Chapter 25

"Her birthday!" Ron croaked, as soon as the girls were out of earshot. "Why do I have to keep forgetting her blasted birthday again and again? I forgot last year, and the year before, and if I do it again… That's girls for you! If I forgot your bloody birthday, would you fuss, Harry? See what I mean?"

"Well, no harm done, is there?" Harry said, trying hard to keep the amusement out of his voice. "You know what? I think she gave you that reminder quite deliberately."

"You think so?" Ron went slightly redder than he already was.

"Well, she IS rather smart, isn't she? And that way she has saved you some embarrassment, too… Anyway, let's go and see what you can get her."

"What I can- hey, wait a mo, do you mean YOU have already got her something? AND never told me?"

Now it was Harry's time to turn red.

"Well, actually, I have. There was that book on modern spellwork she mentioned some time last year; so I got it for her first thing I had a chance. And I completely forgot about it all until she mentioned it right now – I'm sorry."

"And you'd happily have let her chew my head off, and basked in your own glory. Some friend," Ron huffed, but he went on, "well, whatever. The point is – what can I get her? Not a book, obviously, so…"

So, together they set out along the High Street, looking at the various shop windows.

"This one looks promising," Ron said presently, pointing at a bright red shop front with a sign in golden letters above it saying Grit Garlick's Gifts. In the window, there was a wide range of bracelets, brooches, and other ornaments, together with a row of extravagantly shaped crystal bottles with colourful labels. "I don't think I've ever noticed it before."

As he had never before felt the need to look for presents of the sort he wanted now, it was no surprise he had never taken notice of a shop like that, even if he had walked past it every single day of his life – which he hadn't.

The inside of the shop was dark and their eyes needed several minutes to get accustomed to the gloom. There were high shelves filled with boxes that seemed to disappear into musty distances. Slightly dusty glass cases contained various assorted items of jewellery.

"And now what?" Ron said, whispering without realising it. "There's hundreds of things… And how do I know what I can afford?"

"Keep cool," Harry told him, suppressing s grin with difficulty. "First – WHAT do you want to get her?"

"I've no idea, really," Ron replied, sounding so wretched that Harry felt sorry for him. "I can't give her a book, can I, now that you are already giving her one; besides, I'd probably get her one she's had for ages already. Would be just my luck", he finished darkly.

"How about some jewellery? There's lots of the stuff here."

"Probably couldn't afford it…"

"You are certainly not making things any easier," Harry said, beginning to feel exasperated.

"Wait a minute-", Ron, who had picked up a small crystal bottle from a low shelf, said. "This thing can't cost the world, can it? Looks nice, too. What do you guess it is?"

Harry, who had seen generations of similar bottles (only, as a rule, a lot uglier) come and go on Aunt Petunia's dresser, recognised it at once.

"Perfume," he said. "Though I wouldn't bet on it being too cheap… But no harm in asking, is there?"

As if on cue, an elderly witch suddenly appeared, seemingly out of nowhere.

"Can I help you?" Her voice was slightly rasping, and her eyes seemed huge behind large glasses.

"Erm – yes – how much would this perfume be?" Ron stammered, handing the bottle to her.

"For the sweetheart, eh?"

Ron blushed furiously, clinging to the small bottle as if he expected it to give him strength.

"But why so hasty?" the old witch continued. "We have many different scents, you should make sure what you get is the right one for her. Here, let me show you…"

With a wave of her wand, a number of vials appeared on the counter, shining in various colours. Ron shot Harry a helpless look, but Harry just shrugged.

"Sorry, mate," he said. "I don't think I can help you with this one. I have no more idea about girls and perfumes than you have. I think I'll just have a look around while you make your choice."

And he wandered off among the shelves, leaving Ron to his fate.

Some clever magic caused a beam of light to move along with him, conveniently illuminating the objects to his right and left: rings, necklaces, brooches, and other various pieces of jewellery glittered in the bright sport of light and fell back into the shadows when he passed them.

A blue glittering object caught his eye, and he stopped to look at it. On a white satin cushion sat a ring, a ring of blinding white with a large blue stone. Now that he was looking at it more closely, he understood why it had arrested his attention.

"It's exactly like her eyes!" he said to himself.

And indeed the stone seemed to be alive, its hues kept oscillating from a dark, almost black, tone to a very light shade of blue like a summer's sky. Harry reached out slowly, fascinated, and took the ring from its cushion.

"And it's silver like her hair!"

He couldn't be sure, but he believed he felt the ring vibrate slightly in his fingers, and it was distinctly warm to his touch. Somehow he felt suddenly sure: He just HAD to give her this ring!

