Chapter 6
Garden Gnomes

Did you ever think of me as your best friend?
Did I ever think of you? I'm not complaining.
I never tried to feel this vibration.
I never tried to reach your Eden.

Hooverphonic – "Eden"

The sky was grey and the ground was wet. The trees swayed in the relentless breeze. Ginny fancied that they were shivering from the cold. It had been so sunny for the last few days and now, suddenly, it was a perfectly miserable day. The rain fell softly against the window pane and trickled down, each droplet racing the other to the bottom where they pooled on the dirty frame and leaked over the edge. Cars drove past, slower than normal, navigating the slippery road with care. Ginny had taken the bus that morning and had the fright of her life when the driver took a corner too fast during one of the more energetic downfalls. She watched the rain splash in the puddles while she waited for her boss to properly acknowledge her presence in his office.

"It's got to be Sunday!" Andrew shouted suddenly. He was wearing his headset for his telephone and rolled his eyes in a dramatic gesture. "For Pete's sake, Moira, how many times do I have to tell you? I can't come on the Saturday because I'll be extremely busy at work!" He fumbled with the files on his desk. "What do you mean, lying? Bollocks! I'm a supervisor at the BDI, Moira, I--" he paused. "WHAT?"

Ginny politely averted her gaze as he glanced over at her, his cheeks flushing red. She returned her attention to the rain and toyed with the strap of her handbag idly.

"Ridiculous," Andrew said firmly. "If you schedule it on the Saturday, then I won't come, Moira. It's as simple as that. No, it's not a question of my stubbornness, honestly, Moira! You—she hung up on me!" he suddenly shouted in exasperation. "Blow her," he decided. "Mother will tell her where to stick her precious baptism. Weasley!"

Ginny snapped to attention, her mind still trying to take in the information that her boss had offered before yelling at her. He wanted to reschedule a baptism around work? Ginny'd take the day off, no questions asked; declare a national holiday! An excuse to be away from work!

"Yes, Mister Campbell?"

"Weasley," he said again. "You've been away from the BDI for an entire week. I'm unimpressed and I don't buy this 'I was sick' story." His eyes narrowed. "Where were you?"

"Home, sick in bed," Ginny said nervously. "Stomach flu and allergies."

He eyed her. "Are you sure?"

"Fairly sure," she squeaked.

"Alright," he relented. "But mind you don't get sick again." His tone was gruff. "We need you about the place at the moments, things are bedlam."

"Alright, sir, I'll do my best."

"Do that," he responded. "Now. Because you were absent for so bloody long, I had to get a replacement to work with Bryson."

Ginny's stomach dropped. She wouldn't get to work with Dave again?

"Don't look so alarmed," Andrew mocked her. "You will, of course, know the bloke who replaced you. His name is Finnigan or some such. Irish bloke. Tall. Popular with the ladies." His expression darkened. "Too popular. Spends all his time in the lunchroom making idle chit chat with the office girls when he could be out in the field doing his work for a change."

Ginny didn't say anything, trying desperately not to let her boss see the sides of her mouth curling up.

"Anyway, he's been working on the same project that you and Bryson were hammering away at for the whole ten minutes you were here before you went on sick leave--"

Ouch.

"—and also some other project that he refuses to let me read the briefing for, despite the fact that he's working in my division now." Andrew's eyes glittered with scorn. "No respect, that boy. Anyway, that's where they're at. Finnigan won't be here too much longer, just long enough to wrap up his 'secret project' before he goes traipsing back off to Switzerland. I expect Bryson will fill you in." He picked up one of the files on his desk, flipped it open and retrieved a yellow piece of paper. He propped it up on the document holder next to his computer and moved the mouse. He glanced up. "Why are you still here?"

"Sorry!" Ginny jumped to her feet and headed out the door, rolling her eyes as soon as she was out of sight. Talk about being in a bad mood. She smoothed her skirt before making off in the direction of Dave's office.

"Watch it, Weasley," a voice drawled from behind a stack of files. "You could get a girl killed if you charge down here like that." Kristy's eyebrows were raised as she neatly stepped past Ginny.

Ginny tried to smile warmly. "Sorry about that, Kristy."

Kristy shrugged carelessly and headed into Andrew's office.

