CHAPTER TWELVE
The Black Rider and the Flaming Siren
"Harry, he's driving me CRAZY!"
Harry sighed, willing himself to stay calm. Hermione in ranting mode never failed to try his patience.
"Why doesn't he just grow up, for goodness' sake? He's acting like a stroppy little boy!"
"Hermione, I should have thought you would have realised by now after knowing the bloke inside out for six years - Ron hates to be told he's wrong."
Ginny nodded in agreement. "He's always been like that, 'Mione. He's a stubborn git at the best of times."
The three of them were sitting on the lawn in the shade of a leafy beech. Or rather, Hermione and Harry were lying sprawled out on the grass while Ginny perched on a rustic swing seat close beside them.
"Git's the word," Hermione muttered, bitterly. "All this fuss for nothing!"
"What did you say to him in the treehouse?" asked Harry, bravely.
"I told him his attitude wasn't helping anything." Harry winced, and looked up at Ginny, whose brow was furrowed in a grimace. "I know! I know!" exclaimed Hermione, desperately. "I tried, honestly I did. But he was being so objectionable!"
"That's what Ron does best," said Ginny. "You just mustn't let him get to you. If he wants to shout and yell and throw things, let him. Once he's got it out of his system, he'll be fine again."
Hermione sighed, the sense in Ginny's words obviously apparent to her. "Well, let's hope you're right," she said, dubiously.
A loud buzzing noise increasing in volume drew their attention to the yard at the front of the house. Ginny hopped off the swing and ran a few steps forward to get a better view.
"That - that's a motorbike!" she squealed, delightedly. "BILL!"
Sure enough, an enormous black object shot across the yard like a moving blur, lifting the dust into a choking cloud. A figure clad in billowing black robes vaulted agilely onto the ground. He removed his cowl to reveal a sleek ponytail of lustrous red hair. His arms opened as Ginny sped up the garden steps and flung herself into them, shrieking with elation.
"I thought you weren't coming till tomorrow!" she cried, her voice muffled in Bill's robes.
"Well, we got back yesterday, and I was bored out of my mind so I decided to make a quick trip to London and come straight here afterwards!"
"I've missed you so much!"
"Bet I've missed you more, kid." Bill's handsome features creased into a wide grin as she released him, and he kissed her smartly on the cheek. "You've grown," he said, teasingly.
"I'm not a child any more, Bill," Ginny replied, accepting his arm around her shoulders as they wandered slowly towards the house. "You don't have to say that every time you come home, you know."
Bill laughed, his eyes shining with mischief. "You have grown, though, Gin. You're gorgeous!"
Ginny smiled, and nudged him, happily.
"I bet you've got a man in your life now, haven't you?" Bill continued, playfully. "Or several, perhaps."
Ginny feigned shock. "What sort of a girl do you think I am, Bill Weasley?"
"Like I said - gorgeous. Who is he? Will I approve?"
Ginny nudged him again, with a lyrical laugh. "I wouldn't tell you even if there was someone!"
Bill viewed her suspiciously. "Hm. That means there is - "
"Oh, shut up!"
The front door clicked shut behind them, and their bright laughter carried all the way down to Harry and Hermione on the lawn.
***
Harry sat in silence while Hermione sighed and fidgeted on the grass, lost in her own thoughts. The whole reunion had left him with a dull ache inside, and all at once the incomprehensible delight at watching Ginny swing backwards and forwards on that little swing, her hair flying out behind her in a glossy mist of red, had completely disappeared.
"Do you think I'm really bad at handling him, Harry?"
"Hm?" said Harry, absently.
"Ron. Do you think I wind him up even more when he's angry?"
Are you jealous? a little voice inside Harry's head suggested, suddenly. Harry's forehead creased in a frown.
No. Bill's her brother. They've always been really close.
Jealous, I reckon.
Well you're wrong. I'm not jealous.
"Harry? Are you all right?"
"Hm? Sorry, Hermione." Harry took a deep breath to clear his head.
Hermione was looking at him earnestly, right into his eyes. A tiny smile flickered at the edge of her mouth, but she said nothing.
"I'm just - tired, I suppose."
