Disclaimer: I usually write a disclaimer just to get myself started…

                                                                                                             CHAPTER THREE

   The water was cool, tranquil, and an almost opaque silver-green. It seemed the birds of paradise had gathered on the lush green trees surrounding the spring. Warm warbles, flowing and golden, filled the area with more magic. He could glimpse the obscured pulsing body of the colorful bird from between the leaves, and from the branch a magnificent tail drooped, its gold and peach reflection wavering in a frenzy upon the tiny ripples of water.

  The place smelled like…cinnamon and saffron. He breathed in deeply, almost reeled as the fragrance drained his brain of all thought.

  When he opened his eyes, he knew the reason he'd come to this place. A head was breaking through the surface of the spring, disrupting its smoothness. A shiny dark head.

  His senses tingled then went completely and pleasantly numb.

  A graceful woman rose before him stopping just before torso slipped into lower body. A thick curtain of lustrous dark cinnamon curls swayed against a milk white back, still shining with wetness.

  He reached out. He wanted to touch her but she was too far away, in the heart of the spring.

  The water sprite turned her head to the left at the sound of his movement. He saw the delicate apple of her cheek, steeped in rose, her small pointed nose, the fan of very dark, very provocative, eyelashes, just before she raised her gaze, saw him, and gave him a wounding look that killed, a look that he would have savored and died for again and again.

  It was Ginny.

*   *   * 

  The next morning was the morning Mrs. Weasley decided was best for a trip to Diagon Alley. The sky was slightly cloudy, meaning that the sun would be a lot more merciful while they were shopping, and there were only a few days left to September the first, anyway.

  Harry was in a better mood this morning, for he had woken up to a noisy pillow fight between Fred and Ron, which had Hedwig hooting about the terrible waste of feathers. Fred had accidentally swung the pillow in Harry's face and almost toppled over him.

  When he showed up in the kitchen for breakfast, Ginny's heart spilled right into her bowl of fruit salad. His hair was sticking out every which where like thick black needles, his eyes were large and a haunting green that made her see the color even when she wasn't looking at him, but most of all, that stupid grin he'd plastered on his face that had her grinning goofily back.

  "Hurry up and eat, Harry. We'll be leaving in fifteen minutes." Said Mrs. Weasley, rushing to iron her husband's robe.

  Just then, watching him absently ladling some fruit salad into his bowl, she remembered the love song she had composed in her mind that Ron had made her forget while they were out in the meadow. Every single rising note, every single falling one, and all the jumbled words which had aligned themselves through it of their own accord.

  When he looked up at her, she was gazing at him, eyes wide and shining with triumph, dancing with song, and cheeks smudged with color.

  He was truly enchanted.

  "Do you like the sight of me eating fruit salad?"

  I like the sight of you all the time. Just shut up and eat.

  Her cheeks warmed up with more color. She got up without answering to take her bowl to the sink, then returned to clear up more dishes. "No. I just wanted a second helping but you took the last bit."

  He frowned.

  Liar. Wanting a second helping doesn't have you looking at me like that.

  "You can have it, if you want it." he offered and pushed the bowl towards her.

  "That's very generous of you Mr. Potter, but you haven't eaten." 

  By the time Ginny had stacked the dirty dishes in the sink and washed her hands, Fred showed up wearing a striped sweater and mismatched shoes.

  "Hey, there's no food here to feed a hungry person! Harry, I'm sorry, my lad, but you look like a good candidate for my stomach."

  "What are you, a cannibal?" Harry protested, his mouth full of fruit.

  "Fred, here's some bread, and there's some strawberry jam in the cellar." She told him, "Get it yourself." She added when she predicted he was going to sweet talk her into getting it for him.

  Fred sighed and scratched his head. "We have a cellar?"

  "How hard did Ron whack you with that pillow?" asked Harry, tuning in his seat.

  When he turned around again, Ginny had disappeared. He sighed. He wanted to keep watching her move about in that pretty way.

  It was out the backdoor she went. The floaty breeze brushed nonchalantly past her face and stirred her hair. She closed her eyes, concentrating every fiber in her on the soft creamy touch of it. When she opened them again, the home she knew and loved before her, looked back, beckoning her to be that redheaded gypsy of a child again, and to run upon chubby little feet to chase the poor jackrabbits.

  Then an unwanted intruder broke into her sentimental thoughts. What if what she felt for Harry wasn't real? What if it disappeared, left her empty, as soon as she had him?

