Disclaimer - much belongs to JKR, including Harry's socks! Hope you enjoy, and PLEASE keep reviewing. I love to hear what you think.
Massive addition made to Chapter 13 for those of you who haven't seen it yet. It looks like the author alert has broken for this story - not sure what is going on but I hope they fix it soon - if you're really desperate I could email you directly, but otherwise I'd suggest checking back every 5 to 6 days, as I seem to take that long to write a chapter.
For those who have asked the quotations appearing at the beginning of the chapters now are keeping pace with Ginny's Muggle poetry obsession, and have a little to do with the plot as well!
***
"Laugh and be merry, remember, better the world with a song…
Laugh, for the time is brief, a thread the length of a span."
John Masefield
Christmas
Harry lay in blissful stupor; neither awake nor fully asleep. The warmth of his bed enveloped him, as he relished in the luxury of the morning, drifting hazily through wispy clouds of dreams. The image of Ginny vaguely flitted through his head, and he smiled drowsily to himself. Suddenly, without any warning whatsoever, a large squashy pillow whizzed through the air and hit him full in the face causing him to yell.
"Whassit?" he muttered foggily, propping himself onto his elbow and blinking in bewilderment at this rude awakening.
"Wake up you lazy git," he heard Ron's cheerful tones bouncing through the room, far, far too exuberantly for that hour of the morning.
"Ron," he groaned, collapsing and burying his head back under the blankets. "Go 'way. You're never up at this time. Let me sleep."
"Harry!" Ron's voice sounded exasperated this time and his second missile impacted on Harry's stomach. "If you weren't up for half the night playing chess with Ginny, it wouldn't be a problem. C'mon. Wakey wakey!"
Harry moaned wearily, but reached out a sleepy hand for his glasses. He knew Ron well enough to realise that he wasn't going to give up without a fight, and besides, with Neville, Dean and Seamus gone for the holidays he had a lot more pillows to use as ammunition as well.
"What?" he said in irritation, yawning widely and stretching. "At the very least I hope it's the castle burning down."
"Look!" Ron grinned happily. "It's Christmas! Presents!"
Sure enough, a small pile of brightly coloured packages straggled across the foot of Harry's bed, so he hauled himself to a sitting position.
"I hate it when you're cheerful in the mornings," Harry remarked, smiling broadly at his friend. "Remind me to organise some Quidditch sessions at unbearably early hours next term."
Ron took no notice as he was far too busy ploughing through the mound of gifts by his feet. He picked up an instantly recognisable lumpy parcel in both his hands and pulled a face at Harry.
"Maroon jumper?" Harry asked, smothering a grin.
"Could be," he laughed, and ripped the wrapping away, to reveal the truth of the matter. "I don't know why Mum gives me maroon; she knows I hate it. I mean, it must be bad, even Ginny won't pinch it." He sighed tragically, but perked up as he saw the sweets his mother had also included for him. "What did she send you, Harry?" He peered over and saw Harry opening a box of fudge and an emerald green sweater. "Ah!" said Ron, wisely. He mimicked his mother: "I thought it would bring out the colour of your eyes, Harry dear." His voice was muffled suddenly as Harry's pillow hit him forcibly in the face, knocking him sideways.
Shreds of wrapping paper soon lay strewn across the bed as Harry discovered the treasures that lay beneath; a book of Quidditch tactics from Hermione, and Ron had given him a large supply of chocolate frogs and Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. There was a batch of homemade toffee from Hagrid, guaranteed to clamp his jaw together for hours on end, and even the Dursley's had surpassed themselves by sending him a milk bottle top. Harry shook his head at this, and turned his attention to the final two presents.