A gentle arm draped through his. "Then let's go and get something to drink," said Hermione, softly. "That is, unless the twins and co. haven't devoured the entire kitchen already!"
Harry managed a small laugh as they made their way across the garden towards the kitchen, Hermione chattering away about his birthday party next week. All the plans were laid, and all that was required now was Charlie and his infamous 'Romanian stuff'. Slowly, Harry's spirits started to rise again as thoughts of Ginny were replaced by the exciting prospect of the week ahead.
"Tell me, 'Mione," he said, as they came up to the kitchen door. "Is there any chance that you could give me the best birthday present ever?"
"And what would that be?" asked Hermione, suspiciously.
"You and Ron talking to each other again."
She let out a long and tremulous sigh, frowning slightly at him. Harry could almost see the clash of wills going on inside her mind.
"All right," she said at last. "I'll see what I can do. But it takes two, you know!"
"Just try, that's all I ask."
The kitchen was charged with energy and animation as the door swung open, and Hermione replied in a low voice as they entered: "Oh, I'll try all right. But you might not get it until your sixty-fifth birthday, at the rate we're going at the moment."
Harry feared she was right as Ron scowled more furiously than ever as Hermione sat down at the table opposite him. She, however, ignored him completely, and proceeded to load up her plate with steaming buttered crumpets and scones.
Mrs Weasley was crashing around as usual with plates and saucepans, flicking her wand all over the place to try and keep order. Her face glowed scarlet with activity, and her hair was flying out at all angles, giving her the semblance of an overly-industrious house elf, minus the bat-like ears, of course.
"Help yourselves, everyone!" she was calling, as she frantically worked her way around the perimeter of the little kitchen, replenishing dishes and plates.
The twins were sitting at one of the far ends of the table, cackling loudly with Lee and the girls. For five people to make so much noise was nothing short of a marvel.
Angelina, Alicia and Lee had practically broken the door down one evening during a heavy summer rainstorm, and had taken up a large proportion of the kitchen table at mealtimes ever since. The twins were ten times worse now their old Gryffindor group was all together again, and shrieks of laughter and other peculiar noises were becoming more pronounced and frequent as the days went on.
"Oi! Harry!" Ron was beckoning him over to a recently vacated seat beside him. His subsequent glare at Hermione indicated that he was claiming Harry for his own for the duration of the afternoon.
Harry squeezed into the tiny space between Ron and Angelina, kicking several shins as he maneuvered his long legs over the bench and under the table.
"This is Bedlam!" Hermione remarked, her voice raised over the din.
"It's brilliant!" Harry replied, with a grin. After the confines of the attic at Number Four, Privet Drive, Bedlam was positively heavenly.
Instinctively his eyes roamed around the room for Ginny's slender figure. At the other end of the table, a striking toss of long red hair and a mellifluous trill of laughter drew his attention. Bill and Ginny sat opposite each other, deep in conversation, their heads inclined together slightly. Every now and again, Ginny would reach out and brush away a tiresome tendril of Bill's hair which kept escaping the tie that held his ponytail.
Something hard connected painfully with Harry's ankle underneath the table. He cried out in surprise. Opposite him, Hermione was watching him markedly.
"Pass the jam, Harry?" she asked, rather too sweetly to be completely natural.
He obliged, slightly shaken. Truthfully, Hermione was a subtle observer, perceiving things that everyone else was blind to. But how long would it be before the Weasley brothers noticed him staring longingly at their beautiful sister?
Ginny's musical laugh floated down to him again, and she brushed back her rippling sheet of flaming hair. What would Harry have given to be able to touch it again, like he had that night they'd spent out on the swing lounger? There was something blissfully perfect in her every move, in every syllable she uttered.
Harry was disgusted by his own sentimentality. He snorted audibly, making Ron stare at him in surprise.
"You all right?" he asked.
Harry nodded. "Fine." The thought of what Ron would do to him if he knew the reasons why Harry wasn't fine at all were truly horrifying. But he was sure to find out sooner or later. Unless of course this entire situation was just a phase.
Yes, just a phase, maybe, Harry mused, comforted slightly. I'll wake up one day soon and realise this has all been a figment of my imagination.