"Ginny!"

Ginny had no sooner finished knocking at the door before it was launched open. A pair of strong arms swept her up in a tight hug, holding on for several seconds.

"Okay, Ginny can't breathe," she managed to gasp out.

Dave released her and grinned broadly down at her. "I've missed you!" he declared. He ushered her into the office and let the door shut with a bang after her. "Seamus has been bloody boring compared to you!"

The blonde sitting in Ginny's usual seat threw her a grin. "As if."

Ginny smiled and, leaning over, kissed him on the cheek. "Hello, Seamus."

"Ginny," he acknowledged with a nod.

"Haven't you, Finnigan?" Dave sat on his desk, papers scattering about. "A great bloody bore, that's what you are."

Ginny hid a smile.

"Now, look here," Seamus began. "Just because I don't drink coffee and I've no idea how to play pool doesn't mean I'm boring!"

"Bloody oath it does," Dave confirmed. "And now that Ginny is back, my life will brighten a thousand shades."

Seamus rolled his eyes. "Bloody Aussies," he muttered.

Dave grinned. "Seamus won't really be pissing off now that you're here," he told Ginny conspiratorially. "He's on a secret mission. So secret that he won't even tell me what it's about, the great prat, and here I am, his new best friend!"

Seamus was suddenly overcome with a violent fit of coughing that, to Ginny's trained ears, sounded much like, "The hell you are!"

"Bit crook, Seamus?" Dave asked kindly. "Now that Gin's back, you can take a sickie."

Seamus waved his hands airily. "I won't die today, Bryson."

"Bugger," Dave said. "Anyway, Ginny, apparently you and Seamus already know each other? That's the only reason I haven't introduced you yet. I was all game to – had even scripted out a funny and quirky little intro speech for both of you – but no, no, Finnigan here assures me that you know each other better than I know beer!" He managed to look amazed. "How is this possible?"

Ginny laughed. "We went to school together."

"Oh, is that all?" he asked, sounding relieved. "Thought youse had dated or something."

Seamus looked thoughtfully at Ginny. "No, we didn't date," he mused. "But we dated in the same circle. She was with Dean and Harry, and I was with--"

"—everyone," Dave supplied. "Womaniser."

Seamus choked back a laugh. "Yobbo."

"Hey, that's the spirit!" Dave was greatly amused. "All you need is the accent and you're true blue, mate. True blue."

"What were the funny and quirky intro speeches?" Ginny asked.

His smile faded. "Oh, no, no, they're never being let out of kindergarten," he declared. "They're not funny now that you guys actually know each other. No, they're best left alone. Anyway, tell me! How is it that you two went to school together when he's as Irish as the next drunk and you're more British than a brolly?"

"An excellent point," Seamus stalled, turning to Ginny with a dazzling smile. "Gin?"

Damn.

"Um," she started. "Our school was located in, uh, Scotland, actually."

"Scotland!" Dave's eyes gleamed. "Wicked! Y'serious?" At Ginny's nod, he shook his head. "Scotland. That's so cool. Why'd you go to Scotland?" He directed the question at both of them.

"Parents," Seamus said quickly. "Thought I'd get a better education there."

"Private school?" Dave wrinkled his nose in distaste. "Fair enough."

"Same reason from me," Ginny said. "A much more useful education, Dad said."

Seamus smirked.

"Useful education?" Dave was confused. "What, the English and maths you learn at public schools not quite up to scratch?"

"Something like that," Seamus stepped in. "We gonna brief her or what?"

"Oh yeah." Dave flipped his legs over his desk and slid into his chair. "Crap. I did not just sit on my application for the next autopsy," he groaned, holding the crumpled paper up. "Oh, well, Kristy's used to worse from me."

Seamus indicated the chair next to him. "Have a seat."

Ginny dropped her bag on the floor and sat down in the chair, shivering at the cold of the firm plastic. "Buy some heated chairs, would you, Dave?"

"Yeah, bit cold in here, eh," he said, riffling around in one of the drawers. "Hit the switch on the heater behind you if it's gonna bother you."

Ginny found the switch and flicked it on. A warm blast of air shot out from the narrow columns, filling the room with a burnt dust smell. Ginny sat back in her chair and tried to breathe through her mouth instead.

