"You're just going down the lane?"
"Yes, Mum."
"And you'll wear your warmest cloak?"
"I'll put the heating charm on it myself, Molly."
Mrs. Weasley eyed both of them. It was nearly a week after the row she and Ginny had, and she was still smarting over it, Harry could tell. But the healers had said Ginny could now have extended outings, and there was not much Mrs. Weasley could do after that pronouncement.
"I've already taken my strengthening potion," announced Ginny, tugging on her cloak, and fastening it in the front.
"Is that new?" Harry asked. Had he seen her in that before? There were subtle vines tracing down the front, lightening the otherwise relentless black. And the fastenings were silver and carved with something…
"Well spotted, mate," said Ron, around a mouthful of food.
"You know we're meant to eat down in the village," said Harry.
Ron swallowed. "I know. I just don't want to get peckish on the way."
"It is new," said Ginny. "Well. New-old."
Harry peered at her. Her hair was all bunched up inside the hood of her cloak; the black made it look a red as vivid as it had been half a year ago. There were fewer strands of white, except for the great clump of it she had tucked behind her ear. "How does that work?"
"Aunt Muriel sent over a trunk of old things, and I grabbed this one before Mum could," said Ginny.
"Can we get on with it?" Ron asked, exasperated. "Since when do you even notice what someone's wearing, Harry?"
Flustered, Harry stared at him a moment. "Since – I'm about to charm it, you oaf. Of course I noticed." Ginny placed her hand on his arm and the embarrassed, prickling feeling he'd had shifted into a more pleasant tingle.
"Well, get on with it, then," said Hermione.
Muttering under his breath, Harry drew his wand. It was curious, that when he grasped his wand in his hand, it felt much the way Ginny's touch on his arm did: warm and bright and the tiniest bit fluttery.
"It must be nice, to be back with your old wand," Ginny murmured, as though following along an echo of his own thoughts. "It's nice to see you reunited with it."
"It is," said Harry, who had used a variety of wands before using the Elder Wand to restore the holly and phoenix. "It's so much better than anything else."
Her fingers tightened on his forearm and her lips curved upward in a smile. "Well, Potter," she said, in a way that made his spine straighten. It was suddenly much too hot in the Burrow's small sitting room. "Are you going to show me what you can do with that, or what?"
This time, his flush traveled down his body, rather than up, and he was suddenly and fervently grateful for the cloaks that wizards were allowed to wear. Stop it, now is not the time. But with the wan February light shining through the windows and landing in her hair, Harry had a hard time convincing himself of that. Ginny had improved in leaps and bounds in the last week: there was a brightness in her eyes and a luster of health about her skin. Even her freckles were returning to the same little scatter across her nose.
"Harry, come on," Ron moaned.
"Sorry, I nearly forgot the incantation," he said.
"How? We used it thirty times a day when we were staying in that old tent."
Harry shrugged, not wanting to get in too deep an argument with Ron. Avoiding Ginny's all-too-seeing gaze, he tapped his wand lightly against her cloak. A rush of warmth filled the space between them for the second time in two minutes. But when Ginny made to turn, he said: "Wait, I've an idea." Then, he brushed the silver fastenings that held her cloak together. "This will hold the heat longer," he told her.
"Perfect," said Ginny, pulling away once he'd finished. "Thank you, Harry."
Harry nodded.
"Finally," said Ron.
It was, Harry had to admit, a nice day for walking, if one liked the biting cold and snow drifts lining the little lane. But heating charms generally made winter walks better in every possible way, and today was no exception. The wind stung his cheeks, but it felt good to be out of doors, walking with his oldest friends.
"I can't believe that in all these years, I have never been to Ottery St. Catchpole," said Hermione, taking the lead. Ron was just behind her, but Harry and Ginny dawdled in the back.
"It's not much," said Ron.
"It's just a little speck," said Ginny. "Blink, and you'll miss it."