  *   *   *

  When the Weasleys and Harry arrived at the Leaky Cauldron's fireplace, via floo powder, all head heads seemed to turn and stare. Such large crowds, especially redheaded ones with the boy who lived accompanying them, was not an everyday spectacle. Harry could hear chairs screeching on the wooden floor as hags with pipes in their mouths turned to be beady-eyed busybodies. The bartender rushed forward, stumbling on the tables in his way, to offer Messrs and Mrs. Weasley a nice hearty drink, his face aglow that the customers were increasing.

  "No thank you, Tim, not now anyway. We might stop by later, Robert and I. The family here wants to do some shopping. Hogwarts necessities, you know."

  "Of course, of course. I'll keep yer favorite seats reserved for ye, Aurthur." Said the bartender, as if refusing to take no for an answer.

   They left the discomfort and the smokiness of the Leaky Cauldron and into the mild golden sunlight gracing the winding and twisting lanes of Daigon Alley. Harry was sure he never saw the same thing twice in Daigon Alley. He'd been going there for seven years now and it was still bafflement to him.

  Ginny was eager to sprout her wings as soon as possible and get moving. But the business of withdrawing money from the Weasley account hampered the itching for release. She wanted to start exploring, to start seeing, to get away. A funny little fantasy occurred to her but she considered shaking it away, disposing of it like all the rest of the pesky unwanted fantasies. What if she got Harry a birthday present? Umm…A late birthday present. It would really surprise him. He'd never gotten a birthday present from her.

  But, strange enough, she decided to go for it.

  Mrs. Weasley, Ron, Ginny, and Harry stood in an impossible line inside Gringotts. The goblins seemed especially busy today, they were snapping and snarling at everyone to share their patience. Ginny wanted to scream. A glaring Goblin, coolly I must say, took off his minute round glasses and wiped them carefully with a silk handkerchief while his customer tapped his fingers at the counter. That's what triggered Ginny's rebellion.

  "Mum, it's stuffy in here. I'll just go outside and sit on the steps, s'that ok with you?"

  "Of course dear, Ron why don't you go with her if you don't want to stand and wait. Harry has to go to his vault."

  Ron wrapped a nonchalant arm around Ginny and walked her out.

  Half an hour later, all parties met in a coffee shop, a cozy little place where there were coffee flavors made of things you've heard of and things you've never. The first thing Ginny's eyes saw as she went in was a neat girl of seventeen in a baby blue cardigan and mini skirt. She had shiny sleek honey colored hair, a rosy face, a thin frame, and was sitting so lady-like on an armchair with her coffee, a small book opened on her lap.

  "Hermione!"

  The girl looked up. Beautiful serene blue-gray orbs shone with delight at the sight of Ginny (A/N: DO NOT put a mental note to write that Hermione had brown eyes in your review! I know what Rowling said.)

  Hermione daintily put her book and coffee mug on the table, sprung up and spread her arms out to hug Ginny.

  What could a man do but stand and appreciate two beautiful girls, so full of life, hugging each other? Harry looked at Ron. He seemed to be thinking along those lines too.

  When they broke apart, Hermione bounced to hug Harry and Ron.

  "I've missed you guys! But that's nothing new is it?"

  "No it's not." Said Ron, "And we missed you too." He added pointedly.

  Hermione rolled her eyes. "Well, as Ginny seemed happier to see me than you two were, I'll just start shopping with her."

  Ginny laughed, rich and bubbly, like a baby fountain. At least that's how Harry heard it.

  "That's right. I'm going to take my best friend here and have some fun."

  "She's our best friend, Ginny" said Ron and stuck a tongue at her.

  Hermione put a hand on her mouth. "Oh! You're fighting over me. That's so sweet!"

  "Shut up, Hermione. Don't rub it in." Harry jumped in, but already, obvious affection for her swept over his features.

  They agreed on a meeting time with Mrs. Weasley, shouted their goodbyes, and scurried off like eager squirrels after the acorns.

*  *  *

  The lively group of four branched off into two couples. Ron and Harry made their annual visit to the Quidditch supply store, a place the girls weren't really interested in. Ginny and Hermione went to Flourish and Blotts.

  The place was very crowded and the store keeper looked like he needed a rough back massage after hauling heavy books about for everyone. Taking pity on him, both Ginny and Hermione decided to look for their books themselves.

