MIXED MESSAGES
Part 1
"Time to get up, dear," a voice said in a loud whisper next to Ginny
Weasley's ear. Ginny rolled over and groaned. It couldn't be time to get up. It
was only – she checked her clock – 6:00 in the morning! And yet the clock was
still speaking in her ear – "Come on, dearie, you set me earlier this morning,
remember?"
Ginny racked her sleepy, protesting brain. For a moment she couldn't
remember why she'd set her alarm clock at that ungodly hour, and she scoured
her mind for a reason. Suddenly, it hit her – oddly enough, like a bolt of
lightening (a/n: cheesy, I know): Harry was arriving with Ron and Dad
from the Dursley's at seven, and she wanted to look nice when he got there –
not like a sleepy, tousled kid who could barely keep her eyes open.
Ginny sighed and rolled out of bed. Her clock said cheerily, "That's
the spirit, dear!" She hit the clock with her pillow and walked out into the
hallway.
Ginny yawned and stumbled to the bathroom. On her way down the stairs,
she tripped over one of Fred and George's blasted trick wands, which, activated
by her touch, began to wiggle and laugh hysterically as though being tickled.
Not in the mood for a laugh, Ginny aimed a kick at the wand and instead kicked
the baseboard. Hopping up and down on one leg, Ginny stifled a yelp of pain and
made her way to the bathroom. "Ohhh, curse Fred and George," she whispered as
her toe began to swell. "What a perfect start to my day." Still grumbling, she
took a quick shower and changed into a pale blue tank top and her favorite pair
of old jean shorts. Her good mood rebuilt itself at the thought of Harry being
at the house soon. Ginny hummed to herself as she brushed her hair and went
down to the kitchen, still without shoes. She noticed with satisfaction that
her Gilda's EverChanging Toenail Polish was blue today, and matched her top. 'Something's
going my way today,' she thought, and smiled. She held onto her smile all the
way downstairs.
Ginny dug through the cupboard in the kitchen for a bag of flour and
opened the refrigerator (a recent acquisition of her father's) to look for some
eggs. 'It would be nice for the family to wake up to freshly-made pancakes,'
she thought to herself. A tiny voice in the back of her head said, 'Showing off
your cooking skills for Harry, eh?' "Well, maybe," Ginny spoke aloud, grinning
softly to herself. She put a pot on the stove and quickly started a pot of hot
chocolate brewing.
"Maybe what?" said George, yawning, shuffling into the kitchen.
"Oh, nothing," Ginny said quickly. "You're up early, aren't you?"
"There was a particularly enticing smell drifting up from the
kitchen," George explained. "I believe it's known as 'pancakes.'"
Ginny laughed. "You've got it," she said. By now, she had poured some
of the batter onto the griddle and was beginning to set the table. "What do you
think: blueberry, apple cinnamon, or chocolate chip?" she questioned, gesturing
to the pancakes.
"All three," came Fred and George's simultaneous voices. George
swiveled in his chair. "Morning, brother," he said. "Did Gin's cooking wake
you, too?"
"I can't resist the smell of sizzling calories," Fred quipped,
collapsing into a chair. "What's the occasion?"
"It's nothing special," Ginny said quickly, dropping chocolate chips
and blueberries into the circles of batter. She stirred the hot chocolate,
retrieved three mugs from the pantry, and poured each of them a cupful.
"Of course not," George agreed innocently. "It's only a coincidence
that a certain green-eyed, dark-haired heartthrob is going to be walking
through our door in 30 minutes," he added slyly. Ginny blushed furiously. Fred
snorted into his mug of hot chocolate, then pretended it was a sneeze and tried
to cover it up with a cough.
"They'll all be hungry," Ginny said, lazily watching the pancakes from
her chair and flipping them occasionally with her wand. "And besides, you know
all he gets is rubbish at that horrible aunt and uncle's house of his."
The pancakes done, Ginny got up and started a new batch. She placed
the first on a plate to cool. "Fred, set out silverware," she instructed. "Be
useful."