Hermione turned to walk backwards. "Is that because you two just fly over it all the time?"
"No, are you joking?" Ron asked. "Mum would kill us." He made his voice high and shrill. "The Statute of Secrecy, boys, the Statute of Secrecy!"
"She never worried about that with me," Ginny smirked.
"That's because you lied about flying," said Ron. "Maybe we'd better brace ourselves for if the villagers recognize Ginny as the witch who buzzes by on her broom…"
"Would they really not recognize you?" Harry asked. It intrigued him, all of a sudden, to think of Ron and Ginny interacting with the Muggles who lived down the lane. Every time he'd been over for a visit, they'd stuck to the Burrow for the whole of it, but perhaps that was just because of security concerns. And hadn't the twins gone down to the village? "Do you not go there?"
"Hardly ever," said Ginny.
"I was only joking," said Ron, "they won't remember Ginny."
"But why?" Hermione asked.
"Oh, when we were little, we didn't go because Mum was always afraid we'd do something magical," said Ginny. There was a slight hitch in her breath; Harry took her arm. "None of us were any good at concealing our magic, and seven is a lot to keep track of."
"Yeah, Mum says she'd go down there more when Bill and Charlie were little, but when Percy came along, it was too many," Ron put in.
Harry chuckled a little. "And you always had your own vegetables and such," he said.
"That's right," said Ginny. Her teeth caught at her bottom lip. "It's odd, you know. The first time I'm allowed out and about, and we're going down to Ottery St. Catchpole."
Yesterday, when he'd first heard that Ginny was to be allowed out for a bit of shopping and perhaps tea somewhere, he'd assumed they would be going to Diagon Alley. But Molly, who was still rather overset by her daughter's curse, had mentioned that Apparition was hard on the body. By the time Arthur had come out with a compromise – Ginny visiting the Muggle village just over the hill and down the lane – tensions had been high. In truth, Harry thought this was a much better idea, and not just because of Ginny's still-fragile health. In Diagon Alley, he would either have to wear his invisibility cloak or to completely disguise himself.
"Harry's glad we didn't go to Diagon Alley," Ron announced.
Ginny stumbled over her feet; Harry caught her. "Sorry," she muttered, "I'm better in the air. And – oh. I didn't even think that Diagon Alley would be uncomfortable for you. Merlin, though, I needed to get out of that house."
"Understandable," said Harry.
"Harry still avoids crowds," Hermione said.
"You would too if everyone started chanting your name and coming up to you." A prickle of annoyance washed over him. "It was fine when I was eleven, but now it's getting a bit more absurd." He squinted ahead of them. "Is that the village I see in the distance?"
But Ron would not let him change the subject. "It's the only reason he's going to Luna's nutter ball, isn't it, mate? It's a masquerade, so—ouch, woman! Your elbows are like daggers!"
Hermione tossed him a dirty look. "We weren't going to mention that today. Because—"
"Because Mum's being unreasonable, and won't let me go," said Ginny, with a cheerful grin. When Ron and Hermione weren't looking, she winked at Harry, who knew that she planned to attend anyway, despite her mother's orders.
"You're still going?" he muttered out of the corner of his mouth.
"Wild hippogryffs couldn't keep me away," said Ginny in a whisper so small, the wind nearly snatched it away before Harry could hear it.
His lips twitched. But inside… his heart had skipped a beat to be reminded that she was going, that there was going to be possibilities opening up for him – for them. There was a look in her eye, a little gleam that brightened the brown, that told him he was not alone in thinking that something might change that night, and not just because it would signify that she was healed, finally, and could resume the life she'd had before the curse.
"Good," he said, finally. "Good."
"You'll just have to make sure I don't get caught," said Ginny.
"I'll try my best," he said, smiling.
"Oi!" yelled Ron. "Hurry it up, you two! I'm starving!"
"Oh, Ron," said Hermione. "You just had a meat pie."
"It was a tiny one!"
