Harry and Ginny walked for an hour amongst the pine forest. They felt
closer to each other than perhaps they had ever felt before. When they
reached the beginning of the garden path, the wonderful aroma of Christmas
dinner wafted down the chill breeze to them, reminding them of how hungry
they were after their rather "rigorous" activity an hour before.
"So," Ginny smiled, turning to face Harry with her hands clasped in his. "Ready to go in and face everyone?"
Harry grinned sofly. "I feel I could face anyone right now, Gin," he answered tenderly. They both walked together the rest of the way up the garden path, to the door which was prompty thrown open by Hermione. She had a knowing smile on her face as she eyed them and their clasped hands watchfully.
"Looks like you two sorted it out, then," she grinned to herself.
"Sure did," Harry answered her with a smug smile of his own. Ginny rolled her eyes good-naturedly at him, then turned to Hermione.
"Where's Ron? I haven't seen him much at all this morning."
Hermione's smile broadened. "Lord knows where he is at the moment. He was last seen chasing Fred and George down the drive-way, after he'd had enough of having their snowballs ditched at him through the kitchen window."
Ginny snorted with laughter. "Are they going to be back in time for lunch?"
Hermione shrugged non-concernedly. "They might be. But if Ron catches them, they might NOT be."
Harry glanced out the window. "Looks like they're coming back now. But none of them look very happy..."
Sure enough, Ron, Fred and George came tramping grumpily through the kitchen door, wet with snow and wearing very grouchy expressions. Harry let out a very ill-concealed choke of laughter. "What happened to you?" he asked Ron jovially.
"Thanks for the help, Harry," Ron glared at him as he pulled his boots off, not bothering to answer the immediate question.
"I was indisposed at the time," Harry blushed to himself, catching Ginny's twinkling, laughing eyes.
"Cool," Ron answered vaguely, obviously having just smelt Christmas Dinner. "Well I'm starving. I could eat a horse and frighten the rider," he shouted as he made his way into the kitchen and sat down at the table, laden with candles and a rich red table cloth.
Mrs Weasley was still sieving the gravy when Mr Weasley came in the door with a huge beanie hung over his eyes. He tripped over the cat and almost managed to knock a baking dish off the bench before Mrs Weasley came to the rescue and pulled the beanie quickly off his head. Hermione, Harry and Ginny could only laugh to each other and Ron was under the table in fits of laughter.
"Lunch is ready, everyone!" Yelled Mr Weasley, "Harry, Ginny, go and get Fleur and Bill would you please?"
When everyone was properly seated around the long table, after a long debacle of actually getting everyone there, Mr and Mrs Weasley brought out the trays and baking dishes of Christmas turkey and roast vegetables.
Harry and Ginny sat at the far end of the table next to each other. Ron and Hermione sat to the left of them. Harry looked at the enormous spread of food which was layed out before them. Now he was no cook to say the least, but Harry thought that there was enough food there to feed well over forty people. Not that cold turkey and bubble and squeak were a bad leftover, it was just the fact that it would take them weeks to finish that much food.
However, Harry found himself entirely wrong when the entire family simply dove into the food at an alarming rate. Mrs Weasley was trying to yell "mind your manners!" but she was soon drowned out amongst the excited chatter and clanging of various utensils. Harry served Ginny first, then himself. Ron, who was trying to reach rudely over the other side of the table, had piled his plate so high that Hermione, whose head was actually out of her book, looked at him in disgust and, like always, had to comment about it.
"Ron, I'm sure that the food's not going to disappear," she said, revolted. "You're being really piggish. I can't even see your plate anymore!"
"Yeah, Ron," called out George from the other side of the table. "You don't see US piling our plates that high, do you??" Both twins, of course, had plates piled every bit as high as Rons'. In fact, Freds' seemed a little bigger and some of his roasted pumpkin was on a bit of a lean out to the right. Everyone, including Mr Weasley, gawked at them with looks of half amusement, half disgust.
Harry kept squeezing Ginnys' hand under the table, throughout the entire dinner and at one point their touching of each other would have looked extremely obvious, had it not been for Bill and Fleur, who certainly didn't care that other people were watching them. Rather off-putting when people were eating and they were soon told by both Mr and Mrs Weasley that they could do that sort of behaviour when they were away from the kitchen table!