When he returned to the counter, Ron had already made his choice.

"Here, Harry," he said, holding up a small vial. "What do you think? Want to smell it?"

"Seems fine enough to me," Harry said rather absently, taking a sniff, but not really registering much. "I told you I have no idea of this sort of thing…."

"Much help you are," Ron grumbled, shoving a couple of coins over the counter. "Can you wrap it for me?" he asked the witch, who complied to his wish with a few elaborate waves of her wand.

"Wow!" said Ron, impressed. "I wouldn't mind to learn that one!"

He pocketed his purchase and turned towards the door.

"Let's go! I feel I deserve some butterbeer!"

"Wait a moment," Harry said and put the ring on the counter. Ron turned and his eyes widened.

"Wow! What's that?"

"Thought I might just as well see if I find something for Fleur, see?" Harry said defensively in spite of himself. "Merlin knows when there will be the next Hogsmeade weekend."

"This baby will cost you a fortune; but then – you are stuffed, aren't you? And I'm sure she's worth it, too."

Harry chose to ignore the note of envy in Ron's voice. "How much would you want for this?" he inquired of the witch.

"A really beautiful ornament, if I may say so," she said. "It will make a beautiful gift for a beautiful young lady, will it not?"

"Erm – does it – does it have any special magical qualities?"

"None that I know of; just an especially beautiful specimen of a moonstone, is all."

"So – how much is it, then?"

"As I said, it's exceptionally fine, so-"

"How much?"
"We are a bit impatient, aren't we? But I like eagerness in young people… So I'll let you have it for… let's say… 75 galleons?"

There was a sharp intake of breath from Ron, but Harry ignored it.

"Not exactly cheap," he said quietly. "But I expect it's worth it. Luckily, I have all my term's money with me."

And he took out a leather pouch and started to count out the gold coins.

"You won't regret it, believe me," the witch said as she put the ring carefully in a small satin lined box and waved her wand to wrap it.

"Man," said Ron in an awed voice as they left the shop. "Seventy-five! That's more than my allowance for the school year! I knew you were rolling in it, but I had no idea…She'd better appreciate it, is all I can say."

To which Harry, who felt rather embarrassed at this obvious display of envy, could not utter more than an indistinct noise that he hoped sounded deprecating.

In a somewhat tense silence they made their way to the pub.

As usual at a Hogsmeade weekend, the Three Broomsticks was packed with students. Therefore, it was not so easy for Fleur and Hermione to spot the two boys, whom they eventually found in one of the alcoves in the background.

"Helloo!"

Ron had jumped up waving his arms at them.

"What-" he began, but when he got a better view of Hermione he stopped and gaped at her.

"Eyes as big as saucers-" Hermione remarked in a satisfied tone, turning around once and giving him a wide grin. "Does that mean you like what you see?"

"Ah – erm – eh…"

"Better than any Confundus Charm could ever work," Fleur said dryly, causing Harry to snigger.

And indeed, Hermione, or, perhaps, Margaux and Iphigenie, had effected a rather substantial change in her appearance. Her light yellow silk blouse, which shimmered with a lustre only wizarding haute-couture can achieve, set off the colour of her hair in a lovely way, and although even prim and proper McGonagall could not have found fault with the cut of its neckline, it was close-cut enough to accentuate the fact that Hermione was, indeed, a girl. The wide, flouncy skirt was white with a pattern of large red flowers, and was just so much shorter than the regulation school skirt as to leave no doubt about that fact. When she turned, it had a tendency to spread out around her so that the hemline rose a tiny bit higher still in the process. Probably this was the main reason for Ron's present verbosity or rather lack thereof.

It was Harry, who, by a well placed push with his elbow, bought him back to his senses.

"Erm – you look – er – great!" he managed to say at last, his eyes still wide.

With a look that, on anyone else, would have been smug, Hermione sat down next to him. When a silence started to set on them, Harry gave Ron another push.

"What?" said Ron, tearing his eyes away from Hermione.

Harry rolled his eyes almost Hermione-like, and at last Ron seemed to get the hint.

"Oh, yes… erm… where is it?-"

"Not your most articulate day today… Are you looking for this?" Harry said, grinning at him and handing him a small parcel wrapped in light blue paper.

Blushing furiously, Ron grabbed the parcel and offered it to Hermione.

"Erm – Happy Birthday!"

"Oh thank you!" She took the present, leaned over to him and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. "See?" she said, turning to Fleur, "I was right after all. Now, let's see…"

She started unwrapping the parcel. A small purple crystal bottle soon shone in the light.