"Right," Dave mused, looking at a few documents on the table in front of him. His hand still in his drawer, he frowned and reached further. "Where the smeg did I put them?"

"Put what? Who?" Seamus asked.

"Um," Dave responded. "My glasses."

"You need to wear glasses?" Ginny asked in surprise. "I haven't seen you wear them before!"

"Yeah," Dave said vaguely, putting on a pair of rectangular shaped frames. "They don't really suit me so I try not to."

Seamus studied him. "They make you look clever," he observed.

"They're charmed that way," Dave laughed.

"Really?" Ginny asked before she caught herself.

"Cor, you're gullible, aren't you, Ginny?" Dave smirked at her. "Next thing you know, I'll pull a wand out of my pocket and cast spells on the lot of us."

Ginny said nothing, her face burning. Seamus shot her A Look.

"Abracadabra, I am now a sexy beast!" Dave shouted, jumping up from his seat and doing a hasty twirl. He struck a pose. "Did it work, or what?"

"I think your wand is broken," Seamus said dryly. It was Ginny's turn to smirk and she did so with relish.

"Don't you go knocking my wand," Dave said severely, sitting back down.

Seamus choked back a laugh. "Or lack thereof!" Ginny laughed out loud.

"I'll prove it, if you like," Dave offered.

"No, no, no, no, no," Seamus said hastily. "Come on, we need to tell her the ruddy plan before it freezes over in the next ice age."

"Plan?" Ginny asked cautiously, switching back into business mode.

"Well..." Dave sighed tiredly. "Kind of. I'm applying for another autopsy to be performed on Harry Jenkins' body."

"Because..." Seamus prompted.

"Because," Dave mimicked him. "Because I'm beginning to think this wasn't just some straight-forward murder."

"Are you mad?" Ginny asked before she could stop herself. "Isn't that why you've been investigating it?"

"True," he conceded with a wink. "No; what I meant to say is that... I think... the supernatural forces might be at work here."

Ginny was dumbfounded. She looked to Seamus for an explanation but he was very busy looking out at the clouds. If Ginny hadn't known better, she'd have sworn she could see the corners of his mouth curling up. Then it struck her; she didn't know better. Seamus was smirking!

"The supernatural forces," she repeated neutrally. "Expand?"

Dave was pushing a sheet of paper toward her. She picked it up from the desk and looked at it. It seemed to her to be a picture of some sort of hippie slash goth wearing a variety of pendants and sitting next to an oversized, blackened and very old-fashioned cauldron.

"Again," Ginny said, "expand?"

"It's a picture of a witch," Dave said, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. Seamus was openly smirking now. Dave caught the look. "Oh, I suppose you don't believe in it, Finnigan; you are a very skeptical bloke."

"A witch?" Ginny was very confused. Firstly, since when did Dave know about the wizarding world? And secondly, since when were witches male?

"Yes, a witch!" Dave smiled at her. "Have you heard of Paganism, Ginny?"

"Paganism?" Ginny wrinkled her nose as she tried to remember what the term stood for. Damn her for not paying attention in Muggle Studies. Paganism. Some sort of Muggle religion. But what did it have to do with male witches?

"No?" Dave seemed surprised. "Have you lived under a rock?"

"She's from a small town, Dave. No witches there," Seamus added helpfully.

"What?" Ginny was thoroughly confused now. "Witches? Male witches?" Why the hell hadn't she paid attention to Muggle religions? Hadn't she passed that assignment? She'd done it on the Latter-day Saints, or the Presbyterians, or some lot.

Dave raised his eyebrow. "Do you think that witches can only be females?"

Ginny gestured with her hands, flustered. "I don't know!" Yes, you idiot!

"She doesn't understand it at all, Dave," Seamus noted.

"I can see that," Dave observed. "So you don't know anything about Paganism, Ginny?"

Ginny took a deep breath and willed herself to keep her cool.

"What the bleeding hell is Paganism?" she asked.

"A religion," Dave said patiently. "Pagans are devoted to nature and the environment. It's basically an umbrella term for a wide range of other religions like wicca, shamanism, druidry..." He looked at her closely. "My father is a Pagan," he said. "That's who the guy in the picture is."