"Oh, my back!" Fred cried dramatically. "A sudden, shooting pain."
"I'll help you, Gin," said George, standing up. He shoved Fred as he
made his way over to the cutlery drawer. "You are so pathetic."
"Hey!" cried Fred mockingly. "You are further damaging a severely
injured man!" Ginny and George chose to ignore this comment.
Around twenty minutes later, the table was sinking under the weight of
all the food Ginny had prepared. Still, though, her guest of honor hadn't
arrived. All the Weasleys (minus Ron and Arthur) were seated around the table,
uncertain whether or not to dig in. Finally, just as Molly was saying, "Well,
kids, go ahead, I guess they're not coming…"a noise startled the family.
The front door could be heard opening in the hall. Her heart
hammering, Ginny rose and followed the others to the tiny foyer, where Harry
was setting down his trunk.
"Welcome back, Harry!" cried her mother rapturously. Ginny smiled;
Molly just about considered Harry her own son. Harry shook hands with Fred,
George, and Percy and gave a quick hug to Mrs. Weasley, who squeezed him back
so hard Ginny was sure Harry's eyes were either going to pop out or he would
suffocate. When Harry reached the end of the line, Ginny, expecting a smile or
maybe a nod, was bowled over when Harry said warmly, "Hi, Gin!" and gave her a
small hug, too. Too dumbfounded to speak or even return the hug (what kind
of a moron was she?!), Ginny could only stare back into those bright green
eyes after Harry had pulled back. "How are you?" he asked her easily.
"F-fine, I guess," Ginny stammered. Harry grinned and headed down the
hall to the kitchen, saying, "Boy, am I glad you guys came this morning –
another couple days and I might've starved. Guess what I had for diner last
night – half a tomato and a piece of lettuce. Can you believe Dudley's still on
the diet? You should've seen him when he came home for holiday. He looked like
he'd do anything for even a Ton-Tongue Toffee…" his voice faded. Ginny remained
in the hall, struck dumb. Had Harry just – hugged her? Had he just called her 'Gin'?
She couldn't believe it – she closed her own eyes and envisioned Harry's. The
jet green-ness…Harry sure wasn't discouraging her hopes for the two of
them by going around hugging her and smiling at her!
Ginny shook her head and, glancing around wildly, realized that the
entire family had left her for the pancakes and she was the only person still
standing in the hallway. She sprinted down the corridor and dropped into her
chair. Her mother shot her a quizzical look and started in on "Ginny, darling,
what - ?" but stopped at a fierce glare from her daughter and a look in her
eyes that said "let it go, mum." Molly decided to let it go. It was probably a
wise choice. Ginny smiled sweetly at Harry, serenely picked up her fork and
took a bite of a blueberry pancake.
"Aren't these pancakes just dee-lish?" George said in a
much-too-sugary voice. Ginny shot him a warning look.
"Extraordinary," Fred commented approvingly, winking at George mutiple
times. Ginny felt that all-too-familiar feeling in the pit of her stomach – the
"Fred-and-George-are-plotting-something" feeling. "And you know," Fred
continued, "They were prepared by our very own sister…"
"…You know her, you love her…" George chimed in.
"…Ginny Weasley!" Fred cupped his hands around his mouth and made the
sound of a stadium full of screams. George whooped and chanted "Ginn-eee,
Ginn-eee, Ginn-eee…"
Ginny felt all the blood in her body rush to her face. 'I'm going to
die,' she thought wildly, 'just DIE if Harry laughs.' Her wonderful twin
brothers, seemingly oblivious to Ginny's ripe tomato impression, prattled on.
"I just adore a woman that can cook, don't you, Harry?" George asked,
poking delicately at a chocolate chip on his plate, giving Harry a wicked,
pointed stare.
"A woman with talents is the best kind of woman," Fred intoned.
Harry looked acutely embarrassed. Ginny wondered if he wanted to crawl
under the table and die, like her. She had given up on stopping the freight
train that was Fred and George and by this time had her head in her hands,
shaking it slowly back and forth.
