I'm actually thinking of changing the title at some point, because the plot has got carried away and left me behind, and it wants to continue when Harry and the gang go back to Hogwarts, when the title 'At Home With The Weasleys' won't apply any more.
If I decide to change the title (which won't be for a while yet), I'll add another Author's Note in a later chapter just to let everyone know.
Right - now we're getting down to business. Hope you enjoy!!
xxx
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
At Oberon's Well
Mrs Weasley had excelled herself. By the time two o'clock came round, the table had been cleared and the grass was strewn with replete bodies lounging idly in the sun.
"This is utter bliss," observed Angelina, rearranging herself so the back of her head was leaning against Fred's stomach.
"We should do this more often, Mum," said Fred, twirling a strand of Angelina's hair casually round his finger. He shot his mother a cheeky glance.
Mrs Weasley smiled fondly.
Fred peered over to a shady patch of lawn a few yards away, where Percy sat on a hard-backed chair with his nose in a book. "OK, Perce?" he called.
Percy raised his head and frowned. "Not really, no. If I must be dragged away from my desk at such an important time, I might at least have been allowed to bring some paperwork to do so as not to waste too much valuable time."
"Oh, get a life, Perce!" called Bill, impatiently. "Why don't you come over here with us?"
"No thankyou," replied Percy, stiffly. He fidgeted in the chair. "I had the foresight to bring a book along, so I shall sit quietly and finish it."
The company exchanged amused looks, and proceeded to ignore Percy for the rest of the afternoon.
"I'm getting back in the water," announced George, rubbing the back of his neck. "This sun's too hot." He sprang to his feet, poking Fred and Lee as he passed them. Before too long, all five of them were lying in the shallow water, letting the tiny waves wash over their hot bodies.
Ginny grinned mischievously. She nudged Hermione, who was lying on her stomach munching some grapes, engrossed in a supplement of the Daily Prophet. An unspoken exchange passed between the two girls, and they slowly raised themselves to a standing position.
"What are you doing?" Harry asked, suspiciously.
"Ssh!" hissed Ginny, nodding towards the twins and their friends. "Watch."
Afterwards, Harry reflected that she had meant him to watch the subsequent events. However, the sight of Ginny whipping her shirt over her head to reveal a pink bikini and a warm tan temporarily distracted him -
All coherent thoughts were instantly wiped from his mind. For several seconds he simply stared, wide-eyed, oblivious to everything else going on around him, until he remembered that he was not only lying next to Ginny's brother, but he was, in fact, surrounded by her entire family. Reality hit him sharply, and he forced himself to tear his eyes away from Ginny's slender form creeping across the grass towards Fred and George. Leaning his forehead against his wrists, he perceived within the dim confines of his hunched shoulders and arms a sudden heat that was rushing through his skin as his heartbeat quickened. Trying to shut out the sounds of yelling and shrieking coming from the water's edge, he thanked the stars that he was lying on his front.
This was not good.
"Oi, Harry."
No, definitely not good at all.
Ron's foot connected with Harry's lower leg.
"Wake up, mate. I'm going into the water. Move your arse!"
He didn't wait for a reply, but charged across the grass alongside Bill, to join the noisy throng splashing madly in the river.
Harry chanced to raise his head. The twins and Lee were being forcibly constrained and repeatedly pushed under the surface by the girls. Their frenzied flailing was sending water in every direction, adding more shrieks and shouts to the boisterous uproar.
A long, thin cloud temporarily glided across the sun, shading the world below. Harry was about to sit up and remove his top layers when a surging stab of pain lanced across his forehead, intensifying to a peak and then ebbing slowly away. He blinked back the water in his eyes, and shook his head experimentally. It had only lasted for a split second, but the agony had been unusually acute.
Ever since the culmination of his fifth year at Hogwarts, Harry had been having special training from Professor Dumbledore himself in a specific form of Occlumency, following the unsuccessful attempts with Snape which had ultimately done more harm than good. The selective areas of the art which Dumbledore had singled out for Harry to study were particularly advanced and not commonly concentrated on - however, under the Headmaster's patient tutelage, Harry had succeeded in ridding himself of the nightmares and, for the most part, the frequent pains in his scar.