"Okay..." Ginny said slowly, absorbing the new information. "So your father is a Pagan, not a witch."

"Oh, no, he's a witch too," Dave said. "He's Wiccan."

"What's Wiccan?" Ginny asked, frustrated.

"One of the religions underneath the Paganism umbrella," Dave responded. "Wiccans are witches. They communicate with their God and Goddess and work magic for whatever purpose they feel called to do."

"Not magic like in fairytales," Seamus put in hurriedly.

Dave was amused. "I think that goes without saying," he remarked.

"Oh, not real magic," Ginny said, perplexed. She shot a glance at Seamus, wondering what his initial reaction had been. "So what kind of magic?"

"Well, it's hard to define," Dave said thoughtfully. "Every witch is different and practices magic a different way. In fact, a lot of them would take offense at the way I've described it. Their working of magic is, very broadly speaking, manipulation of the life force and energy that surrounds every living object."

"It's rather complicated," Seamus said. "And highly irrelevant at this stage."

"Yes, I do actually have a point," Dave conceded. "I was discussing the case with my father and he thought that perhaps Jenkins may have been cursed."

"An Unforgivable curse?" Ginny asked. She shut her mouth furiously, refusing to meet Seamus' angry stare. One more slip like that and Dave would get suspicious.

"Unforgivable?" Dave repeated. "Well, yeah. I don't think curses are smiled upon in this part of the world. Or in any part."

Too right, Ginny agreed silently.

"It's worth exploring, anyway," Seamus said. "Don't you think, Ginny?"

"Oh," she replied. "Um... yeah, I suppose so."

"I see you don't know quite what to make of it," Dave said sympathetically. "Never mind, I didn't know quite what to think the day my dad came home with his brand new attitude after some forest rally. He met a bunch of Pagans and from then on in, our house was very environmentally conscious."

Ginny raised her eyebrow. Was it a coincidence that a Muggle religion of sorts was so loosely based on the wizarding world? And what a blow that Dave had decided to investigate supernatural explanations for the death of Harry Jenkins. What on earth could Ginny do to prevent Dave from discovering the truth without him feeling like she was meddling? And without using memory charms... it was going to be a challenge, and one that she hoped she was up to.

"Gonna head down to the photocopier," Dave said, getting up from his chair. "I'll photocopy this autopsy application and give it to Kristy so she can process it sometime before Christmas and then maybe we'll finally get a lead in this case." He gave Ginny a mock salute before exiting the room. "Don't get up to anything in there, Finnigan," he called over his shoulder cheerily.

Seamus looked out the office door and waited until Dave was properly gone. He shut the door and turned around to face Ginny, exhaling slowly. "Close one."

"Cor blimey," Ginny agreed, sinking her chin to rest in the palm of her hand. "It never even occurred to me that he could get this close to the truth."

"Yeah," Seamus said, returning to his seat next to her. He looked at her keenly. "But you do realise that we can't allow him to find out, don't you?"

"Yes," Ginny said irritably. "I know that, I just don't like it!"

"I can see you're friends with him." Seamus shrugged. "But if he gets too close, we'll have to Obliviate him. There's no other way. He can't find out about us."

Ginny sighed. "Well, what can we tell him? How can we throw him off the scent?" She felt glum. "Maybe we could arrange for a phony Pagan expert to pronounce the body free of curse and just... I dunno... burn it?!"

Seamus inclined his eyebrow. "Is that a good idea?"

"Uh, probably not."

Seamus sighed. "I don't really like this either. Contrary to what you've probably gathered from my banter with Dave today, I do actually really like the guy and I don't like lying to him either. But what can we do? We have our orders. And frankly, once we've covered this one up, the rest of them will come very easily and then we can return to the wizarding world, to normal jobs."

"Normal," Ginny muttered. "I'm beginning to lose my grip on normality."

"We can only do our best, Gin," Seamus reassured her. "If he finds out, he finds out. We'll just have to deal with it when the time comes."

"And in the meantime?"

Seamus shrugged. "Wing it?"

