Treasured Reasons by TheFrogLady
(All characters are thoughts by the talented JK Rowling. I take no credit of them in any way)
Chapter 1: Of Birds That Could Sing
It was a breezy, blissful day; the kind of day that brings a smile to your face. The kind of day where you sit in front of a logged fire and drink a nice cup of hot frothy butterbeer. A day where you can sit and snuggle up with your favourite blanket and think about the upcoming holidays. It was a good day, and everyone at the Weasley household was in cheerful moods.
Arthur was hanging strands of multicolored lights around the great Weasley Christmas tree; and cursing under his breath everytime he noticed a light was burnt out. Fred and George were jumping up and down, applauding elaborately as Ginny Weasley dumped a dozen different kinds of candy onto the dark rustic coffee table in front of them. Ron Weasley was helping his mother, Molly Weasley, roll out cookie dough onto the smooth surface of the floured kitchen table. An old tin of merrily shaped cookie cutters sat beside them - jolly fat Santas, fancy wreaths, and bells - amongst others .
Christmas was fast approaching, and the Weasleys were doing all they could possibly do to make the Burrow look inviting for their two guests that would be arriving in just two days; Hermione Granger and Harry Potter. All the Weasley kids were home for the holidays, including Ron and Ginny, who had spent the past three holidays at their school - Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It was bound to be a treasured Christmas; let alone a memorable one.
Harry Potter lay on his twin sized bed; a bit snug for a boy the age of sixteen. He was staying at the Dursley's house at the moment; his ill-tempered relatives who treated Harry as if he were a fly needing to be swatted. However, at the moment, Harry didn't care about his dreaded Aunt and Uncle, let alone their piggy little pork snout of a son. Harry's eyes were closed, his hands behind his head, and he was thinking dreamily about the life outside of 4 Privet Drive.
The Weasleys were perhaps the best family he had ever come to know. Arthur and Molly were nothing less than dear to him, treating him with as much love as they gave their own kids. Harry thought about Ron, his best friend. Ron had befriended Harry the first day he had miraculously found his way onto the Hogwarts Express. He was greatful for Ron; he really was. He couldn't imagine having a more loyal friend.
Then there was Hermione Granger. Sure she was a know-it-all who kept her little nose plummeted into the most boring of books nearly every hour of the day. At first, Harry had to admit, she tended to be a little bothersome, but there's just some things that happen that tie people together as friends. Hermione was Harry's therapy. Sure Ron was understanding and listened carefully whenever Harry had troubles, but it seemed at times that Hermione could sense his troubles before he even talked about them. Her mind worked like a never-ending wristwatch and sometimes Harry could see the gadgets and springs working furiously in her mind. It was an interesting yet amazing relationship Harry had with Hermione. At time, Harry mused, it was probably one he wouldn't of survived without.
Sure Harry could hear his Uncle Vernon's harsh shouts, Aunt Petunia's scowling snarls and even his cousin Dudley's bratty outbursts, but Harry couldn't help from keeping a bolted smile on his face since he had heard word from Ron that the Weasleys wanted him to stay at The Burrow for Christmas Vacation. Usually, he would stay at school for the break, but Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic, had advised the school's headmaster, Professor Dumbledore, that three Death Eaters had escaped from a prison called Azkaban, and with dark evil wizard Lord Voldemort on the loose, there's no telling what could happen. So Harry was forced to go back to live with the Dursleys for Christmas with no doubt in his mind that it would be nothing short than the worst Christmas he'd had in six years. Now, however, things were looking promising for the young boy. Now all he had to do was sit around and wait until the day came that he could part with the Durlseys.
With a distinct pop, Arthur appeared in the Weasley's fire place. A second later, Harry.
"Harry!". The day had finally come. "You wouldn't believe what a mess it's been here getting ready for you and Hermione. I've eaten so much cookie dough making cookies the last couple of days, I could probably vomit up a few new Bludgers right now!" It was Ron, and Harry was more than glad to hear his friend's rambling that he couldn't keep from laughing.