Harry and Ginny caught up with Ron and Hermione, and together, the four of them walked the last little way.
Ottery St. Catchpole was small; Ginny's description had not been that far off the mark. There was a small church at the very center with an equally small graveyard attached to it. The white stones gleamed in the wintry sun. Across from the church was a pub; its doors were open and noise spilled out, despite the early hour. There were few cars on the street, and most were parked on side-streets. The four of them walked on the cobbled stone, peering curiously into shop windows.
"There's the paper shop that Fred and George like," said Ginny, pointing.
Ron scoffed. "They just like the girl there."
"Certainly not that one," Hermione muttered. Behind the counter was a plump, matronly looking woman.
"Dunno," said Ron. "They like Rosmerta well enough…"
"George, especially," Ginny put in.
There was a little market. They slowed to allow a mum and her baby pass; she tossed them a thank you before she disappeared around the corner. Somehow, between the paper store and the market, Harry's hand had slid down to clasp Ginny's. Their fingers were interlocked; her cool palm pressed against his. They had never held hands before, and he wished he'd remembered the moment they'd done it, instead of just realizing it.
He stared down at the top of her head. Was it Ginny who'd done it? Or had he? Either way, it was a pleasant feeling unwinding in the pit of his stomach. Giddy, even.
"Oi, you kids!"
Ginny's grip dropped from his.
A trio of young men, not much older than he and Ron, pushed themselves off the wall upon which they had been leaning, and moved forward.
"Yes?" Harry said, supremely annoyed.
"Whatchoo wearing those for?" one asked, belligerent.
"You in some sort of geek gang?" At that, all three of them laughed and slapped each other's hands.
"What's a geek?" asked Ginny.
"Why don't you come over here, and I'll let you know?"
Harry pushed forward. "We aren't geeks," he said coldly. "Get out of our way, please." These three were just like Dudley and his gang of teenagers, though these three were a bit old for it. They were now repeating his words, high and mocking. Merlin, did every community have a gang of Dudley Dursleys and Piers Polkisses?
"You're something all right," said the leader.
"And we—"
Just then, at that very moment when the trio of unpleasant young men were smirking at them, but also had the movement of circling hyenas, lightning dashed across the sky with the effect of a flashbulb going off. Harry took that opportunity to step backward, away from the men, while Hermione dragged Ron across the street.
"Let's go," he muttered to Ginny.
"Hey!" one of the men yelled, but Harry ignored them.
They were across the cobbled street and right next to a pub with a street sign out front of it proclaiming it to have the best shepherd's pie in the whole of Devon when they realized they'd lost Ron and Hermione. Harry looked one way, Ginny the other. "Now where did they go?" Harry asked, exasperated. "Do you see them?"
"No… maybe they went down that way," said Ginny. She pulled a face. "If the Muggles weren't around, we could send a patronus."
Wind whipped his cloak about, and he pushed it down. "We can try it…" Luckily, Ottery St. Catchpole was not a large village.
They were halfway back across, walking with cloaks whipping about them, hands in the air, when the wind came, moaning faintly over the church and the gravestones just ahead of them. Lightning flashed again, thunder roared, just as it had a few minutes previous. But this time, the heavens opened with one great crack, and rain dashed down, soaking them within seconds.
His hand went first to his wand.
"Muggles, Harry!" Ginny shouted at him.
"Okay," he shouted back at her, "then we have to run!"
"Hurry!" Harry grabbed her hand again, pulling her along.
"I guess those weirdo cloaks don't come with umbrellas," someone jeered.
"OI! You live in Britain, mate, where's your umbrella?!"
Ginny ignored the shouting all around them, laughing under her breath as Harry dove between Muggles, leading her straight to St. Catchpole's church, which lay long and low like a beast ahead of them. As they pelted through the small graveyard, the skies opened in earnest, soaking her to the skin within seconds, stifling her laughter, making her tuck her head down and speed along. It was another minute before they hopped the wrought iron fence. A sharp tug pulled her backward.
