CHAPTER ELEVEN

Bacon and Egg - the Food of Love

Harry counted twelve chimes, so quiet he could barely hear them. A breeze was blowing in from the partially open window, Harry could feel it cooling his face delightfully. It was always hard to get to sleep on a hot, sticky night like this as a rule, not to mention with Ron's incessant snoring in the background all night long. Tonight, however, Ron was quiet as he slept, and it was not the humid atmosphere that caused Harry to lie awake staring up at the ceiling.

A pretty red-haired girl with dark, chocolate brown eyes kept homing in and out of his mind, laughing as she had all evening. Harry shut his eyes.

Stop thinking about her. Anything else, think about anything else, not her. Just go to sleep.

But he couldn't. Tossing and turning in his bed was making him even hotter, and he was sure Ron would wake up any moment if he carried on fidgeting.

Ron's little sister, he kept saying, over and over again. Ginny Weasley is Ron's little sister. She sent me a singing Valentine. She put her elbow in the butterdish. She used to really like me. Wonder if she still does. Oh, stop it, Potter.

It hardly seemed five minutes before a single chime told Harry it was one o'clock in the morning, and he was still far from sleep. He sighed frustratedly.

Look, just get up and go and get a glass of water, he told himself. Walk round the garden a few times. Anything!

Harry sat up cautiously, and peered over at Ron. He had clearly stropped himself out all afternoon, and was oblivious to everything.

The air was deliciously cool as Harry slowly raised the window to its full length and climbed out onto the stairs. His bare feet were practically sighing with relief as they sank into the dewy grass at the bottom. It suddenly occurred to him that all the doors would be locked for the night, and since he had left his wand up in Ron's room, he wasn't going to be able to get into the kitchen.

"Damn me and my tiny mind," he muttered, thrusting his hands into his pyjama pockets.

He wandered around the dark house to the little terrace at the back, lit up by the curious white flowers Mr Weasley grew up a lattice wall, which appeared to reflect the moonlight. He'd never noticed them properly until now. There were some at Hogwarts as well, he remembered, growing up the outside of Gryffindor Tower.

Yes, this is good. You're not thinking about Ginny.

Ginny. Oh, damn.

He had stopped next to the swing lounger.

Only, somebody was already sitting on it.

Somebody with dark red hair and the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen. Ginny was curled up in the far corner of the lounger in her pyjamas, an open book on her lap.

"Couldn't you sleep?" she asked. She had obviously heard him coming before he had seen her.

Form words, Potter. Speak words, don't stand here like an idiot.

"Too hot," he answered, stupidly.

"Me too," she replied, with a sweet smile. She patted the space beside her. "Pull up a cushion."

Harry forced himself to relax, leaning back against the soft padding of the lounger. If only he couldn't smell Ginny's musky perfume -

"Do you usually do this?" he asked, curiously. "Sit out alone out here in the middle of the night, I mean."

Ginny nodded. "Sometimes. It makes more sense than lying awake in bed getting hot and bothered. Besides, Hermione is a very noisy sleeper when she's tense."

"Hermione's tense?" repeated Harry in surprise.

"Mm. She won't say why, but it's got Ron's name written all over it."

"You reckon he said something to her in the treehouse?"

"Possibly. She often gets like this when they're in the middle of a fight."

Harry sighed. Sometimes he wished there wasn't so much animosity between his two best friends. He had to admit, though, occasionally it was just amusing, like the enormous row they'd had several Christmasses ago over Viktor Krum and the Yule Ball. However, walking in on Hermione crying her eyes out in a corner of the common room last year had not been a pleasant experience. Only Ron could make her cry like that.

"Everything will be all right, won't it, Harry?"

Harry looked sideways at Ginny. She was looking back at him sincerely, her eyes wide. She wasn't afraid, but something in her eyes mirrored a feeling he had often had himself ever since that fateful night after the Third Task. Not fear, not despondancy. More like a fervid desperation to do something. Anything, in fact, to make things all right again. He knew, without either of them saying anything, exactly what she meant.

"Course it will," he replied, firmly. "The Order will see to that."

"Do you remember what the Sorting Hat said the year before last?" Ginny asked, staring absently into the skies. "About us all making a united front against - him."

"I remember."

"It's what he wants, isn't it? For us all to argue amongst ourselves. It makes his life a lot easier."

Harry watched her silently for a second or two, until she turned her head to look back.

"You said it yourself earlier," he said, softly. "We're all under pressure. The Order is much better prepared since Fudge joined forces with it. That's a step in the right direction, Gin."

Ginny smiled suddenly, making something close to Harry's stomach flip over. He fidgeted uncomfortably, trying not to let his aching desire to pull her into his arms get the better of his reasoning.

"You know," she said, her velvety voice making Harry's breathing become rather difficult. "When you say it, I believe it."

Her eyes were shining. How could he ever have missed the beauty in them before? He knew he must have been staring at her like a star-struck idiot, but he couldn't stop himself.