Suddenly, miraculously, Harry saved her. "I think Ginny's a great
cook," he said softly. "And I'm glad she fixed breakfast for all of us this
morning. It was a nice surprise." His voice was like a rope reaching out to
her, pulling her back to the circle.
Ginny looked up, amazed at what she was hearing. Harry was staring
intently at her; his gaze unsettled Ginny and she could only manage to stare
back for a few seconds before looking down and poking at her pancake. Fred and
George looked crushed. Ginny grinned and chanced a glance at Harry again. He
was still looking at her. "Gonna wash the dishes," Ginny mumbled
self-consciously and started collecting plates and cutlery from the people
already finished eating. Harry smiled at her as he handed her his plate. Ginny
rushed to the kitchen and put the plates in the sink, her heart beating like
some kind of out-of-control drum. What was going on? Was Harry just
showing common courtesy and kindness (something he would do), or was it
something bigger? Ginny flicked her wand at the dishtowel and it began wiping
plates. Ginny decided to leave her mum to the dishwashing – after all, she'd
cooked breakfast – and headed up the staircase. On the level which Ron's room
was on, Ginny heard voices and couldn't help but linger on the stair, hoping to
catch a snatch of the conversation. She could hear Ron, telling Harry about his
summer and Harry responding. Then she heard Ron say, "About breakfast – you
were nice to cover for Ginny down there."
Ginny inched closer to the door. She knew it was wrong, but…well, they
were talking about her! She prayed Harry wouldn't say something about "oh,
she's just a kid, I felt bad…" and held her breath.
"Fred and George were being kind of cruel, putting me and her on the
spot like that," Harry said. "I could tell she was embarrassed, so I just put a
stop to it. I hope I didn't upset her. Next thing I knew she'd disappeared."
"Upset her!" Ron hooted. "She was looking at you like you were some
knight in shining armor come to rescue her! Didn't you see the look she gave
you?"
"No," Harry said, "I guess I wasn't looking."
But that was a lie, Ginny realized, because Harry had been looking at
her the whole time…Harry was still talking. She jolted back to the present.
"She's grown up a lot," he said softly. "She seems a lot more mature."
"Well, she's not as bouncy this summer," Ron said carelessly. Bouncy!
Ginny thought to herself, seething. I'll show you bouncy, boy, just wait
'til I get my hands on you… Ginny crept away up to her room and flopped
back onto her bed, a huge grin coming on her face. His words and actions
vibrated throughout her brain. Lots more mature. So grown up. A hug. A smile.
"I don't know what's going on, Harry," she whispered, "but I intend to
find out."
Part 2
"So, Harry, what do you want to do?" Ron asked Harry as they headed
down the stairs to go outside. "We could play a game of Exploding Snap, or
maybe play some Quidditch in the orchard…" He looked at Harry expectantly.
Suddenly, Harry slammed his palm to his forehead. "I'm such an idiot!"
he moaned, and then turned and catapulted himself furiously back up the stairs,
taking them two at a time. Fred and George flattened themselves against the
wall to watch him zoom by.
"What's gotten into him?" Ginny said, wide-eyed.
"No idea," replied Ron, who looked equally mystified. Harry's voice
came loudly down the stairs. "Fred, George, give me a hand, will you? I need to
bring my trunk back down – I brought something for you!"
Fred and George looked at each other, then shrugged and tore up the
stairs. Ron followed, not far behind, and Ginny tried to keep up.
10 minutes later, Harry's trunk was back in the main room, and he was
digging through it, haphazardly throwing out spellbooks and robes. After a few
minutes of digging, it seemed as though he'd found what he was searching for.
"Look," he cried triumphantly, pulling up a lopsided, rather nasty
burlap bag. Ginny and the rest of the Weasley children stared as Harry eagerly
opened the sack and started removing different sized balls of different colors
and weight. Ron scratched his head and cleared his throat, then said, "Harry –
this is what you made us drag your trunk down from the attic for? A bunch of
old playground balls?"