"Harry!"
"I've got you," he said, already disentangling the hem of her cloak from where it was caught on the twisted metal. "Just a moment… Got it!" Rain cascaded down his face. His hair was plastered to his head; for once, not sticking up in all directions.
It was slippery on the smooth stone tile of the stairs. Two statues of green men glared down at them as they scurried by, making it to the carven oak doors just as a clap of thunder shook them.
"Alohamora," Harry muttered.
The two doors fell open. Harry's hand was at her back, pressing her forward, and then – the doors shut, and they were alone in St. Catchpole's most famous location.
"We've got to get you dry," said Harry, loudly. He cleared his throat. "Er, sorry," he said in a much more normal volume. "We do have to get you dry, though."
"How funny," Ginny murmured. "You're not usually—" But she clamped her teeth down on her tongue, hard, before what she was about to say escaped her. It was all well and good to tease him about his wand. Ginny! She scolded herself.
"What am I not usually?" Harry asked.
Getting me dry, but rather the opposite.
"So quick to pull out your wand," Ginny said weakly.
To her relief, he did not appear to notice her own gaff, but his cheeks flushed at her tease. That, Ginny realized, had been a mistake as well… perhaps not a mistake, but with him standing so close to her, hand gentle on her shoulder, rain drops gathered on his eyelashes, giving him a rather more, well, beautiful look than he normally had, her mind stretched to something rather more intimate than him helping her dry off.
"You and your… wands," Harry muttered.
"I'm not in possession of one, actually," said Ginny.
His gaze sharpened on hers.
"I left mine at the Burrow," she said, with a wink.
His nostrils flared. "Right," he muttered.
"I'm not supposed to use it," said Ginny, as the water lifted from her cloak and whisked into a tiny waterspout that rushed out through the closed window to join with the rest of the rain. "Not yet, anyway. Not until I've got the all clear."
"I should have thought to bring an umbrella," said Harry.
"I should have thought to bring an umbrella." Ginny said, lips twitching. "Those blokes out there thought we were nutters."
"Yes, well," said Harry. Was it her imagination, or was his wand sliding down her arm in a way that was not entirely friendly? "I was the one who grew up with Muggles, I ought to have…"
Ginny touched his upper arm, letting her hand linger. Her hair was drying in increments. "Another thing to blame yourself for?" she asked.
A little breath escaped him. "I suppose I shouldn't," he said. "Not for something so minor, anyway. I should save it for the big stuff, you know, like my moment of distraction six months ago."
It might have been the way they were standing, situated so closely together, or the somber atmosphere of the church, which was rather larger on the inside than it was the outside. It might have been the darkness, too, and the shadows that clung to the carved ceiling above them, carved with all manner of religious folk peering at them, listening to what they said. Despite this – or perhaps because of it – Ginny knew exactly what she wanted to say.
"You may have been distracted," said Ginny, having not put this into words before and was quite nervous to do so. "But I was not. I was exactly where I wanted to be: In between you, and a curse that very well would have killed you since you did not have your own protection."
He was gaping at her. Her gaze dropped to his lips, which were parted, then back up to his expression, which had fallen into something she could not quite read. "Ginny," he said on a sigh, so low that she barely heard him over the rain slashing against the church. "I never wanted anyone to ever have to take another curse for me."
Ginny shrugged. "And I couldn't have borne it if you died." She forced her tone into something jauntier, unnerved by the flutterbies winging about in her stomach. Her heart was beating rather fast, and she finally pulled away, moving further into the solemn silence, catching her hand on the dark pews, pushing herself closer to the nave. "I've got to sit," she called over her shoulder.
It was nearly a minute after she'd slid into a pew up in the middle before she heard his slight footsteps behind her. He'd taken the time to dry his own self, and when he flopped down beside her, he smelled of woodsmoke and herbs. Drawing in a breath, Ginny smiled.