"Ron, I don't think you should be bragging about eating mounds of cookie dough; let alone about how you baked it." Then there was George. "Glad you're here Harry. How did the Dursleys manage with you using flu powder again?" Flu powder was a sparkly kind of dust that wizards used to transport themselves from fireplace to fireplace; truly a maginificent means of transportation.
"Well without you two there, we didn't have to worry about poor Dudley's tongue expanding in any way," said Mr. Weasley, a hint of humor in his voice. Just two years ago, a group of the Weasleys had come for Harry via flu powder. The Dursleys, not knowing all the wizarding techniques, were, of course, mortified. The twins always had a knack for inventing practical wizarding jokes, and Dudley had gotten ahold of a Ton-Tongue-Toffee they had left behind. The results were astonishing and always made Harry laugh when he thought about it.
"Yeah," piped Harry. "It wasn't as eventful as last time around, but they still looked scared nontheless."
"Brilliant!" said Ron.
"Ronald Weasley, don't you talk that way about Harry's relatives." Mrs. Weasley came bustling out of the kitchen upon hearing all the commotion in the dining room. "Harry, dear. It's good to see you," she smiled, taking Harry into the infamous Mrs. Weasley hug.
"It's great to see you too, Mrs. Weasley. Thanks for inviting me here. I don't think I would have survived at the Dursley's for another week and a half."
"Oh, no thanking me, dear. It's always a pleasure to have you."
"C'mon Harry! I want to show you something upstairs," said Ron, tearing Harry out of Mrs. Weasley's embrace. "Ginny taught Pig how to whistle a Christmas Carol!" Pig was Ron's owl, named Pigwidgeon, humorously shortened to just Pig.
Fred snorted.
Ron's room looked as shabby as ever. What used to be bright orange walls were now lime green. The Chudley Cannon bedspread was now a black, lumpy comforter. Pillows of green, orange and yellow were thrown about the room. Large, wilted boxes littered half the bedroom floor, full of what looked like important looking parchments. But the most surprising feature of all was a framed photo of an old, boiled over witch with wirey, white hair.
"Ron, who's that?!" questioned Harry in surprise.
"Oh, that's Bathilda," answered Ron as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"That's ammusing Ron. I don't see you for five days, and when I do I find you've been baking cookies, whistling songs with your owl, and are falling for an old, ugly witch named Bathilda?" questioned Harry, taking a seat on Ron's bed.
Ron laughed. "Bathilda Bagshot. She's an author. Hermione's favourite." At this, Harry gave Ron a skeptical look. "She sent it to me! She said it's an original, handed down for centuries and she said she wanted me to have it."
Harry would have carried the topic further, if not for the shrill yell from downstairs.
"RON! HARRY! GET DRESSED WARM, WE'RE GOING OUT TO DINNER!" cried Mrs. Weasley.
"Out to dinner?" repeated Ron. "Since when does the family go out to dinner?"
Right then, a little head full of vibrant red hair peeked into the room.
"Since Dad got paid extra for solving the case about the knife that ate the meat when you cut with it," said Ginny as-a-matter-of-factly, smiling brightly. "Hi Harry."
"Hi Ginny. How are you?"
"Oh fine, thanks. Hope everything is going good with you. Hope the Dursley's weren't too much."
"They're always too much," said Harry.
"Right. Well, you two'd better get dressed warm. It's colder than the Antarctic out there." and with that, she left, shutting the door behind her.
"Uh oh, Harry. She's showing off her geographic knowledge. She doesn't just do that for anybody, you know."
Harry rolled his eyes and threw a pillow at Ron. "Speaking of which, when's Hermione coming?"
Ron looked afronted. "In two days, and what do you mean - `speaking of which'?"
"Nothing you need to be concerned about Ron. Honestly." said Harry. Ron and Hermione have been seeing one another for the past three months. None of the Weasleys knew about this relationship; Ron knew there would be nothing less than teasing from his older brothers and continuos questions from Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Him and Hermione both decided to keep it secret for a while.
"You know Harry. Ginny still hasn't got over her crush on you." A small smile crept on Ron's face as he said this.
"Would you cut it out? Your sister is great and everything, but I don't think I could ever see her in that way." The smile on Ron's face got bigger, making Harry even more uncomfortable. Just what was Ron playing at? This was his sister, afterall. Not wanting to further this discussion, Harry quickly changed the subject. "Where's that singing bird of yours anyway?"