Before he knew what had happened, Ginny was leaning against his chest, her head on his shoulder. His arms were wrapped around her body, holding her tightly to him. Her silky hair tickled his neck delightfully, and he ran his fingers through the strands that cascaded over her shoulders and back like a blanket.

Bloody hell, Potter!

He let out a long sigh.

The sweet fragrance that was unique to Ginny was so intoxicating that his brain felt fuzzy, incapable of any logical thought. He leaned back against the cushions contentedly, with Ginny curled up beside him, still wrapped in his arms. The breeze was so cool. He felt - just - perfect -

***

Harry woke up very slowly, only half aware of where he was. The typical noises to be heard in the countryside at dawn were rising and falling in volume - the peaceful clucking of chickens, birdsong, trees creaking in the wind. Harry didn't want to open his eyes. He was so comfortable he could stay where he was all day.

A movement beside him stirred his bleary mind into action. Ginny's warm body was still nestled in the crook of his arm, one of her arms around his waist.

Calm, stay calm, he told himself, urgently. No need to panic. Stay perfectly still.

Ginny stretched her limbs out, slowly opening her eyes.

Why did that have to feel so good? Harry knotted his forehead. Ron's little sister. Ginny Weasley - Ron's little sister.

"Harry!" she said, in a much steadier and less surprised tone of voice than Harry's would have been if he had got the breath to say anything with. "Is it time to get up?"

Harry smiled. "Did you sleep OK?"

"Mm," she said, dreamily, rubbing her temple gently. She looked directly at him, pushing some strands of hair behind her ear. "Thanks for staying with me."

What the heck could he say to that?

A loud thump from one of the upstairs floors and the subsequent exclamation of horror discharged Harry from having to organise his thoughts into a rational order.

"Fred! I thought I asked you NOT to do that again!"

Nobody but Mrs Weasley could bellow in a voice like that.

"It wasn't me, Mum!"

"George!"

"Hey, don't blame me either!"

"What's the matter, Molly?"

"Things lying all over the stairs again. Somebody will have a nasty accident one day, if you boys don't clear up after yourselves!"

"Why is it always us, Mum? It could just as easily be Ginny!"

Mrs Weasley snorted. "Don't go accusing your sister, now. She's much better behaved than you two are!"

"Hm. Does that include staying out all night with strange men?"

Harry's head shot up. He stared at Ginny, whose hand was over her lips in astonishment.

"WHAT?"

"Just kidding, Mum."

A resounding slap echoed around the little terrace as Mrs Weasley's palm connected sharply with part of Fred, (or was it George?). Ginny giggled.

Mrs Weasley's footsteps could be heard all the way down to the ground floor hall. The kitchen door clicked open, and at once the sounds of clinking china and rattling cutlery were audible.

"Ginny?" Fred's head popped out of a window two floors up. "Gin, what the heck are you doing down there? And more to the point, what are you doing down there with her, Harry?"

Harry could have sworn Fred was smirking.

"We weren't doing anything," Harry said, defensively. Were all Ginny's brothers going to accuse him of trying to seduce their little sister?

"You haven't been there all night by any chance, have you?" continued Fred, his eyebrows raised.

"We were talking," Ginny said, with a sigh. "It was late. We were tired. We fell asleep. And thanks for telling Mum, by the way!" She glared at him.

Fred poked his tongue out at her, waywardly. He didn't appear convinced, but he said no more. He withdrew his head, but not before giving Harry a very dubious wink.

"Sorry, Harry," said Ginny, earnestly. "They're all idiots."

Harry grinned. The sight of her standing in front of him with loose strands of messy hair framing her face, giving him that magical smile, was enough to warm every inch of his body.

"How about some breakfast before the rest of your family decides to kill me?" he asked, mischievously.

"Hm. Wise plan," she replied, just as impishly. "What do you fancy for your last meal, Harry? Bacon and eggs? Toast?"

Only then did Harry realise how hungry he was. He placed a hand over his stomach, peevishly. "How about a bit of everything?"

Ginny laughed, and playfully shoved him sideways as they wandered towards the kitchen door.

Harry grinned as he opened the door for her. There were certain advantages about this gentlemanly behaviour thing. At least he had an excuse to lean close to her in stretching round for the door handle.

"Somebody's got some manners round here," she said, teasingly. "The twins and Ron are usually total gits!"

Her face was literally centimetres away from his. He cursed himself inwardly as the heat rose to his cheeks.

"Ah! There you are!" The door was fully open, and Mrs Weasley beckoned them both in. Harry wasn't sure whether he felt relieved or resentful.

Ginny sat down in her usual place and helped herself to several slices of toast. She looked up at Harry.

"Sit down, then," she said, pointing to the chair in front of her.

Harry shook himself. He'd been staring at her again. Merlin, what an idiot!

Think about something else. Anything else. Quidditch. Hogwarts. Your birthday -

A loud crash made him jump as the heavy pewter teapot was placed in the centre of the table. Mrs Weasley faced him squarely, beaming amicably.

"Bacon or eggs, Harry?"