"I can't remember the last time I was in a church," said Harry.
"Hmm," said Ginny. "Me either."
"The Muggles I grew up with weren't the sort," said Harry. "There was a church in town, but it wasn't like this. It was all blocky and painted the color of a turnip and all the gangs gathered on the street corner just beside it."
"We didn't go either."
"My parents are buried next to a church," said Harry, "and they've got scripture on their gravestones… I've wondered lately if my mum was, you know, religious."
"Some witches and wizards are," said Ginny.
"I think it would've been weird for me," said Harry. He stretched out his arms along the back of the pew, brushing her back as he did, and setting the flutterbies in motion again. "Dunno if I can imagine believe in… all this."
"Careful," said Ginny, smirking, "maybe you'll get cursed for talking like that in here."
He pinched her shoulder lightly, huffing out a breath. "Oh, that is rich coming from you. You were the one just on about wands. If anyone is getting some sort of religious nutter wizard riled, it's you."
This got a laugh out of her. "I'm not the one who comes into their house and says their magic is spotty."
"I didn't—"
"I dreamed the other day that you were invited to join the Holyhead Harpies."
This cut him off midsentence. "I think I would've liked to play professional Quidditch," he said, voice a low rumble. "But there's a bit of—"
A loud bang interrupted whatever he was about to say, which needled Ginny. It further needled her to hear her brother's voice caroming jauntily around the otherwise silent church. A comment about the rain, the thunder, and the carvings followed in quick succession, while Ginny exchanged a long, lingering glance with Harry, who gave his head a slight shake just as he turned away from her and toward Ron. A low groan escaped her. How had he found them? They weren't hiding or anything in there, but…
"Guess who told us she might've seen you come in here?" Ron asked. Then, without waiting for either one of them to reply: "It's Luna! Luna's here. Hermione's conjured a few umbrellas, so it's good to come out…"
"Well—"
"And I'm starving, Hermione's getting a table for us at one of the Muggle places, and come on, let's go."
Ginny followed behind her brother and Harry, glancing up and around at the carvings in the detailed ceiling. There was one religious fellow carved from a stone pillar that had his hands stretched wide and appeared to be carrying the weight of the whole church upon his back. He seemed to glower at her, as though he had sensed the excitement and the flutterbies in her lower belly and disapproved of it. There was a shadow in his eye that made her feel open to his viewing and he did not like what he saw.
"And what do you know?" Ginny mumbled.
Outside, thunder rolled, and she went out into it, bracing herself under the umbrella Ron thrust into her hand.
"Did you say something, Ginny?" Harry asked.
"No…" she said. "Nothing at all."
"Let's go," moaned Ron. "I'm starving."
The weather was slightly more hospitable after that first rushing downpour, but Harry was still careful to keep close to Ginny, to prevent her from tripping over a stone. When she had first been cursed, there had been a very real chance she could blow away in a breeze; this was more of a gale, but she held strong, barely grimacing at all, grabbing onto his arm only once.
"Oh, is this it?" Harry asked, when Ron gestured forward. It was the same pub outside of which they had stood before running across the street.
"Yeah, Hermione thought shepherd's pie sounded good," said Ron. "Me, I was hoping for fish and chips…"
"Oh, please," said Ginny. "You'll eat anything. And enjoy everything."
"I am easy-going like that," Ron said, smug.
When he pulled the door open, a blast of music silenced all of them. As they made their way into the pub, Harry thought it was just as dark and shadowy as the church, but had more bodies crammed into it. Hermione waved to them, gesturing them toward a wooden booth with a tattered plaid cushion. The table was carved on the edges: patrons had whittled their own names into it, some of them sloppily, as though done while drunk.
"Reminds me of the Hog's Head," Ron announced.
There was a bit of maneuvering as they slid onto the bench. A little shaft of disappointment went through him when Luna slid in right after him and Ginny followed. There at the church… there had been a moment – more than a few – when he'd wanted to forget about the masquerade and just lean in and well… kiss her. But it was not one of the activities the healers had ever discussed. She needs to be totally free before we can… Harry reminded himself.