"Oh." Roon looked around. "I forgot. Fred used him to send Douglas Witherly a letter. He owns some rental space over in Hogsmeade. Fred and George got a good deal and they're hoping to open their joke shop soon."
"That's great news!" exclaimed Harry. Harry had never told anybody, and he wasn't sure if Fred or George had either, but he gave them his winnings of the Triwizard Tournament from his fourth year at Hogwarts. The fact that they actually used it for Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes made Harry feel quite excited.
Dinner was turning out to be a splendid event. Harry wasn't sure just how much extra money Mr. Weasley had got from his work, but by the looks of the restaurant, it was a lot. Couples all around sat enveloped with large bottles of expensive looking wine. One end of the restaurant was an open bar, but from the looks of it, it wasn't exactly as though you could go order a pint of beer. And at one point Harry thought he heard someone in the distance order "escargo". Harry assumed that the Weasleys going out for an exquisite meal was probably a rare treat, so maybe Mr. Weasley felt like being extra generous.
"Vat can I geet for you Meester?" asked a tall, voluptuos woman. Her long blond hair cascaded silkily down her back in fashionable ringlets. She wore a revealing short, black skirt and a lacey, near to nothing top. Her make-up was somewhat frightful, making her look somewhat like an upperclass prostitute. She was quite beautiful at first glance, and after peeling his eyes away from her, Harry noticed everyone else in the room was staring just as he had been; even Mrs. Weasley. The veela-ish woman was looking straight at Mr. Weasley.
"Meester?"
"Oh. Right... well, hmm." said Mr. Weasley, clearing his throat nervously, eyeing his menu. "I'll take the Veela Parmesan. VEAL," he quickly corrected himself. Mrs. Weasley gave him a shrill stare. "A salad with romaine lettuce and Caesar dressing on the side." Mr. Wealey quickly handed her his menu and stared down at his plate, like a little boy who just got into trouble.
"For you, Ma'am?," asked the goddess to Mrs. Weasley.
"I'll take the Charbroiled Swordfish, Russet Potatoes, and a cup of the Clam Chowder," answered Mrs. Weasley in a slightly irritated tone.
"Oh, mees, lovely choice. The clams were just caught yesterday by the seamen; so creamy and thick in the soup," said the waitress in a dramatic fashion, accentuating the word `creamy'.
Ron coughed into his hand.
Mrs. Weasley rolled her eyes and handed her menu the the woman.
"And for zee twins?" she asked.
The twins both jolted their heads up, bright eyed.
"I'll have what he's having," gasped George.
"Yeah, the same," said Fred, still staring at the girl.
"Oh, o.k., so you both vant zee D'estra A'lou Vange?" she asked knowingly.
A few confused looked and the shaking of heads from Fred and George and it was Ginny's turn to order.
"I'll take the macaroni and cheese," she answered dully.
"Zee vat?"
"Macaroni and cheese," repeated Ginny
The blonde moved by Ginny, bent slightly forward so her chest was shoved directly into Ginny's face and read the menu. "Oh, that is zee Macabre ala Chesier," she corrected, standing up straight once again.
"If it's not Macaroni and Cheese, then what is it?" asked Ginny.
"Eet is a blend of Strawberriez and Chocolate. A weezard's aprhodeeziac."
"What?" asked Ginny, utterly confused.
"Nevermind Ginny, just order something simple," piped Mrs. Weasley.
"O.k. then, I will take a Caesar Salad with Garlic Bread." Ginny handed her the menu.
"And you, Meester?" she asked pointedly to Ron.
Ron eyed her for a few seconds, then slowly veered his eyes to his menu to read his entree."I will take the Sesame Chicken in Volandaise Date Sauce," he answered.
"You vant a date?" asked the girl.
"Huh?" muttered Ron, staring at the girl in disbelief. Harry looked at Ron and saw that he was blushing furiously at the ears.
"Zee Volandaise Sauce eizer comes weeth a date on it or not." she explained.