"No, no - you don't get it," Harry said impatiently. "I was cleaning
out the Dursley's attic and I found all this old stuff of Dudley's – " Harry
made a face that usually accompanied the word 'Dudley' – it was something of a
pained grimace crossed with a disgusted loathing factor – " – and I opened this
bag and found all this muggle sports equipment. It's kind of old…came from that
point in time – may I say very brief point – when Dudley was interested
in any kind of physical activity besides chasing me." Harry grinned ruefully.
"But the stuff - you know, basketballs, volleyballs, tennis rackets and balls…"
Harry faded off, realizing that, by the look on every Weasley's face, he might
as well be speaking Mermish. "THE POINT IS," he continued, looking a bit
disgruntled by now, "all this stuff – couldn't it be enchanted to fly, or
something? A Hovering Charm – maybe crossed with, I dunno, a Magnet Factor or
something that would make it chase people?"
Ron still looked skeptical. "But why in the world would anyone want
some vol-ball – "
"Volleyball," Harry interrupted.
"Yeah, whatever – why would you want that to chase you? I mean, if you
couldn't dodge it, it'd be like getting hit with a bludger…" Ron faded off as
he saw the look on both twins' faces. Ginny got the impression a light bulb had
been turned on behind the identical eyes. Ron stared. Fred and George stared at
each other as though seeing each other's thoughts, then suddenly turned as one
and stared at Harry. Harry nodded, the beginning of a smile forming on his
face. Fred let out a strangled sound and looked at Ron, who was still,
amazingly, clueless. (A/N – have you figured it out yet?) He voiced his
question. "I still don't get what it is that you three are giving each other
bloody physic looks for…it's just some muggle stuff – "
"Oh, Ron, don't show off your ignorance!" George yelled, rolling his
eyes with a big grin on his face from Harry's surprise. It gave him somewhat of
a madman look. "We can't play real Quidditch here, not without some equipment,
right?"
"Right, but this is muggle stuff, not – "
"You great stupid silly bloody potato, we can TURN this STUFF into
QUIDDITCH stuff! How hard did you get dropped on your head when you were a
baby?" Fred exploded. "It's simple enough, like Harry said – Hovering Charms on
the lot of it and maybe some Attraction Curse on the Bludgers, too. Now we can
play REAL Quidditch in the field! Oh, wait, is it not broken down enough for
you still? Let's make it slower – " Fred stepped up to Ron and put his hands on
his shoulders, speaking very slowly and clearly –
" – Real….Quidditch….In….The…. Field….With….Harry's…"
"Okay, okay," Ron said hastily, taking Fred's hands off of his
shoulders, "I get it now. But we still don't have enough brooms – or people,
for that matter. What do you have to say about that, O Genius Brother?"
Fred looked stumped. Ron looked smug. Suddenly, Ginny had an idea. She
spoke up. "Well, let's see…we've got you, Harry, Fred, George, me…"
"YOU'RE going to play?" Ron said, laughing. "I didn't even know you
could fly a broom, Gin!"
"There's lots of things I can do that you don't know about," Ginny
shot back at him. Ron still wasn't forgiven for badmouthing her behind her back
in his room. Ginny, surprised as anyone at her own daring, blushed crimson.
Harry hid a smile behind his hand. Fred snorted with laughter yet again and
gave Ginny a discreet low-five behind her back, while George whispered loudly
in her ear, "You give it to him, sister." Ginny ignored George's comment
(though accepted the low-five) and continued with her list.
"And then there's Charlie, Bill, and maybe Percy…and Hermione!" Ginny
said excitedly. "I forgot she was coming in tomorrow!"
"Other things on your mind this morning, huh, Ginny?" said George
slyly in her ear. Ginny held her head high and continued loftily: "Anyway,
that's…umm…"
"Mental math was never her thing," Fred commented, looking at the
ceiling.
"Nine," Ginny said, narrowing her eyes and pinning Fred with a evil
stare. Then, as an afterthought, she added, "That's an uneven number."