"I- I couldn't think of a book you might want," Ron stammered, his face crimson again. "And- Harry had already got you one, too… so I thought, perhaps you'd like this…"

"A pretty little flagon," Hermione said, sounding puzzled.

"It's perfume," Ron blurted out. "Smell it, will you?" He added in a pleading tone.

"Oh, all right," she said giving him a rather indulgent smile. "If you insist…"

She took off the stopper and sniffed.

"Hmm, it's- rather- unusual…" she said, putting the vial on the table, and an observant eye might have noticed her smile was slightly forced.

"Thank you, Ron. It's really thoughtful of you! And there was silly me thinking you'd forgotten again…"

Before Ron could answer, Margaux and Iphigenie came up to their table, and she stowed the vial away in her bag.

"Ah, Le Garcon qui vive!" Margaux said, beaming at Harry and shaking his hand heartily. "I'm so excited to meet you again, 'Arry. Fleur 'ere 'as told us what 'appened at the last task. So you've defeated Vous-savez-qui another time, 'aven't you?"

Harry's face turned hard; the last thing he wanted to be reminded of was Voldemort and the horrible events of the third task.

"He does look nice," Margaux, oblivious to Harry's mood, went on to Fleur in French. "Good choice, Fleur."

"I'm not sure there was much of a choice involved," Fleur muttered, embarrassed.

"Indeed," Iphigenie added, "if it wasn't for you, cherie-" and she squeezed Margaux' arm affectionately, "I don't know…"

"Ah shut up, both of you," Fleur told them. "And don't goggle at him as if he had two heads or something. I've told you before how he hates all that attention. Sorry about that," she addressed the others in English again. "I must apologize for these two gossiping chatterboxes, Harry, they have just experienced something like a celebrity shock; I hope you don't mind…"

"Well, I suppose it's only to be expected," he replied. "Especially after all the tall stories you'll have told them…" He gave her a smile to show he was joking, but Fleur could not help noticing it was a somewhat strained smile.

But before Fleur could reply, Draco Malfoy, who, unnoticed by them, had approached their table, interjected,

"Mudbloods not enough for you, Potter? Consorting with half-breeds now? Not satisfied with mere humans any more? What's it going to be next? I hear mer-women are especially passionate – in their own way… Why not give them a try some time?"

"Shut up Malfoy," Harry said tiredly, not even looking up. "I'm not in the mood. Why don't you just go away and-"

"And drown yourself in some dung heap or something," Hermione added. "But then, that would be environmental pollution, wouldn't it? Whatever, just stop poisoning the air for decent people…"

"You're just jealous, aren't you?" Fleur said brightly. And she put her arms round Harry and kissed him.

"Mer-people, eh?" Margaux, although she had not understood each single word, had been able to follow the argument easily enough. "I can 'elp you 'ere…"

A wave of her wand and a fast spell later Draco Malfoy looked very different. His skin was a bluish green, with his hair a shade darker, and there were webbed fingers on his hands. And all his clothes had disappeared, and the only garment he was wearing was a short skirt of various shades of green that seemed to consist of various sorts of sea-grass and algae.

A roar of laughter shook the entire pub, and even the Slytherins present could only suppress their hilarity with difficulty.

"Oh, Malfoy, I must say," Harry told him. "What WILL it be next? First a ferret, now a frog? Not really aiming for greatness, are you?"

Speechless with fury and embarrassment, Draco stood rooted to the spot for some time. When he had recovered from his shock, he left hastily, amid the renewed uproar in the pub.

"Awesome!" Ron said staring at Margaux with big eyes. "How did you do that?"

"Oh, just a little spell I learned," she said modestly. "I use it for carnival parties…"

"How will he get back to normal?" Hermione asked. "Not that this new look of his wasn't an improvement…"

"It wears down after three or four hours; and 'e will not be the worse for it."
"Not he himself, perhaps," Ron said, grinning. "But his reputation…"

"Talking about new looks, though," Iphigenie put in. "What do you think about 'Ermione's? I mean, your first reaction was quite impressive, to be sure, but don't you think you might be a bit more outspoken?"

"Oui," Iphigenie assisted, "girls like being told they look great, you know…"

Ron immediately turned red again, and began to open and close his mouth silently in a fishlike manner.

Hermione, although she silently agreed with the French girls, took pity on him.

"Ah, leave him alone, will you?" she scolded, trying to conceal her merriment. "Ron's just not your great talker. I know what he would say if he could find the words, and I'm happy with that…"

And she planted another kiss on Ron's cheek.