Ginny sighed and stretched, leaning back in the lounge chair. The sunlight was warm on her bare arms and legs and she shifted her weight contentedly. The garden was fairly bare but had a nice lawn and trim garden beds, though they overflowed with weed flowers. A few tall sweeping trees lined the fences and an empty birdbath sat in the corner. Ginny had opted to sit here and read the book she'd found in the cupboard in her room while Susan and Lavender shopped for groceries. She didn't know where Draco was but at the moment, was happiest not caring. A glass of lemonade sat on the grubby glass table by her side and she raised it to her lips, taking in the cool liquid and letting it run over her tongue before swallowing.

Ginny had never read a 'classic' English novel before but that was precisely what she had seemed to stumble on. 'Magic for Marigold' by L. M. Montgomery, a first edition copy, had been found tucked away in the darkest corner of the cupboard in her room. The title had interested Ginny, for what could Muggles possibly know of magic? And then she'd remembered this Pagan business and thought it most advantageous that she'd stumbled across this novel. So far, however, Paganism wasn't mentioned at all. Marigold was sitting by Old Grandmother's side in the moonlit garden and nothing remotely curse-like of the sort was happening. Still, Ginny was enjoying the story. She thought it very poor that the entire family had argued for months and months over what to call the little baby, and all because her father had died! Of course, that seemed tragic too. Poor Marigold, to grow up without a father. Ginny couldn't imagine life without her father. Happy, buoyant Arthur Weasley with his fascination for all things shiny and Muggle. Ginny loved her father dearly and hated the thought of the day when she would eventually lose him. The same, naturally, went for her mother and any of her brothers. Well, except Percy. He was as good as dead anyway. He had been missing since the war ended; presumed dead. Ginny couldn't honestly say that she'd prefer he was alive. He'd caused her family so much grief over the years that she no longer considered him a part of it. His being alive would only cause her unease with the knowledge that someone made up of the same flesh and blood could be so deceitful and betraying – to the very people who gave him life, no less.

Ginny sometimes couldn't help wondering what had driven Percy to do it. Had there been some sort of smug satisfaction in publicly humiliating his father at the Ministry and declaring allegiance to Minister Fudge, regardless of the path the man chose to follow? How had Percy even developed the seemingly insatiable need to enter the Ministry's ranks and work his way up? Where had the Weasleys gone wrong? Was it because of all the teasing and ribbing Percy had gotten from his brothers; completely harmless – or was it? Had they driven him to it? Had she, Ginny, driven him to through endless laughing at his relationship with Penelope Clearwater? Ginny had heard that Penelope and Percy had gotten married quietly a couple of weeks before the mess in the war really came to a head. How could he have done that without his family by his side? Ginny didn't know the answers. She supposed she never would.

"Weasley."

Draco appeared at her side and draped himself over the chair next to hers. She gave him a frosty look through her tinted sunglasses.

"Yes?" she inquired, arching her eyebrows at him.

"You look blue, Weasley," Draco stated, ignoring her cold expression.

"Do I really?" she asked politely, making a point of returning her attention to her book.

Draco sat there silently for a moment. Ginny stole a peek at him and to her horror, discovered him watching her. He smirked at her and she flushed a bright red. Furious with herself for looking, she snatched her gaze from his and looked stormily at her page, wishing desperately that he would go away. Ever since he had arrived, they'd done nothing but snipe at each other all day long; hardly the grounds for a blossoming friendship. Lavender, though, had had seemingly no trouble becoming friends with the former Slytherin. Ginny wasn't sure if it was the best friendship she'd heard of.

"What ails you?" Draco pressed.

"Nothing," Ginny replied shortly, keeping her gaze trained on her book.

"It's your precious boyfriend, isn't it," Draco decided.

Ginny's head whipped around to stare at him accusingly.

"Who?" she snapped.

"Who indeed," Draco said mockingly. "Perhaps it's the famous Boy Who Lived who likes to show up in the middle of the night and sleep with you... Or perhaps it's the rugged and manly Aussie bloke who likes to carry you in his arms... Or, as my sources inform me, perhaps it's the Irish bloke with funny ears who used to talk too much?"

Ginny rolled her eyes and sighed exasperatedly. "Shut up, Malfoy," she said warningly.

"Or...?" he asked lightly.

"Or I'll lock you in a room with all three of them until the moon glows neon green and you've figured out that not a single one of them is romantically interested in me," Ginny said cuttingly.