Tearing through the bright purple covering of the small rectangular parcel, Harry stopped abruptly and stared down at the gift in surprise. A heavy wooden frame surrounded a certain wizard photograph that Colin Creevey had taken two nights earlier at the Christmas Ball. A grin spread across his face as he watched the figures in it. Ginny was smiling impishly up at his photographed self, standing on tiptoes to whisper in his ear. He saw his own expression change from curiosity to laughter as he hugged her tightly, both of their faces glowing with pleasure. She really did look beautiful in her dress robes, Harry reflected as he gazed at her, seeing her hair smoothed into that elegant knot studded with starlight as the tiny image moved excitedly around the photograph. All the same, he had to admit he had more of a penchant for the day-to-day wildness of her flowing red hair, cascading around her and reflecting her every mood.
A little parchment note fluttered out of the parcel, and Harry recognised Ginny's deceptively neat and precise script immediately as he picked it up.
Harry,
Thanks for not minding the recent resurrection of your fan club!
Hope you like this photo as much as I do.
See you for breakfast?
Love,
Ginny
He propped the photo up on his bedside cabinet, grinning still, and picked up the final parcel, which he reasoned must be from Sirius. It fitted neatly into the palm of his hand, extending along his outstretched fingers, but was so incredibly heavy he almost dropped it in surprise. Unwrapping it carefully, he saw it glinting in the weak rays of winter morning sunshine. It appeared to be some form of quartz-like rock, strata just visible through the opaqueness of its layers. One surface was entirely smooth, and shone like polished glass, and the rest was as jagged as if it had just been hewn out of the ground by dwarves.
"What's that?" Ron asked curiously, wandering across to Harry's bed for a closer look. Harry shook his head and shrugged.
"No idea," he said blankly. "It weighs an absolute ton though! Hang on! There's a letter with it." He unrolled the note and scanned through it quickly, his confusion fading a little. "It's from Sirius," he explained to Ron. "He's been hiding at Lupin's and they found this in some old school stuff belonging to my dad." He glanced back at the parchment from his Godfather, and read aloud. "'We thought you'd like to have it, but you'll have to work out what it does for yourself. I would say try not to get up to too much mischief with it, but we did. So I'll just say, try not to get caught!'"
He exchanged glances with Ron and they burst into laughter.
"Sounds promising," Ron said. "Come on. What are you waiting for? Let's get dressed and ask Hermione. She usually knows about stuff like this."
***
Ginny was toasting her toes beside the common room fire when Harry and Ron crashed into the otherwise empty room. She glanced up briefly from the parchment she was writing on and grinned across at the pair of them.
"Thanks for the presents," she said cheerfully. "Nice jumper, Ron. It really suits you." Her brother glared at her, balefully, and she giggled.
"Where's Hermione when we need her?" Ron asked, impatiently peering up the girls' stairwell. "Ginny, go and get her for us."
"And what did your last slave die of?" she retorted, dipping her quill back into the ink bottle. "Do it yourself. I'm busy."
Ron opened his mouth, to point out the obvious reason why he couldn't go and get Hermione, then he changed his mind. With a furtive glance to make sure no one was around, he disappeared into the shadows to find her.
"What are you up to?" Harry asked, dropping into the chair opposite her and enjoying the warmth of the fire beating against his legs.
"Waiting for the scream when Hermione finds Ron heading into her room," Ginny chuckled. "Actually, I'm writing a letter to everyone at home. Charlie's back there for Christmas as well, you know. Then I was planning on a spot of Fred and George baiting to pass the time between now and breakfast. They don't really know what's going on between us yet, so I reckon they'll be easy to wind up today." She nodded down at her socks, eyes twinkling wickedly, and when Harry saw her feet he burst out into laughter.
"Thanks for the present," he said at last. "I really liked it."
"I liked mine too," she said shyly, blushing slightly. "I wasn't expecting anything from you."
"I had to get Hermione to help me choose it," Harry confessed, thinking about the hair clip. "With a bit of luck it'll stop you setting your hair on fire again."
A loud shriek suddenly reverberated down the stairwell and around the common room, breaking through their conversation. A few seconds later, Ron hastily reappeared looking rather red in the face but extremely pleased with himself.
"She's on her way," he grinned, sighing and flopping down lazily in the chair beside Ginny. Then he sat up sharply and frowned at his sister's feet.