Harry had never tasted anything so wonderful as the Christmas Dinner in his entire life. Mrs Weasley had baked an amazing dinner which was branded with a homely flavour, and despite Harry's prediction on the amount of food left over, there seemed to be only one small tray of baked potatoes and one of parsnips, a smidgen of turkey and the crumbs off the Christmas pudding left over.
As it turned out, Harry and Ginny were landed with the dishes. It was not as bad as it sounded, and Harry found it quite fun using his magic for the first time. The only miss-hap the both of them had was when Harry accidently dropped an old jug onto the floor. Directly after that, a wooshing sound came through the front door. Harry knew that sound and he knew who it was.
Sirius Black appeared at the front door, shaggy and messy as ever. He quickly brushed his dark hair out of his face and immediately looked in Harry's direction, his twinkling brown eyes meeting with Harry's green ones. Sirius lay his broomstick down and everyone who was left in the kitchen rushed up to meet him. Those that had since departed, ran in from outside immediately.
"Merry Christmas Guys!!" Sirius yelled.
"MERRY CHRISTMAS SIRIUS!!" Everyone cried ten times louder. Sirius, who was still trying to tame the hair out of his face, handed out small presents to everyone. He would smile everytime someone gave out a yell of joy at the gift that they recieved, and then he would tell that person of what that particular gift would do, or where he found it.
He finally came to Harry, who had just dumped the last load of clean dishes into the cupboard, everyone else had suddenly left the kitchen and gone outside to enjoy the rare sunshine, leaving Harry and Sirius alone.
"Thanks for the present, Sirius, it's awesome," he grinned at him.
"You liked it? I thought you would," Sirius smiled lazily and leaned back against the sink. "Used it yet?"
Harry glanced up at him quickly, a hot flush blooming on his cheeks from the memories Sirius's innocent question conjured up. "Uh, yeah - just before actually," he answered quickly, glancing around to make doubly sure no-one else was present in the room to overhear their conversation.
Sirius caught the flush spreading across Harry's cheeks and grinned at him knowlingly. "Oh, I see," he smiled, his eyes flashing mischeviously. "Good to see my present's being put to good use". Harry blushed harder at the obvious innuendo as Sirius proceded to laugh his head off.
"Shut up," he muttered, turning back to fiddle with a recently-washed mug.
Sirius sniggered. "Bit of a hit with the ladies then, hey Harry?"
Harry almost dropped the mug he had taken to tapping absent-mindedly. "No!"
"Contrary to what I've heard," he grinned again, seeming to be quite delighted with himself. Harry gave him a punch in the arm and walked across the living room to the Christmas tree. He pulled out a wrapped parcel and threw it at Sirius.
"Amuse yourself with that," he told him dryly, before adding, "oh, yeah, and Merry Christmas, to you too."
"Cheers, Harry," said Sirius, pulling the ribbon off and letting it fall to the carpet. "Oh, nice, Harry," he commented as he pulled a new (and clean) shirt out of the wrapping paper. "Very nice." He held it up to his chest and nodded approvingly, pulling the cuffs down to his wrists to make sure it fit. "Should I put it on now?" he asked Harry, grinning again.
Harry shrugged bashfully, pleased that Sirius liked his present so much. "If you want," he said, watching Sirius as he pulled off his tatty green- knitted jumper, exposing his pale, scarred chest.
Harry's eyes narrowed as he surveyed his godfather critically. Sirius stopped what he was doing with his head half-way through the neck-opening (he hadn't bothered to undo the buttons). His eyes darted around the room, half expecting to find another cause for Harry's obvious dismay.
"...What?" Sirius said awkwardly.
Harry frowned and his eyes met those of his Godfather's. "What the hell did they do to you in Azkaban?"
Immediately, Sirius's expression became clouded, and he quickly pulled his head through the opening and smoothed the shirt down. He didn't answer Harry.
"Sirius," Harry pressed. "Is that what they do to prisoners? Beat them up?"