Still, he'd rather sit next to Ginny.
"So – er – Luna, how are you?" he asked.
"Oh, I'm wonderful," she said. "Daddy and I are planning a trip over the summer… He's going to study in the rainforest, and I'm going to the South American Magizoology Center for a couple of courses."
"Wow, Luna!" said Hermione, who leaned across the table and beamed. "Taking courses!"
"Why yes," said Luna. "It was Newt Scamander's idea, actually… you know, we've become quite close to him since we've been planning his party. His grandson is one of the instructors."
"Blimey!" said Ron. "South America!"
A weary, harried looking waitress paused by their table. "I'll get you drinks, but you order and pay up at the bar." Harry blinked, and she was gone again, swerving to miss another group who had just come in.
"D'you all know what you want?" Ron asked. "I can go—"
"I'll do it," said Luna.
"I don't mind, I'm at the outside…" said Ginny.
"We're in a Muggle pub," Hermione said. "I don't think any of you have ever even used Muggle money, have you?"
"Oh," said Ron, smile slipping off his face. "Right. That was one task you never had me do when we were living in that tent…"
"I've got some—"
But Harry cut off Hermione. "I'll do it!" he said, with great enthusiasm, having seen an opportunity. "I'll go up and order, I want to…"
Hermione gaped at him a little. "All right…" she said. "Do you have money?"
"I… no," Harry admitted.
She muttered something under her breath, but pulled out several bills and passed them to Harry, while the others laughed at the 'paper money'. He listened dutifully to their orders, and went to the front. Behind the bar were hundreds and hundreds of miniature Royal Navy flags; he scanned them while waiting for the grumpy-looking barkeep to amble over his way. Minutes ticked by; his neck began to itch, wishing he'd allowed Hermione to do this after all… Still, he managed to bite his tongue on a "Finally!" when he was finally able to place his order.
"Thanks, sir," Harry said to the barkeep, when he finally paid.
"Get on wit' ye," the barkeep grumbled, after he'd handed Harry back his change. "Bessie will be right ou' wit yer grub."
Harry rushed back, and slid into the booth; once seated, an inexplicable urge to grin overtook him, and it took him several seconds before he realized Hermione and Luna were in a rather fierce argument.
"Daddy says—"
"But there is no such thing as a Salty-Feathered Roc," said Hermione, jutting her chin out.
"What's going on?" Harry whispered to Ginny.
Ginny tapped her chin, turning to him, eyes shining. "Luna's just been telling us how her dad's planning to make Newt Scamander's party memorable," she said in a low voice. Her breath feathered against his cheek. "They're bringing some fantastic beasts to show off."
Harry chuckled. The more he thought about it, the more humorous it was, and his chuckle evolved into a laugh. Ginny was nodding at him. There, between them, was a strange, knowing type energy that remained even when the waitress came and dropped off their food. It was there as they ate. It had been a good plan, after all, to maneuver around so that he was sitting beside her instead of Luna. Their knees touched, as did their elbows, and Harry found himself in a constant state of warmth. There was a certain lightness about it… a lightness he had not felt in quite some time, if ever.
It was at the end of the meal when Harry pushed aside his plate. Hermione was back at the discussion with Luna, explaining in lofty tones how some of the creatures Xeno Lovegood was bringing up to Hogwarts simply were not real.
"Real or not," Luna said calmly, "Daddy is bringing them."
"And I can't wait," said Harry, beaming around the table. "I really can't wait."
HPHPHPHPHPHPHP
Author's Note:
I realize that if I'd been planning properly, I'd be posting the masquerade itself on Halloween, but... not everyone can be a planner! Some of us are just scraping by. LOL. I really enjoy writing quiet, friendly moments like that took place in the church... I hope you enjoyed, too.
Happy Halloween!