"Ginny," he said slowly. "Are you wearing Harry's socks?"
She regarded her feet thoughtfully, examining the distinctively mismatched socks; one bright red with a pattern of broomsticks on it, the other green with a design of snitches.
"You know, Ron," she said seriously. "I think I am."
Hermione darted into the common room looking even more flushed than Ron.
"What did you think you were doing?" she yelled furiously at him.
"We needed to talk to you," Ron replied, the anger rising in his own voice. "How else was I meant to get hold of you?"
"Has no one ever told you to knock on doors first?" she screamed.
"Oh yes," Ginny nodded vehemently in answer to this question. "Believe me, he's been told."
"Hermione," Ron raged, shooting a furious glare at his sister. "It's not like you were getting changed or anything. What's the problem?"
"What do you mean, what's the problem?" she exploded. "I never wander into your room like that!"
"Actually," said Harry slowly. "I seem to remember that you have. It was that time in the second year, wasn't it? I'm pretty sure you just barged in and woke us up."
"That was different," she snapped defensively, blushing a little more. "It was important, because the polyjuice potion was ready."
"Well, this is important," grinned Ron, his temper subsiding as he watched the conflicting emotions crossing Hermione's face. "We need your superior brain for this one."
"What is it then?" Hermione sighed heavily and sat down with the others. "Honestly, Ron. I could murder you sometimes."
Harry produced the present from Sirius and explained what little they knew of the stone. Both girls stared at it intently. Hermione shook her head.
"I've no idea," she said. "Stones are used for all sorts of magical purposes, but I'm sure it must be in one of the books around here somewhere. I'll have a look in the library after breakfast."
"Excellent," Ginny whispered softly to no one in particular, as she saw her twin brothers bound into the room. She bent her head over her parchment again. Her quill scratched quietly away, and Harry watched in amusement, marvelling at the completely deadpan expression on her face.
"Morning!" Fred said jovially. "Nice jumper, Ron."
"Shut up!" Ron retorted, grinning at Fred's bright yellow sweater. "I can see we're not going to lose you in the dark."
"Fair point," he laughed. Then he glanced round the room and continued his teasing. "George did all right though. The blue's not so bad…and I see Harry's got one to go with his eyes again."
"What did Mum give you this year, Gin?" George asked, seeing his sister entirely devoid of Weasley knitwear.
"Dad managed to get his hands on a book of Muggle poems through work," she said, casually propping her feet up on the low table in front of her. "They sent that for me. Lots of toffee and the usual sort of stuff." There was a pause and a sharp intake of breath from both twins, entirely in unison.
"Ginny!" Fred exclaimed in absolute horror.
"It's not…They can't be…" George stammered.
"They are," Ron interjected in a resigned tone.
"Are what?" Hermione asked, looking completely bewildered by the conversation.
"Ginny! You can't wear Harry's socks," Fred said in outrage, looking anxiously at his sister.
"Why ever not?" she responded innocently, her angelic expression making Harry squirm in his chair with silent laughter.
"Well, they're… they're Harry's" George explained.
"Yes," she said patiently. "And they're very nice socks. They're warm, and…woolly!" She caught Harry's eye and he choked with laughter, swiftly turning it into a coughing fit.
"But, he's not your brother," Fred faltered, staring incredulously at her.
"I had realised that," Ginny said gravely, biting her lip.
"Look, Ginny," George tried again. "You can't go pinching just anyone's clothes. We only put up with it because it's you."
"I think that's why Harry does too," Ron added, beginning to chuckle himself. "He never lets me steal his socks."
"I should think not!" Harry spluttered.
"It's because he's not my brother that I've got his socks," Ginny said, finally dissolving into fits of giggles, despite her best efforts.
"What?" Fred yelled, realisation suddenly dawning on him. "You mean…? No!"
Ginny lay back in her chair, tears of laughter streaming down her face as she watched Fred and George wrestling with the concept of their little sister dating Harry Potter.