"Oh. Right.", said Ron, not quite understanding. "Uhh, sure. Thanks." Ron tried to smile, but the nervous glands were overpowering his smiling muscles by far. He handed over his menu, mouth agape.
"And you, Mee- ," she stopped abruptly upon giving Harry a good stare. Harry's body froze. `No', he thought miserably, `Please don't let her say anything about me being `Harry Potter'.
Everyone at the table looked at the girls shocked eyes, then diverted their attention to where exactly they were staring - Harry.
"Um, I'll just have the, uhh...," started Harry, breaking the awkward silence. What was this creature trying to do to him? "Baked Chicken with Asparagus," he finished. Harry offered his menu to the girl who reluctantly took it, still staring at Harry with a look of uncertainty in her eyes. Finally, after what seemed like centuries, the girl spoke.
"Vill that be all?" she aked tentatively as the clan shook their heads. " I vill bring some vater and cranberry juice for all ov you. Thank you". She slowly turned around after this, trying to keep her eyes on Harry as long as possible. Then with swing of her hair, she was gone.
"Well that certainly was interesting," said Mrs. Weasley in a grave tone. "And certainly a good example you set on all your sons and Ginny, Arthur dear." Her tone was dripping with sarcasm.
Arthur didn't respond to this; he just kept chancing dissaproving glances at his sons.
"Well, if I don't say so myself, I think the girl took a liking to Harry," George offered with a smile.
"Yeah," added Fred, finally out of his trance. "Harry, I think you should go for it. I'm sure she could teach you a few things."
"Fred Weasley, just what is that supposed to mean?!" snarled Mrs. Weasley at her sons implications. "That girl has to be at least twice as old and twice as tall as Harry!"
Ron laughed. Harry smiled. It was rather funny, actually, and Harry was glad to have something to joke about at dinner with the Weasleys. Certainly nothing could upset the wonderful aoura surrounding the dimly lit table. Nothing except a scream from a girl and the sound of glass breaking violently in the distance.
AHHH! Long chapter. PLEASE Read/Review. This is my second Fan Fic. My other one is entitled Red, Black and Restricted Love if you'd like to check it out. Anyways, hope you enjoy. Chapter 2 coming soon.
(All characters are thoughts by the talented JK Rowling. I take no credit of them in any way)
Chapter 1: Of Birds That Could Sing
It was a breezy, blissful day; the kind of day that brings a smile to your face. The kind of day where you sit in front of a logged fire and drink a nice cup of hot frothy butterbeer. A day where you can sit and snuggle up with your favourite blanket and think about the upcoming holidays. It was a good day, and everyone at the Weasley household was in cheerful moods.
Arthur was hanging strands of multicolored lights around the great Weasley Christmas tree; and cursing under his breath everytime he noticed a light was burnt out. Fred and George were jumping up and down, applauding elaborately as Ginny Weasley dumped a dozen different kinds of candy onto the dark rustic coffee table in front of them. Ron Weasley was helping his mother, Molly Weasley, roll out cookie dough onto the smooth surface of the floured kitchen table. An old tin of merrily shaped cookie cutters sat beside them - jolly fat Santas, fancy wreaths, and bells - amongst others .
Christmas was fast approaching, and the Weasleys were doing all they could possibly do to make the Burrow look inviting for their two guests that would be arriving in just two days; Hermione Granger and Harry Potter. All the Weasley kids were home for the holidays, including Ron and Ginny, who had spent the past three holidays at their school - Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It was bound to be a treasured Christmas; let alone a memorable one.
Harry Potter lay on his twin sized bed; a bit snug for a boy the age of sixteen. He was staying at the Dursley's house at the moment; his ill-tempered relatives who treated Harry as if he were a fly needing to be swatted. However, at the moment, Harry didn't care about his dreaded Aunt and Uncle, let alone their piggy little pork snout of a son. Harry's eyes were closed, his hands behind his head, and he was thinking dreamily about the life outside of 4 Privet Drive.
The Weasleys were perhaps the best family he had ever come to know. Arthur and Molly were nothing less than dear to him, treating him with as much love as they gave their own kids. Harry thought about Ron, his best friend. Ron had befriended Harry the first day he had miraculously found his way onto the Hogwarts Express. He was greatful for Ron; he really was. He couldn't imagine having a more loyal friend.