Draco shrugged. "Whatever. I shouldn't like to see the state of them after it."

"Why?" Ginny asked before she could stop herself.

He smirked infuriatingly. "I'm not telling, Weasley."

"Mature." She rolled her eyes.

Draco shrugged. "I don't recall declaring at any stage that I am." His mouth tilted. "Does it bother you?"

"What?"

"My lack of maturity." He stretched languidly. "Does it bother you?" he repeated.

"Why would it bother me?" Ginny asked, annoyed with him for asking such personal questions. "I don't really care if you're mature or not. It's got nothing to do with me."

"Oh, come on," Draco scoffed. "You live in the same house as me; everything about my personality has everything to do with you!"

Ginny regarded him with icy eyes. "I make sure it doesn't," she said finally, feeling as though she'd just lost a battle; though about what, she couldn't tell.

Draco sighed. Ginny looked away. "Weasley, Weasley, Weasley," he said. "How will I ever get through to you?"

"About what?" Ginny sighed herself. This'd be good.

"Break you down; become your friend!" He eyed her. "Lavender and Susan are quite happy to leave past grievances in the past; why aren't you?"

Ginny could only stare at him, completely surprised. They'd barely spoken two words to each other since he'd moved in – and when they had, they hadn't been civil words – so why was he pretending that he wanted to be her friend? It had to be some sort of reverse psychology, she decided finally. He was trying to get her off her guard, just so he could laugh at her. Well, she wasn't having a bar of it.

"Don't talk such rubbish," she said shortly, returning her attention to her book. "We aren't friends."

"We could be," Draco continued.

"Shut up!" Ginny exclaimed, not lifting her eyes from the page. "We aren't and never will be."

He remained silent for a moment. Perhaps he was absorbing this information or was merely looking for a new way to strike at her. Presently, he rose. "I'm sorry you feel that way, Ginny," he said. She looked up and could see the laughter positively dancing in his eyes. She narrowed her own. "I mean- we could have been best friends."

"I've already got a best friend," she said, thinking of Harry and Hermione.

"They were a trio before you came along," Draco said succinctly. "I saw them. I was there. They didn't need a fourth wheel."

Ginny saw red.

"You arsehole!" she exclaimed. "What the hell would you know about my friends?"

"The same amount as you'd know about mine," he replied. Ginny flushed as she remembered some of the more unsavoury things she'd said about Draco's friendship with Crabbe and Goyle in the past.

"Just leave them out of it," she muttered, shielding her eyes from the sun. "Why do you want to pick on me about everything, anyway?"

"Why not? You're a Weasley," he said tauntingly.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake!" Ginny snapped. "You've picked on my friends, my work, my family – anything else? Would you like me to perhaps suggest things? Maybe my hair? The way I walk? The size of my arse? What I eat for breakfast?" Her breath was coming in hot, angry gasps now as she tried to contain her anger at him. He's just trying to rile you up, she told herself. Remain calm.

Draco ticked them off on his fingers. "Your hair is too red, you walk with an uneven gait, your arse is reasonably proportioned though I can't say I spend too much time looking and from what I see at breakfast time, all you eat is toast and pumpkin juice so yeah, maybe you should be looking for a bit more variety in your diet."

Ginny snapped her book closed. "Do I have to get up and go inside or are you going to leave?" she asked in a low voice.

Draco smirked. "I'll go," he said. "Wouldn't want to trouble you."

Ginny muttered several expletives as he wandered away, scratching the back of his neck absently. He was such a pain, and seemed to gain such pleasure from riling her up. It was beginning to grate on Ginny's nerves. The sooner he left her alone, the better. In fact, the sooner her work could be over and she could move back to the wizarding world and hopefully never see him again – much the better!

Marigold could not stop crying all at once, but she sat up and blew her nose. "Oh, Aunty Marigold – really?"

"Yes, really. Father said to me, 'I am disappointed in you,' and I said 'I wouldn't care for that if I wasn't disappointed in myself."