  It was somewhere in a secluded isle, looking for the arithmancy book Hermione needed, that she chattered on about some family reunion the Grangers had in the holidays.

  "There were so many people I couldn't keep track of all them. Aunty Clarisse kept moaning about how it could have been the last Granger Reunion. Like we'd go through some family massacre or something!"

  Hermione laughed then sighed. "Aunty Clarisse is always mopey."

  Ginny crossed her arms at her chest and cocked her head. Hers was a knowing smile of a friend who understood the things unsaid.

  "You had a terrible time, didn't you?"

  Hermione's eyes twinkled up at her. "Yeah"

  She found her book. It was incredibly dusty, so she irately blew on it and was attacked by a bout of sneezing.

  "Stupid bookshop! Don't they dust their books?" she complained while rubbing the tears out of her eyes.

  "A insult to books, eh? Here let me take that." Offered Ginny.

  She took it and carefully angled it so that the dust would be blown away from both their noses.

  Hermione smiled. "Thanks. You look tired."

  "What do you mean?"

  "You're not just tired. You're also waiting."

  "Did you hook up with Professor Trelawney again, Hermione?" asked Ginny, half serious, as she shook the remaining dust from her pretty green robes.

  Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'm serious."

  "How do you know I'm tired and waiting?"

  "I can sense it."

  "Through your…magical skills, or your unfailing intuition?"

  "Both" said Hermione, tossing her hair and flashing her a grin.

  "Well, tired and waiting, Hermione? I mean, come on, that's something a single thirty year old woman with a nasty job would be!"

  They went about searching for the rest of their books, roamed the isles to fill the linen sacks they accumulated at the entrance with the books required for their curriculum.

  "You're waiting for Harry." Hermione said, matter-of-factly.

  "Actually I was, but as he doesn't seem to be waiting for me, I decided I'll just grab the next man and leave him and his pace alone!"

  "Ginny." Hermione put her hand on Ginny's arm, "Sweetie, you're not an eleven year old anymore and he's not twelve."

  "Apparently he doesn't seem to notice, does he? How can you be best friends with someone so slow?"

  Hermione laughed. "I love it when you pick out his faults when you know you have nothing else to do but fondle over him!"

  The look on Ginny's face, after she's said that made her heart break twice. It was so sad and hurt.

  A simple comment like that made her heart pick up its pace, and wonderful images of him racing through her love-struck mind.

  Before she knew it she was sniffling in Hermione's arms. A good thing it was they were alone in that section of the shop.

  "Hermione?"

  "hmm?"

  "Are you tired and waiting?"

  "No. A relationship's the last thing on my mind right now."

  Ginny pulled her self apart from her and looked at her, scrutinizing.

  "You know what? People who wait get it last and people who think they don't want it get it when they least expect it and as soon as possible."

  "That's just in romance novels, Ginny."

  "Oh really? We'll have to see won't we?"

*    *    *

The sight and thrill of differently flavored people rushing past both she and Hermione managed to cheer her up and remind her that she had Diagon Alley all to herself.

  Each whiff of scent was savored, every bubble of laughter, all the inarticulate babble, was appreciated. Ginny felt herself smile.

  "That's better, now, isn't it? You just needed to get out of the dusty library." Said Hermione, linking her arm with hers, as best she could with the shopping she was loaded with.

  "Sometimes it's just you who needs to go in it!" Ginny replied slyly.

  Just the air of the place, the way everyone around her did their shopping, the way it made her realized that all of these people had lives of their own, miseries to cope with, and joys to share with family, thrilled her, and filled her with wonder. And most of, all these people didn't seem to notice her or what she was doing.

  One of the songs she'd written popped into her head and she found herself humming it. It was so right for the place she was in, even if the words didn't really match.

Oh, my life…is changing everyday. In every possible way

And oh, my dreams…it's  never quite as is seems. Never quite as it seems

I know I've felt like this before. And now I'm feeling it even more…because it came from you

And then I open up and see, the person falling here is me…a different way to be.  

  "What are you humming?"

  "Oh…just some song."

  "It's beautiful." Hermione said thoughtfully, as she looked at the display of quills,    "Who sings it?"

  "Just some witch."

  Hermione looked at her and gave her a sardonic look. But, nevertheless, she shrugged.

  They moved on to the next shop, with Ginny considering telling her best friend about her songs.