Then there was Hermione Granger. Sure she was a know-it-all who kept her little nose plummeted into the most boring of books nearly every hour of the day. At first, Harry had to admit, she tended to be a little bothersome, but there's just some things that happen that tie people together as friends. Hermione was Harry's therapy. Sure Ron was understanding and listened carefully whenever Harry had troubles, but it seemed at times that Hermione could sense his troubles before he even talked about them. Her mind worked like a never-ending wristwatch and sometimes Harry could see the gadgets and springs working furiously in her mind. It was an interesting yet amazing relationship Harry had with Hermione. At time, Harry mused, it was probably one he wouldn't of survived without.
Sure Harry could hear his Uncle Vernon's harsh shouts, Aunt Petunia's scowling snarls and even his cousin Dudley's bratty outbursts, but Harry couldn't help from keeping a bolted smile on his face since he had heard word from Ron that the Weasleys wanted him to stay at The Burrow for Christmas Vacation. Usually, he would stay at school for the break, but Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic, had advised the school's headmaster, Professor Dumbledore, that three Death Eaters had escaped from a prison called Azkaban, and with dark evil wizard Lord Voldemort on the loose, there's no telling what could happen. So Harry was forced to go back to live with the Dursleys for Christmas with no doubt in his mind that it would be nothing short than the worst Christmas he'd had in six years. Now, however, things were looking promising for the young boy. Now all he had to do was sit around and wait until the day came that he could part with the Durlseys.
With a distinct pop, Arthur appeared in the Weasley's fire place. A second later, Harry.
"Harry!". The day had finally come. "You wouldn't believe what a mess it's been here getting ready for you and Hermione. I've eaten so much cookie dough making cookies the last couple of days, I could probably vomit up a few new Bludgers right now!" It was Ron, and Harry was more than glad to hear his friend's rambling that he couldn't keep from laughing.
"Ron, I don't think you should be bragging about eating mounds of cookie dough; let alone about how you baked it." Then there was George. "Glad you're here Harry. How did the Dursleys manage with you using flu powder again?" Flu powder was a sparkly kind of dust that wizards used to transport themselves from fireplace to fireplace; truly a maginificent means of transportation.
"Well without you two there, we didn't have to worry about poor Dudley's tongue expanding in any way," said Mr. Weasley, a hint of humor in his voice. Just two years ago, a group of the Weasleys had come for Harry via flu powder. The Dursleys, not knowing all the wizarding techniques, were, of course, mortified. The twins always had a knack for inventing practical wizarding jokes, and Dudley had gotten ahold of a Ton-Tongue-Toffee they had left behind. The results were astonishing and always made Harry laugh when he thought about it.
"Yeah," piped Harry. "It wasn't as eventful as last time around, but they still looked scared nontheless."
"Brilliant!" said Ron.
"Ronald Weasley, don't you talk that way about Harry's relatives." Mrs. Weasley came bustling out of the kitchen upon hearing all the commotion in the dining room. "Harry, dear. It's good to see you," she smiled, taking Harry into the infamous Mrs. Weasley hug.
"It's great to see you too, Mrs. Weasley. Thanks for inviting me here. I don't think I would have survived at the Dursley's for another week and a half."
"Oh, no thanking me, dear. It's always a pleasure to have you."
"C'mon Harry! I want to show you something upstairs," said Ron, tearing Harry out of Mrs. Weasley's embrace. "Ginny taught Pig how to whistle a Christmas Carol!" Pig was Ron's owl, named Pigwidgeon, humorously shortened to just Pig.
Fred snorted.
Ron's room looked as shabby as ever. What used to be bright orange walls were now lime green. The Chudley Cannon bedspread was now a black, lumpy comforter. Pillows of green, orange and yellow were thrown about the room. Large, wilted boxes littered half the bedroom floor, full of what looked like important looking parchments. But the most surprising feature of all was a framed photo of an old, boiled over witch with wirey, white hair.
"Ron, who's that?!" questioned Harry in surprise.