"That's how I feel, too," Marigold whispered. "And then Beulah--"

"Never mind the Beulahs. You'll find heaps of them in life. The only thing to do is ignore them. Beulah would make an excellent mouse-trap but if she tried for a hundred years she couldn't look as sweet and pretty as you did, standing up there with your puzzled blue eyes. And when you screwed them shut--"

"Oh, I saw such funny things, Aunt Marigold!" cried Marigold, bursting into a peal of laughter. Aunt Marigold's little bit of artful flattery was a pick-me-up. It was true poor Beulah was very plain. Oh, how nice to be with some one who just understood and loved. Nothing seemed so disgraceful any more. A truce to vain regrets. She'd show them another time. And here was Lucifer and Salome with a plate of hop-and-go-fetch-its.

An hour later, Ginny heard a noise behind her and craned her head to see Draco walking toward her with a statue in his hands. Completely ignoring her, he walked over to the fishpond and placed the statue in front of a bush. He rustled the foliage about, framing it naturally and stepped back to admire his handiwork. He darted forward only once to readjust a small branch of yellowing leaves. Mystified, Ginny watched him walk back past her and walk into the house. She turned her gaze back to the small statue and squinted. What on earth was it? She cast a look back at the house and saw to her relief that Draco had disappeared. She put her book aside and got up from the lounge chair, stretching her arms way above her head. She wandered casually over to the statue, her gaze analysing it carefully.

It was a small statute and seemed to be of some human-like figure dressed in badly mismatched, bright clothes. She knelt down in front of it. It was a little man; a dwarf, perhaps, with a white beard and a rounded hat. She frowned as she looked at the face. No, not a dwarf... a gnome! It was a very crude depiction of a gnome. No gnome would ever dress so appallingly, she felt sure. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she considered the reasons why Draco would place one of these in the backyard. A glimpse of something rounded and small in the gnome's mouth caught her attention and she leaned forward, trying to identify it. Some sort of lolly, perhaps, or—

"Bog off, ugly!" a mechanical voice barked suddenly from within the gnome. Ginny fell back in fright and stared at the gnome, her mouth agape. Somewhere from inside the house, she could hear Draco howling with laughter. She got to her feet crossly and stomped back to her lounge chair, snatching up her book and settling back in the chair. Her heart was pounding from the shock. What was that thing?

A pair of arms suddenly slid around Ginny's neck and she snapped. "You idiot!" she bit out.

"What did I do now?" Harry asked good-humouredly.

"Harry!" Ginny twisted her head around to see him smiling blissfully down at her. "Merlin's beard, I thought you were Draco."

"Oh?" His tone was mild. "Is he in the habit of putting his arms around you?"

Ginny cracked a smile. "No, but he--" She pointed to the gnome. "He put that there, and it played a trick on me. I thought it was him coming out to laugh at me."

Harry frowned. "I see." He walked over to the gnome and squatted down in front of it. "Bog off, ugly!" it could clearly be heard to exclaim. Harry smirked as he got up and faced her. "A harmless Muggle garden gnome statue, Gin," he explained as he approached. He knelt down beside her chair, inches away from her face. He smiled at her and she returned it tentatively. "It's got a sensor in its mouth so that it knows when someone is there and it can insult them."

"What a useless acquisition," Ginny remarked sourly.

Harry laughed. "It does seem a bit pointless," he agreed. "Sounds like you and Draco are having some fun." He was so close to her now that his breath was tickling her skin.

Ginny was doing her best to ignore his close presence. "I wouldn't put it like that."

"Wouldn't you?" He leaned forward and pressed feather-light kisses on her cheek. "How would you put it then?"

Ginny was frowning, gazing off into the distance. Was the exchange with Draco something that he considered fun? If you subtracted the viciousness behind the comments, it could be like any regular banter she conducted with her brothers. And that troubled her. She sighed suddenly and Harry stopped kissing her.

"Troubles, love?" he asked kindly.

Ginny shook her head. "I dunno." She locked gazes with him for an instant and then flicked hers away. "I guess not."

"Want to hang out with me for the rest of the evening?" Harry asked, almost shyly. "The sun's nearly gone so I figure you'd have to go inside soon anyway."

Ginny eyed him. "What do you have in mind?" she asked.

"A walk on a beach?" he suggested.

Ginny smiled. "Far away from here?" Far away from Draco?

"Paris?" Harry teased. "Australia?"

Ginny's grin broadened. "How far can you Apparate?"