"Seriously, Gin?" George asked.
"Yes!" she gasped, wiping the tears from her eyes. "You'll have to get used to it, that's all."
"You can't go out with her, Harry," George said, making Harry's heart plummet suddenly. Then he added, "She'll drive you completely insane. You'll never have any clothes. Believe me, nothing is safe as far as Ginny is concerned."
"I'm not that bad," she objected vociferously.
"Oh yes you are," all three of her brothers asserted in unison.
"I think I can cope," Harry grinned, as Ginny beamed back at him. She wriggled her way onto the arm of his chair and reached for his hand.
"No!" Fred grimaced, averting his gaze dramatically and pretending to vomit. "Put him down! I can't cope with that before breakfast!"
***
The day passed quickly and in much good cheer. Harry was relieved to see that Fred and George weren't at all perturbed by Ginny's revelation, although there was a fair bit of teasing going on from both sides. The festivities of Christmas lunch flowed into a massive snowball fight on the lawns that afternoon. Ginny ran swiftly, hair flowing down her back in a wave of sunlight, through the powdery whiteness of the snow trying desperately to escape, but to no avail. Fred and George seized the opportunity to make her pay for her mischief that morning, and she eventually staggered breathlessly away from the barrage of bewitched snowballs that had been chasing her, dripping wet and very pink in the face, with her hair straggling all over the place.
As twilight settled gently around the six laughing figures, they trudged back into the castle and back to the Gryffindor common room, trailing puddles of water from their frozen feet behind them. Ginny sat on the floor by the fire, leaning against Harry's legs as she dried her sodden hair in the warmth of the hearth. Fred and George disappeared up to their dormitory to work on some new magical joke, they were referring to as 'Blasting Beetle Eyes.'
"Guaranteed to liven up Potions lessons," Fred explained with a wink.
Ron set up the chessboard, and Hermione curled into the chair beside him, to pit their wits against Harry and Ginny. A warm drowsiness flooded through them all after their out door exertions, and in combination with the happy sensation of being too full of Christmas pudding, they passed a very pleasant evening arguing about manoeuvres in the chess game.
"Checkmate," Ron said, at last, his bishop scurrying forward at his behest and seizing the crown from the vanquished white king.
"Time for bed," Hermione yawned sleepily. "I think it must be all the fresh air. I'll try the library again tomorrow, Harry. One of those books must have that stone in it. See you all in the morning." She leaned over and kissed Ron goodnight, before extracting herself from the chair they shared and heading up to her room.
"Sleep sounds good," Ron stretched wearily in his chair, and gathered his chessmen together. "You coming up, Harry?"
"In a few minutes." Harry grinned at Ginny, making her blush. Ron saw the glance, and chuckled softly, before disappearing up the stairs himself.
"So?" she said, smiling at him as he slid down onto the floor beside her.
"I've been dying to do this all day," he whispered, kissing her gently.
"Harry," she remarked quietly, sliding her arms around him. "I think I might know what that stone is."
"You do?" He pulled back and looked at her in complete astonishment.
"I think so," she chewed her lip. "When you showed it to us this morning, I thought I'd seen one before. I've been wondering about it all day, and I reckon I have. I must have been about eight, and Mum was pretty ill for a while, so Dad took Ron and me into work with him at the Ministry. Fred and George must've just come here, I suppose, because I can't remember them being there. Can you imagine the havoc they'd have caused let loose in the Ministry of Magic offices?" She giggled.
"Go on," he prompted, caressing her hair gently in his hand.
"Anyway," she continued, smiling softly at him. "I ended up in this tiny cupboard of an office belonging to someone in the next department along from Dad's. She was called Mrs Zladovitch, or something like that, and she was part of the Department of Magical Predictions. She had one, and I remember playing with it."
"Can you remember how it works?" Harry asked eagerly.
"Go and get it," she nodded at him, eyes alight with anticipation. "If it is what I think it is, you'll want your invisibility cloak as well."