"Oh, that's Bathilda," answered Ron as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"That's ammusing Ron. I don't see you for five days, and when I do I find you've been baking cookies, whistling songs with your owl, and are falling for an old, ugly witch named Bathilda?" questioned Harry, taking a seat on Ron's bed.
Ron laughed. "Bathilda Bagshot. She's an author. Hermione's favourite." At this, Harry gave Ron a skeptical look. "She sent it to me! She said it's an original, handed down for centuries and she said she wanted me to have it."
Harry would have carried the topic further, if not for the shrill yell from downstairs.
"RON! HARRY! GET DRESSED WARM, WE'RE GOING OUT TO DINNER!" cried Mrs. Weasley.
"Out to dinner?" repeated Ron. "Since when does the family go out to dinner?"
Right then, a little head full of vibrant red hair peeked into the room.
"Since Dad got paid extra for solving the case about the knife that ate the meat when you cut with it," said Ginny as-a-matter-of-factly, smiling brightly. "Hi Harry."
"Hi Ginny. How are you?"
"Oh fine, thanks. Hope everything is going good with you. Hope the Dursley's weren't too much."
"They're always too much," said Harry.
"Right. Well, you two'd better get dressed warm. It's colder than the Antarctic out there." and with that, she left, shutting the door behind her.
"Uh oh, Harry. She's showing off her geographic knowledge. She doesn't just do that for anybody, you know."
Harry rolled his eyes and threw a pillow at Ron. "Speaking of which, when's Hermione coming?"
Ron looked afronted. "In two days, and what do you mean - `speaking of which'?"
"Nothing you need to be concerned about Ron. Honestly." said Harry. Ron and Hermione have been seeing one another for the past three months. None of the Weasleys knew about this relationship; Ron knew there would be nothing less than teasing from his older brothers and continuos questions from Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Him and Hermione both decided to keep it secret for a while.
"You know Harry. Ginny still hasn't got over her crush on you." A small smile crept on Ron's face as he said this.
"Would you cut it out? Your sister is great and everything, but I don't think I could ever see her in that way." The smile on Ron's face got bigger, making Harry even more uncomfortable. Just what was Ron playing at? This was his sister, afterall. Not wanting to further this discussion, Harry quickly changed the subject. "Where's that singing bird of yours anyway?"
"Oh." Roon looked around. "I forgot. Fred used him to send Douglas Witherly a letter. He owns some rental space over in Hogsmeade. Fred and George got a good deal and they're hoping to open their joke shop soon."
"That's great news!" exclaimed Harry. Harry had never told anybody, and he wasn't sure if Fred or George had either, but he gave them his winnings of the Triwizard Tournament from his fourth year at Hogwarts. The fact that they actually used it for Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes made Harry feel quite excited.
Dinner was turning out to be a splendid event. Harry wasn't sure just how much extra money Mr. Weasley had got from his work, but by the looks of the restaurant, it was a lot. Couples all around sat enveloped with large bottles of expensive looking wine. One end of the restaurant was an open bar, but from the looks of it, it wasn't exactly as though you could go order a pint of beer. And at one point Harry thought he heard someone in the distance order "escargo". Harry assumed that the Weasleys going out for an exquisite meal was probably a rare treat, so maybe Mr. Weasley felt like being extra generous.
"Vat can I geet for you Meester?" asked a tall, voluptuos woman. Her long blond hair cascaded silkily down her back in fashionable ringlets. She wore a revealing short, black skirt and a lacey, near to nothing top. Her make-up was somewhat frightful, making her look somewhat like an upperclass prostitute. She was quite beautiful at first glance, and after peeling his eyes away from her, Harry noticed everyone else in the room was staring just as he had been; even Mrs. Weasley. The veela-ish woman was looking straight at Mr. Weasley.
"Meester?"
"Oh. Right... well, hmm." said Mr. Weasley, clearing his throat nervously, eyeing his menu. "I'll take the Veela Parmesan. VEAL," he quickly corrected himself. Mrs. Weasley gave him a shrill stare. "A salad with romaine lettuce and Caesar dressing on the side." Mr. Wealey quickly handed her his menu and stared down at his plate, like a little boy who just got into trouble.
"For you, Ma'am?," asked the goddess to Mrs. Weasley.