The back door suddenly burst open loudly, and Mr Weasley made a grand entrance.
"Afternoon, everybody!" he called, cheerfully, gazing round the kitchen.
"Come on in Arthur," said Mrs Weasley, as the strains of 'Afternoon Dad!' and 'Afternoon Mr Weasley!' faded away.
Mr Weasley beamed as he accepted a large mug of tea and a plate of muffins, oblivious to Mrs Weasley's state of nervous exhaustion.
"Good day at the Ministry, dear?" she asked, breathlessly.
"Not so bad. Perce had a nasty encounter with Dolores Umbridge at lunchtime, but we soon sorted her out, didn't we, son?" Percy, who had followed his father into the kitchen with Fleur close behind him, snorted disparagingly.
"Stupid old bat," he muttered, angrily. "Ought to be sacked, in my opinion."
Harry nudged Ron emphatically before he could open his mouth and start shouting again. Ron glared at him, but subsided with a sulky frown.
"Will you stay and have some tea, Percy?" asked Mrs Weasley.
"No thankyou," was the blunt reply. Percy stared disapprovingly at the chaos around the table. "I think I'll just take a cup of coffee up to my room and finish my paperwork."
Harry noticed Fleur sidling bewilderedly around the wall towards Mrs Weasley. As she passed behind Ginny, she stopped dead, her face breaking into a bewitching smile. Bill grinned back, his eyes twinkling. Fleur tossed her silvery hair over her shoulder flirtatiously, and continued on her journey around the table to help Mrs Weasley. Harry watched Bill following her every step with ardent interest.
Ginny caught Harry's eye at that moment. She was wearing a satisfied smile, and nodded her head towards Bill. Harry grinned. About thirty seconds later he realised that he was probably being as obvious as Bill, staring so conspicuously at Ginny in front of a tableful of people. He felt himself reddening. Really - this was becoming unbearable.
"Fred, George! Be quiet a minute, please, boys!" called Mr Weasley. "Your mother wants to say something."
Mrs Weasley took a deep breath. "I thought, as it's been such a beautiful week, we could all go up to Oberon's Well tomorrow, as Ginny suggested. How about a picnic?"
The little room erupted into acquiescent exclamations, punctuated by small squeals of delight from Ginny.
"All right, all right, calm down!" laughed Mr Weasley. "You've all got to promise to behave yourselves. Especially you two." He peered sternly over the rim of his spectacles at the twins, who immediately assumed facial expressions of the utmost probity. Nobody was fooled. "I mean it, boys. Any monkey-business and the pair of you will be mucking out the pigs for a fortnight, without wands!"
Everyone in the room noticably shuddered, particularly the Weasley boys. Presumably this threat was neither a new one nor a previously untried or tested punishment.
"Charlie will miss it!" sighed Ginny. "He's not due back till the day after tomorrow."
"Harry's party will more than make up for that, dear, I'm sure," replied Mrs Weasley. absently. She tripped over the back legs of Ron's chair which were raised off the floor, and clutched at the dresser to break her fall. "For goodness SAKE, will you PLEASE stop doing that, Ron! If I've told you once, I've told you a hundred times!" Suddenly her affable mood was broken and she glowered at her son.
"Sorry, Mum," said Ron, meekly. He caught Hermione's eye for the briefest of moments, and glowered in typical Ron style. Hermione cheerfully completed the routine by glowering back just as fiercely. Harry sighed. Never ones to bear a grudge, his two best friends. Ginny had noticed too. She shrugged slightly, dropping her eyes to her plate.
"Come on, lads, lets help your mother," suggested Mr Weasley, noting the abrupt alteration in the atmosphere with the experienced eye of a father and husband. He gestured with his arms to clear the kitchen and move outside into the sunshine.
The little room was filled with the sound of wood scraping on stone and breathy mutterings as the Weasleys and their guests ambled leisurely through the back door like children in a classroom, leaving Mr and Mrs Weasley to themselves.
Harry sauntered out with Ron, just behind Fred and George. As usual, their eyes were lit up with impish michief. Fred turned slightly as they emerged onto the patio, smiling merrily.
"This house bears a striking resemblance to a military training camp, have you noticed?"