cameras flashing, but she didn't care. Percy and Audrey had just run up. "We got Patricia to bid on one of the Irish players. She seemed happy enough," Audrey said. Ginny figured she must be getting close to drunk enough, because not a word of that made any sense to her.

She saw a tray with several unattended drinks left on a ledge in the garden. Ginny walked toward it, grabbing one of the tumblers. "I don't think so," Harry said, trying to wrestle it away from her mid-drink.

"Ge-off me," her slur, melting into tears. "Let me be."

She wanted to scream some more but suddenly felt ill. She held her stomach and turned to find a bush. "Great," she heard Percy exclaim.

Everything started to become fuzzy. Someone was touching her back, pulling her hair away from her face. She tried to swat them away, but couldn't manage it. They were all muttering, but she couldn't understand a word. Occasionally she heard her name, but the retching seemed to just continue. She was finally prisoner of self-inflicted misery instead of anyone else's.

Harry held back Ginny's hair as she let a little more of her vomit into the bushes. "Get them out of here," he instructed Percy and Audrey while nodding towards a few curious reporters edging themselves towards the open doors to the garden. They'd been lucky so far. Auctioning was still going on, but this was getting to be too big for them to ignore much longer. What had he done? In hind sight he should have stuck it out the night with Patricia and gone back to planning in the morning. But then hind sight was always 20/20. It was his foresight that needed work.

Ginny slumped to the ground, groaning and breathing deeply. "More," she said.

Harry knelt beside her, pushing back some locks of that silky red hair. "I think not," he said. "Come on. You're going home."

"No," she muttered, laying on the hard, cold ground. "I need—"

Harry didn't figure out what she needed. He picked her up and carried Ginny in his arms. This felt right. Take away the cameras, the staring onlookers, and the looming threats of people who wanted to get back at Harry for whatever reason. This just felt right.

Percy and Audrey had done well, clearing a path and giving a false lead about some bad shrimp. He made his way through the back of the stage, letting the bidding distract others as he took Ginny out a side door to where carriages waited. "Hey... hey!" he shouted to one of the drivers, sitting with his feet stuck up and a pipe hanging out of his mouth. Harry carried Ginny to the carriage where the door was open.

"Where to?" the man asked, sitting forward.

"To the Harpy headquarters," Harry replied, taking the seat next to Ginny. She was out again, her head lulled onto his shoulder. His mind cycled through ways he could turn this around. The media might take it in one of two directions. The first would bring up the angle of them as secret lovers. Harry, the jealous boyfriend, can't let the secret last long enough to allow his girl to be auctioned off to some other man. For once they'd actually be close to the truth. Only Ginny's reaction was something less than admiring towards him. Harry looked at her again. He adjusted her, straightening Ginny's right arm so she wouldn't re-injure it.

He could call in a few favors. Have a reminder dropped of how the Weasley family had all but adopted Harry, making his action one of brotherly concern. It would still play well and perhaps it would be bought by anyone out there looking to hurt him.

Harry hadn't the time to think through it all before the carriage stopped in front of the flats. "'ere you are sir," the driver said.

He reached into his pocket and gave the driver a tip. "Ginny," he shook her gently. Her eyes half opened, her gaze was gentle. "Ginny, do you have a key?"

She nodded and swallowed. She laid her head against his shoulder again and he could have stayed there forever if the driver wasn't in a hurry to get back. "Other people, you know," he kept saying as Harry gathered Ginny into his arms again.

She was conscious enough by now to give him instructions on where the key was in a small hidden pocket of her clutch. She even warned him that the top step of the porch was wobbly. When they made it into her little place, Harry set her down on the couch and wondered what to do. What would Mrs. Weasley do? "I'll make you a pot of tea," he said, taking strides into the kitchen.

That was just what she needed, some tea to sober her up. Then she wouldn't be upset and maybe she could help him come up with a plan. They could talk. He could properly apologize: for tonight, for New Years, for his birthday. He started sorting through words. That had been his problem the last six months. The words never seemed to come out right.

Harry lit the stove and was filling up the teapot when there was a soft question from the next room. "Why?"

Harry stopped the water. He set down the pot, stood in the doorway between the living room and kitchen. She hadn't moved. Ginny's head was still on her folded arms against the side of the couch. "What was that?" he asked.

"Why?" she said again, her voice choked. "I don't get it."

Harry didn't reply. He stood there, looking as tears filled Ginny's eyes and she continued.

"I thought at first you would come around. You would see that being together was more important than anything. But now…" She stifled a sob. "You're acting like my brother again and I want to know why I always thought differently. Did I just never see things clear? Was it all in my head?" Ginny looked over to him. "Or did you love me once and now that's gone?"

Harry didn't say anything. The tears were pouring now and he hated himself. All this time he had been so sure the problem was that she still knew how much he cared. He never stopped to think about how she saw his actions. He never imagined that from Ginny's point of view she could see herself as anything less than she actually was to him. He'd spent months with the goal of convincing her that she needed something else. And he'd succeeded in some weird, twisted way. Not a way he liked.

"I-I just need to know," Ginny said. She waited, but Harry looked down at the ground, ashamed of himself. Ginny wiped her nose in the nook of her arm and took a last shuddering breath. She curled up into the arm of the couch.

Maybe Ginny didn't need tea at all. Harry set the kitchens to rights and sat on the ground by the couch, holding Ginny's hand until she fell asleep. He grabbed a blanket, the same one they'd curled under the stars beneath last summer, and tucked it up around her chin. "I just want you safe," Harry said. He leaned down to kiss Ginny's cheek and wiped a stray tear that had puddled on her nose. He stayed there, holding her hand until morning and left just before the dawn. More carriages arrived as he left.

The first step this morning would be to talk with Ron.