"I'll take the Charbroiled Swordfish, Russet Potatoes, and a cup of the Clam Chowder," answered Mrs. Weasley in a slightly irritated tone.
"Oh, mees, lovely choice. The clams were just caught yesterday by the seamen; so creamy and thick in the soup," said the waitress in a dramatic fashion, accentuating the word `creamy'.
Ron coughed into his hand.
Mrs. Weasley rolled her eyes and handed her menu the the woman.
"And for zee twins?" she asked.
The twins both jolted their heads up, bright eyed.
"I'll have what he's having," gasped George.
"Yeah, the same," said Fred, still staring at the girl.
"Oh, o.k., so you both vant zee D'estra A'lou Vange?" she asked knowingly.
A few confused looked and the shaking of heads from Fred and George and it was Ginny's turn to order.
"I'll take the macaroni and cheese," she answered dully.
"Zee vat?"
"Macaroni and cheese," repeated Ginny
The blonde moved by Ginny, bent slightly forward so her chest was shoved directly into Ginny's face and read the menu. "Oh, that is zee Macabre ala Chesier," she corrected, standing up straight once again.
"If it's not Macaroni and Cheese, then what is it?" asked Ginny.
"Eet is a blend of Strawberriez and Chocolate. A weezard's aprhodeeziac."
"What?" asked Ginny, utterly confused.
"Nevermind Ginny, just order something simple," piped Mrs. Weasley.
"O.k. then, I will take a Caesar Salad with Garlic Bread." Ginny handed her the menu.
"And you, Meester?" she asked pointedly to Ron.
Ron eyed her for a few seconds, then slowly veered his eyes to his menu to read his entree."I will take the Sesame Chicken in Volandaise Date Sauce," he answered.
"You vant a date?" asked the girl.
"Huh?" muttered Ron, staring at the girl in disbelief. Harry looked at Ron and saw that he was blushing furiously at the ears.
"Zee Volandaise Sauce eizer comes weeth a date on it or not." she explained.
"Oh. Right.", said Ron, not quite understanding. "Uhh, sure. Thanks." Ron tried to smile, but the nervous glands were overpowering his smiling muscles by far. He handed over his menu, mouth agape.
"And you, Mee- ," she stopped abruptly upon giving Harry a good stare. Harry's body froze. `No', he thought miserably, `Please don't let her say anything about me being `Harry Potter'.
Everyone at the table looked at the girls shocked eyes, then diverted their attention to where exactly they were staring - Harry.
"Um, I'll just have the, uhh...," started Harry, breaking the awkward silence. What was this creature trying to do to him? "Baked Chicken with Asparagus," he finished. Harry offered his menu to the girl who reluctantly took it, still staring at Harry with a look of uncertainty in her eyes. Finally, after what seemed like centuries, the girl spoke.
"Vill that be all?" she aked tentatively as the clan shook their heads. " I vill bring some vater and cranberry juice for all ov you. Thank you". She slowly turned around after this, trying to keep her eyes on Harry as long as possible. Then with swing of her hair, she was gone.
"Well that certainly was interesting," said Mrs. Weasley in a grave tone. "And certainly a good example you set on all your sons and Ginny, Arthur dear." Her tone was dripping with sarcasm.
Arthur didn't respond to this; he just kept chancing dissaproving glances at his sons.
"Well, if I don't say so myself, I think the girl took a liking to Harry," George offered with a smile.
"Yeah," added Fred, finally out of his trance. "Harry, I think you should go for it. I'm sure she could teach you a few things."
"Fred Weasley, just what is that supposed to mean?!" snarled Mrs. Weasley at her sons implications. "That girl has to be at least twice as old and twice as tall as Harry!"
Ron laughed. Harry smiled. It was rather funny, actually, and Harry was glad to have something to joke about at dinner with the Weasleys. Certainly nothing could upset the wonderful aoura surrounding the dimly lit table. Nothing except a scream from a girl and the sound of glass breaking violently in the distance.
AHHH! Long chapter. PLEASE Read/Review. This is my second Fan Fic. My other one is entitled Red, Black and Restricted Love if you'd like to check it out. Anyways, hope you enjoy. Chapter 2 coming soon.