   Maybe she could, someday sell her songs to a record company and make a life out of it. It was obviously something she enjoyed, and the gold she'd be getting out of it would be considerable. But she still wasn't ready now of course. Someday. A fuzzy, twinkly, tickle of anticipation fluttered in her guts.

  I want more…impossible to ignore. Impossible to ignore.

 And they'll come true…impossible not to do. Impossible not to do

And now I tell you openly, you have my heart so don't hurt me…you're what I couldn't find

A totally amazing mind, so understanding and so kind…you're everything to me

 

  On their enjoyable shopping journey, they met a few Hogwarts friends on the path. Parvati Patil looking very sophisticated and polished, and her best friend Lavender Brown with curious beads and crescent moons hanging down her neck, bangles with moonstones shining at her thin wrists.

  It was strange how two people with completely different ways of thinking could get along so well. Parvati was a known Gryffindor vixen who always flaunted red rouged lips with a ravishing way of handling young men, while Lavender was eerie and whispery, a much younger, more beautiful, Professor Trelawney. One thing they shared, however, was their impossible penchant for clothes, even if their tastes did rather differ.

  Pink faced and puffing from the exercise, Neville Longbottom gave them a cheery Hello from the other end of the street and cast Ginny a special glance, which Ginny winced inwardly at, but forced a nod and a grin.

  She suddenly wished they could meet up with Harry and Ron. She didn't want other boys, especially poor Neville Longbottom, looking at her that way.

  "Hermione, why don't we go in there? I want to get Harry a birthday gift." She whispered urgently when Parvati and Lavender left, leaving a clear field for shy Neville to arrive upon.

  "A birthday gift? But it's too la_"

  But she was already being dragged into the quaint antique shop just around the corner that didn't really seem to be a place where Ginny could get something for Harry.

  Ten minutes later, nevertheless, Ginny walked out with a triumphant smile and a small paper bag swinging jauntily at her elbow. Hermione came out behind her, relieved feelings with an impatient shake of the head before she looked her friend in the face and smiled in congratulation.

  "Isn't it a beautiful day?" Ginny declared, opened her arms wide as if to embrace it.

  "Didn't I get Harry a gift would be the right way to say that"

  "Well I am happy I got him something, even if he doesn't deserve it."

  Hermione stopped walking. Ginny looked back.

  "What?"

  "Harry deserves everything that would make him happy. His life is not as jolly as everyone seems to think."

  A pang of some kind attacked her heart. Did Hermione have to say that? Did she think she didn't know that? Didn't she know that it was part of the reasons she loved him, that she wanted so much to be the person who soothed his hurts?

  "I know." She replied simply and softly. And Hermione understood.

  Oh, my life…is changing everyday, in every possible way.

 And oh, my dreams...it's never quite as is seems. 'cause you're a dream to me. A dream to me…

*   *   *

  That night, after a very enjoyable dinner of Mrs. Weasley's tasteful cooking, everyone wished Uncle Robert a happy birthday.

  It was a rather funny affair. Uncle Robert shied down, his head under the table.

  "God send the demons to remind you when you young 'uns are all forty!"

  "Aw come now Uncle Robert, it can't be that bad!" said George.

  "Yeah, I mean, Dad didn't take it like that when he turned forty!" chimed in Fred.

  Mr. Weasley cleared his throat and pushed his peas around the plate like they were the most interesting things in the world. Mrs. Weasleys glared at him.

  "He took it worse." She stated, simply, leaving the conclusions to be formed the way they liked in her children's heads. (A/N: No! Nothing like that! Just some heinous drinking)

  Still chuckling at the elder Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's affairs, Harry took his hot chocolate and was prepared to join the family in the living room, but he glimpsed Ginny sitting on the backdoor steps through the hazy screen. A weird magnetic force pulled at him, suddenly all thoughts of playing poker with Ron erased from his mind, and thoughts of looking at Ginny's dewy fawn-colored eyes replaced them.

  Ginny didn't hear the backdoor being opened then closed again with a tiny click. She was already a part of the fantasy world she had built around her with the power of imagination, and it startled her to come back to the solid world she had been born in when she turned and found the object of her desire sitting right next to her.

  "Brought you a cup." He said, smiling softly.

  She looked at him hesitantly, wondering why on Earth, before she took it, more to warm her little hands on it.

  "Thank you."

  Harry wanted to gaze and gaze at her, but it was somehow forbidden. He felt he had no right to. But still temptation beckoned and he followed.