"Congratulations, Ginny," said George enthusiastically. "You're our
chosen winner of the Math Genius Award! Fred, tell her what she's won!" He
rolled his eyes.
Harry, however, seemed to understand Ginny's point. "She's right," he
said, frowning at George. "We can't play with 5 and 4. We need someone else, to
make it even."
"Well, I don't know how we're going to get anyone, unless we use Dad
or Mum or something," she Ron, shrugging. Fred gave him a disbelieving look.
"Mum? On a BROOM? The only time Mum ever touches a broom is to SWEEP,"
he said pointedly.
"And Dad…" George shook his head, his eyes raised to the heavens.
"Words just can't express how wrong that'd be."
"Well, what do you propose?" Ron said icily. "I'm sure you have the
perfect solution."
"I think a good solution would be kicking you right in the – "
"Guys," Ginny said loudly, "you're getting off subject, here…come on…"
"Oh, all right," said George grudgingly. He looked longingly at Ron.
"Can't we just knock him around a little?" he asked Ginny hopefully.
"No," she replied firmly. Honestly, she thought, these boys are
getting nuttier every day…
"If you beat him up," Harry said, grinning, "then we'll have to get
TWO people to play Quidditch." George saw the insane logic in this and
desisted. Fred cleared his throat.
"I, my brothers, sister, and friend," he said grandly, "have come up
with the perfect solution. Mum hasn't let me and George have a friend to stay
in AGES, and if we ask she nearly has to say yes, because, let's face it – with
Ron having two friends, it would hardly be fair for her to say no to George's
and mine's request for ONE, correct?"
"Correct," George said promptly. "Continue."
"So, one possible solution is for George and I to have a friend over,
who can play Quidditch, or at least knows the rules, and isn't a complete
idiot; in other words, George and I can put up with him for at least a week
without feeling the need to, oh, I don't know, sabotage his room or anything."
"Of course," George said, grinning.
"And therefore," Fred finished pompously, "the perfect solution is to
invite Lee."
"Oh, bravo!" George cried, clapping enthusiastically. "All 10s from
the panel of judges for the quickest perfectly thought out plan!"
"Well, guess it's settled, then," Harry said, packing up the equipment
and tossing the bag to Ron (who looked extremely put out). "Your mum will
almost definitely let you have Lee, and Hermione will be here tomorrow – can
Lee get here by then?"
Fred frowned. "Don't know," he said, furrowing his eyebrows. "George
and I'll owl him soon as we ask Mum – I don't think he lives too far, but if he
comes the Floo way it'll be easy for him to get here."
"Okay!" said Ginny. "And Hermione can enchant the stuff once she gets
here, right?"
"If Hermione can't, I guess we could ask Dad to," Ron mused. "But I'd
be willing to bet your Firebolt, Harry, that she knows how," he added, rolling
his eyes. Fred and George laughed and headed off to badger Molly – excuse me, I
meant politely request – about having Lee over.
Ginny felt a little shiver of anticipation. She suddenly wondered if
this was how Harry felt before a big match – except multiply her nerves by 10,
or 20, or something. She shuddered slightly - she didn't think she could handle
the responsibility of playing Quidditch for her House. Ginny could fly fairly
well, considering; after all, she did have a big brother who was an
extraordinarily fabulous Quidditch player. Maybe she'd inherited something –
but that was ridiculous, you didn't inherit things from brothers. Ginny
remembered her first flying lesson with Madam Hooch – how much fun she'd had!
Playing Quidditch should be a real treat…maybe she'd even be on Harry's team!
But what if she did something abysmally foolish like dropping the Quaffle – or
even worse, fell off her broom? She chanced a half-glance his way and saw with
surprise that he was looking back at her in the same way. A little voice in the
back of Ginny's head was screaming, GO TALK TO HIM! Not yet, Ginny
answered herself, at the match…that's when I'll make a move. She smiled and
gracefully glided out of the room, a tiny smile playing across her mouth. You
don't know what you're in for, Harry, she thought, narrowing her eyes. Quidditch,
here I come.