Only occasionally did his carefully built-up barriers break.
Harry sat quietly for a moment or two, a frown creasing his face, wondering which of Voldemort's pestilent followers was in disfavour with his master at that particular moment. He hoped to God that Sirius and The Order were aware that danger was still a very real threat and were on the alert, even if the search in Europe had provided no evidence. But he knew perfectly well that The Order was a competent force with swelled ranks since the Ministry of Magic had accepted it as a worthy counter-army to the ever-increasing servitude under Voldemort.
With all the fervour and determination of an impetuous young man, Harry ached to be back at school in contact with Dumbledore and Sirius, so as to know precisely what was going on in the outside world. The Burrow was infinitely preferable to Privet Drive at any time, but Harry knew that Mr Weasley and Percy were being deliberately kept in the dark at the Ministry for the duration of the summer holidays, to prevent labelling the family as a threat to Voldemort. It was frustrating, and not only for Harry, but at least it was keeping the Weasleys and their friends safe.
God alone knew what would happen once the Hogwarts term started.
It was well known that Cornelius Fudge intended to resign his position as Minister of Magic as soon as a satisfactory replacement could be found. Mr Weasley denied it, of course, but Harry knew with an inner wisdom that if anyone would take Fudge's place, it would be him.
The thought was alarming, to say the least. Already there was a price on the heads of Bill and Charlie for being so closely involved with The Order, and it was common knowledge that Harry was an intimate friend of the family. Another significant figure, Minister of Magic, no less, would increase the danger tenfold, and the entire family knew it.
Until that moment, Harry had been living in a blissful state of suspended animation since his arrival at The Burrow. Only Sirius' letter had reminded him of the urgent situation outside his comfortable, protected world, and he had been too involved with enjoying himself to pay particularly close attention to it for long. It had been a peaceful few weeks, Harry reflected. Re-united with his favourite family, his old Quidditch team, and his two best friends. And Ginny.
Ginny!
Harry's throat constricted painfully. He could have kicked himself for not realising it earlier! Any hope he had ever entertained of becoming closer to Ginny was impossible now. With two brothers practically Order members and a father on the verge of being promoted to Minister of Magic, it was the last thing in the world she needed to be linked to Harry Potter, number one on Voldemort's 'most wanted' list.
Harry knew what it was like to feel threatened. Every day of his life since his eleventh birthday he had been hunted, like an animal, more so than ever since Voldemort's so-called resurrection. Skulking in Dumbledore's shadow had kept him safe so far, but that was no longer what he was prepared to do, and Dumbledore knew it. The Headmaster had been waiting for the moment when Harry would break away from his protection, determined to fight for himself. It had been inevitable.
Running and hiding had been Sirius' only option of staying alive for many years, and Harry was adamant that he would neither run nor hide any longer. The prophecy had been clear. To kill or be killed. After the satanic sights he had seen during his sixth year, the screams of terror and agony he had heard from the mouths of innocent people being tortured and murdered, it would not only be a execution of duty to kill the instigators of such hideous acts of slaughter, it would be a pleasure to rip them into shreds.
As for Ginny - he could no more put a label on her back than he could join the Dark Side.
She was running towards him now, her damp hair clinging to her shoulders, every inch the flaming siren.
"Come in, Harry!" she said, collapsing beside him on Ron's towel. "It's lovely and cool."
Harry managed a weak smile. Thank the stars she couldn't see the torment raging inside him.
"Are you all right?" she asked, looking searchingly into his eyes with concern.
"I'm OK," he lied, willing himself not to get lost in those wide pools of brown that gazed back at him.
Ginny wasn't convinced. She raised herself slowly onto her knees and lifted a hand. She gently brushed a strand of hair from his forehead with her fingers, lingering for a moment on his scar. Her eyes were glittering fervidly.
"It's your scar, isn't it?"
How the hell could she know that?