  She wasn't glamorously beautiful, that was for sure. But there was a subtle rightness about the way that artfully spiraled curl fell on her creamy cheek. There was a calm velveteen beauty about the way her flower-bud like lips, feminine and rosy, rested upon the rim of the cup as her eyes surveyed every blade of grass pouring onto the bottom of the stone steps.

  He wanted to brush his hand down her arm, or to catch that curl between his fingers and unfurl it, anything that would make her look at him in the way he wished she would.

  What a damn fool he was! He really had gone and fallen in love with her! And if that didn't make him a fool he didn't know what would.

   He did was sigh exasperatedly.

  "What's wrong?" she asked, in genuine concern.

  "Nothing."

  I want to touch you. That's what's wrong.

  "Yeah, I'll try to believe that." She said, smiling a little.

  He smiled back.

  "What in the world_" she whispered.

  An owl, her owl, was swooping down with a great beat of wings and landed on Harry's shoulder.

  "What are you doing here little fellow?" Harry cooed.

  The owl, without blinking an eye, dropped a letter on Harry's lap, then flew back to…Ginny's windowsill.

  Harry turned to look at Ginny and to tease her about her silly bird but apparently she was rendered speechless. She was staring at the letter on his lap like it was a huge scaly snake.

  "You!" she hissed, with an accusing finger pointed at him.

  "W-what did I do this time?"

  "You! It was you!" she hissed again. Then she softened up. "It was you?"

  "What are you_"

  Comprehension dawned on him. His fingers fumbled with the envelope, wrenched the letter out of it, unfolded it clumsily.

  His eyes roved between the first two lines and then he looked up. He pointed at the letter…then at her.

  She nodded.

  "OH" he said, deeply.

  They stared at each other for no longer than two seconds, child bewilderment on both their faces.

  Harry laughed first. "Cool!" he said.

  "Yeah, isn't it?"
  The excitement of it died down and they both leaned back on the door to look up at the starry sky, which was clear and sharp.

  "You know what I thought when I first saw you this time?"

  She was alert now, for sure. She looked at him and shook her head.

  "I thought, she's the Weasley!"

  "Lucky me!"

  She wanted to growl. But she hid her disgust as she set her now unwanted cup of perfectly good hot chocolate on the step beside her.

  "No, really."

  "Thanks, Harry. Was that supposed to be a compliment?"

  "Yes!" He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, "I mean, you have a great sense of humor, you've a kind heart, you have a delicious temper, and…well… I think if anything happened to this family, you'd stick up for it the most."

  It wasn't exactly what she was looking for, but it was what she was given and it did rather please her to hear something like that about her.

  "Thanks, Harry." She laughed, "If I keep saying thanks to you, it's going to wear me out! I think it's your turn to say thanks to me."

  "Alright. But you have to do something for me first."

  "I already did. I got you a birthday gift. Bit too late, I know, but_"

  "You got me a birthday gift? You've never gotten me a birthday gift."

  "Well I just started now."

  "Thank you."

  She lifted her eyes and gazed through his. She wanted so much to know what was in there, hidden behind the powerful green. As if acting through no will of her own, her hand slowly and gingerly lifted and took those awful glasses off.

  A powerful yearning exploded in his chest. His vision blurred but she was near enough to see clearly. He loved every freckle on her nose, the dark color outlining her amber eyes, the enticing tremble on her lips.

  He wanted to kiss her right then and there and felt that if he didn't, his whole being would shatter.

  The dim orange kitchen light was enough to bring out the kissable spots on her face, the rich tints of her hair.

  He inched his face closer and touched lips so soft and vulnerable, with his.

  Ginny tipped her head back and just let it happen. The confusing possibility of it actually happening taking over her mind and bliss had to wait.

  It was exactly that. Bliss. His mouth took over hers, warm and possessive, heart rendering.

  This would ironically be the moment she woke up, but she didn't. His kiss was becoming deeper, more intensive.

  Harry was so drunk on the taste of her, he quite forgot himself. His hand gently traced the shape of her curls, feeling their smoothness under his fevered fingers.

  Fred Weasley was strolling into the kitchen, a melodious whistle on the verge of escaping his lips, when he saw what he saw through the screen door. He grinned in appreciation and sneaked out of the kitchen, as quiet as a cat, looking quite gleeful.

*   *   *

THE END

 

    
A/N: Do you hear the wedding bells or do you think this is temporary? Tell me what you guys think…