Harry nodded. "Just for a moment, nothing serious," he said, more breezily than he felt.
Ginny was still surveying his eyes, as though she was trying to see beyond the shining green into the very depths of his mind. She smiled, and nodded her head understandingly.
"Come down to the water," she said, softly, taking his hand and pulling him to his feet.
Her touch was enough to make his heart race and his spirits lift, however deep he was in despair. The thought made his insides feel warm.
Ginny made him strong.
***
The hot afternoon soon became a cool twilight, the water abandoned for the bracing warmth of the fire Mr Weasley had conjured on the grass. Bikinis and shorts had been discarded for jumpers and trousers again, for the evening wind was crisp despite the lingering heat of the day.
Arranged around the fireside was a circle of cushions upon which the revellers were reclining peacefully, chatting quietly and watching the orange flames flicker. Harry was lying between Hermione and Ginny, his head propped up by his arms crossed behind him. He noted with amusement how Ginny had arranged their seating order so Ron was forcibly placed beside Hermione in the vague hope that they might agree to talk and sort out their problems. Harry approved of the gesture sincerely, and he was enjoying the frequent glances that flashed between himself and Ginny, relaying unspoken thoughts. Unfortunately, Ron and Hermione were not co-operating with the sneaky strategy, and were engaged in an argument that was being conducted entirely in very short sentences and low tones loaded with acerbity.
On the other side of the flames, Mrs Weasley had fallen asleep on Mr Weasley's shoulder, evidently worn out by the fatigues of the day. She was therefore oblivious to the activities of her eldest son a little way away from her, and the alluring young woman he was cradling in his arms. Just as well, thought Harry, with a smile.
Mrs Weasley was not the only one who appeared to be asleep. Angelina's eyes were shut, Harry could see, but the tiny flickers of movement in her cheeks whenever Fred's caressing fingers brushed her head belied her state of consciousness.
Alicia, Lee and George were in the throes of discussing Weasleys Wizard Wheezes with avid interest, while Percy was treating Mr Weasley to a tediously detailed account of proceedings in his department at the Ministry. Harry spent a few moments watching them all with fondness, until Ginny's head fell onto his arm.
"Cold, Gin?" he asked, in a low voice.
She murmured an affirmative, gazing into the flames raptly. Hardly daring to believe his luck, Harry circled her shoulders with an arm, drawing her close to share his warmth. He felt her sigh against his stomach contentedly, reminding him of the night they had spent on the swing lounger on the patio at The Burrow. Harry couldn't suppress a smile of triumph as Ginny settled snugly against him.
He supposed heaven ought to feel something like this.
***
Since the walk back to the house was all downhill, those of the company who were able to Apparate neglected to use this handy shortcut. The stars were shimmering overhead now, and it was with a maternal satisfaction that Mrs Weasley viewed her children and their friends wandering leisurely hand in hand or arm in arm down the little path.
With the exception of Ron and Hermione, everyone moved with the unhurried, relaxed grace of people tired from exertion and content to the soul. If anything, their argument was growing more and more heated as the group progressed.
"This is a fine way to behave towards a guest, Ron."
"We row like this at school and you never seem to mind."
"Why does that happen?"
"What?"
"Why do we always end up fighting?"
"Evidently you fail to learn from your mistakes." At this Harry couldn't help but wince. He felt Ginny stiffen beside him too while they waited to hear Hermione's retort.
"I fail to learn? What about your mistakes?"
"Quit with the nagging, Hermione. I really can't stand it."
"Then stop acting like a pig-headed adolescent!"
"In case you hadn't realised, eighteen is adolescent."
Hermione's voice dropped to an intense murmur. "Ron, none of us can afford to be adolescent in times like these, you know that. We're in this business hard and fast, and if we're going to support Harry we need to be mature and sensible."
"Fine, I'll be mature and sensible when faced with death. I'm not only Harry's friend, I'm also a teenage bloke, and I need time-out occasionally, you know."
"Ron! Time-out isn't an option any more!"
"Like hell you mean that! You were getting all excited with Gin yesterday about Harry's party next week!"
Hermione made a noise, followed by a long silence. Obviously she couldn't find a come-back quick enough.
"Truth hurts, doesn't it?" Ron continued, wrathfully. "How does it feel to lose an argument, Hermione? Never happened before, has it? It'll do you good to learn you're not an infallible oracle, perhaps then you'll stop acting like a bossy cow!"
Harry drew his breath in sharply. He'd said it! He'd said it to her face! Never in a million years did he think he'd do it. Waiting for Hermione's reaction, Harry failed to notice that Ginny had stopped dead in shock in front of him.
"Sorry," he whispered.
"It's OK."
They listened intently. Harry heard what sounded suspiciously like a sob, and then something bumped his shoulder and ran past him down the lane into the darkness.
Ginny let out a long breath and turned to Ron.
"That was uncalled for, Ron."
Ron didn't reply. Harry had never seen such a deadened, horrified expression in his best friend's face ever before, and neither, it appeared, had Ginny. For a moment Ron just stared into space, oblivious to the rest of the family passing them on the side of the path.
Once Mrs Weasley was far enough ahead, he let out a hoarse expletive, shutting his eyes tightly as though to block out the sight of Hermione's face when he had said those words.
Rather than appearing scandalised at his language, Ginny stepped forward calmly and took her brother firmly by the arm.
"Talk to her," she said, staunchly. "Tonight. Don't take no for an answer."
Ginny's steady, soothing eyes had an effect on Ron too, Harry noticed. An acquiescent nod was enough.
In silence the three of them walked briskly to catch up with the others at the turn in the road that led towards the Weasley meadow, Ginny's arms draped through both Harry's and Ron's.
"It's chilly in the evenings now, isn't it, Arthur?" Mrs Weasley was saying.
"Hm. Autumn's on it's way. How long are you staying for, Bill?"
Bill took a moment to divert his attention from Fleur to his father, if slightly grudgingly. "Until the Hogwart's term starts, at least. Hopefully longer."
"Excellent!" said George, brightly. "You can come and give us an appraisal on Weasleys Wizard Wheezes!"
Bill laughed. "I'm not that stupid, George. I wouldn't touch anything you put in front of me!"
They had turned the corner now, and the Burrow homed into view at the top of the meadow, sillhouetted in the moonlight. It was a truly beautiful sight. Contentment flooded Harry like warm liquid, intensified by the sweet smile Ginny gave him as he turned to look at her. For once in his life he felt completely at peace.
That is, until a single, piercing scream tore the night apart.
"Christ! That's Hermione!" gasped Ron, breaking free of Ginny's hold and racing across the meadow towards the house.
Panic lanced through Harry, echoed beside him in Ginny's frantic eyes. Heedless of Mr Weasley's shouts they tore after Ron, dreading what they were about to find -
***
Ron leapt over the fence at the edge of the meadow effortlessly, and sped across the yard and around to the patio.
Instinct told him where she was.
God, let her be all right!
He found her standing in the kitchen doorway, her back to him, shaking from head to foot in terror. Her wand lay at her feet where she had dropped it.
"'Mione!" he cried, gripping her arm to force her around. At his touch she turned and crumpled into his arms, clinging to him in shock and desperation. She sobbed wildly into his chest, clutching his shirt in her fingers frenziedly, pressing her body against his for reassurance and support. He tightened his hold, murmuring soothing words into her ear as he rocked her gently, letting his own body absorb the shattering tremours that passed through hers.
Ron felt Harry and Ginny come to a halt behind him, breathing fast.
Over the top of Hermione's head he stared into the gloom of the dark kitchen. Something was stretched out motionless on the stone floor. Something which was undoubtedly human.
Harry muttered a spell and raised his wand to light the scene.
A pile of black lay at the foot of the table, a brown hand stretched out across it as though it had been clawing its way wildly towards help. A mop of untidy hair fell over the figure's face. Short hair that emerged from a pool of dark blood seeping slowly across the stones.
Red hair.