Sirius turned away, suddenly seeming very interested indeed with the Christmas decorations. Harry waited for an answer, as Sirius began fiddling nervously with a stray thread off the couch. "They don't beat you at Azkaban," he began suddenly, causing Harry to jump slightly. He glared into the fireplace. "I got these scars trying to escape. Not for being caught at it." He gave a disgusted laugh. "Dementors can't beat people," he shuddered visibly despite the warmth of the Living Room. "They don't need to,"
Harry didn't know what to say. He stood there, feeling like a right bastard for forcing Sirius to tell him something he so obviously wanted to forget.
"But I'm just glad now that I'm out of that shit-hole," Sirius announced loudly, turning to look at Harry, the lines of age visible on his weathered face. "It took a lot out of me, I tell you what," he laughed shortly and humourlessly. "Speaking of Azkaban, I hear that Lucius Malfoy's on the loose," he said, purposely changing the sugject.
Harry nodded abruptly. "He was let of of Azkaban a while ago. They say he was innocent all along. A Ministry mistake."
Sirius gave him a grim look, shaking his head disgustedly. "Lucius Malfoy could talk his way out of a paper bag. Back on as School Governor, I hear? Ministry compensation, the whole works?"
Harry grimaced. "Yeah," he said quietly.
"You just stay out of his way," Sirius said quickly, his tone causing Harry to look up at him sharply. "I've known him in the past. I know what he can do."
"Me too," Harry remarked quietly, remembering back to his fourth year, at the Riddle's Graveyard.
"Then you'd know what I mean. He's dangerous. Lucius is one of Voldemorts most trusted servants. He's clever, Harry - he has both Voldemort and bloody Fudge behind him, and he's more than capable of murdering any one of you-"
"Do you think that I don't know this?" Harry snapped at him viciously, his voice shaking in sudden anger. "Do you honestly think I sit up in my little dormitory bed and twiddle my thumbs all day long? I'm the one who saw him at Voldemort's re-birth! I know, Sirius! I know better than anybody, better than - than - YOU!"
Sirius sighed, looking very old and tired again. "Yes, yes, I know. Sometimes I really wish you would sit in your dormitory bed and twiddle your thumbs, none the wiser. At least then you'd be out of harm's way," he gave Harry a worried sort of half-smile. "But I know you'll never do that. You're too much like I was. Too much like James."
Harry looked away quickly, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, ok, that's enough of that sentimentality," he said shortly, glaring at the hearth rug moodily. There was an awkward silence between them. He looked back up at Sirius, who was wearing a very curious expression. Harry, completely bemused, gave him a questioningly look, before Sirius burst out laughing. Harry felt a grin tug at his lips but furiously tried to stop it.
"Sentimentality?" Sirius gasped between bouts of laughter. "You're so RIGHT, Harry! God, I never thought of it like that! 'Harry, your Father would have been proud, I'm sure he watches over you and protects you.'" He gave a howl of laughter, and Harry couldn't help but join him this time. Harry straightened up and tried to compose himself. "Sober up, you idiot," he tried to scold Sirius, who was still laughing whole-heartedly. Finally, Sirius straightened and coughed once or twice to clear his throat of stray sniggers.
"Ok, Harry," he began. "Its Christmas, so I'll make a deal with you. I won't talk about Lucius, or Voldemort, if you don't talk anymore about scars and Azkaban, ok?"
Harry grinned for the first time since their unfortunate bend in conversation, and punched Sirius affectionately. "Deal," he said, before grabbing Sirius by the arm as he swayed.
"Come on, you decrepit old man, let's get some dinner into you. "
"Hey, Harry," Fred was saying with cheeky, fake admiration. "Seeing as you're, like... THE youngest Seeker of the century, and, like, THE Boy Who Lived, that, like, automatically makes you Quidditch Captain for our special Christmas match!"
Harry, who had been in the process of putting his boots on for an afternoon out in the snow, raised his eyebrows at him. "Shut up, Fred," he said shortly, shaking his head as the twins dissolved into overly sarcastic girlish giggles.
"We're being serious, Harry!" Fred laughed out loud. "Well, sort of anyway," he sniggered as George gave him a sneery look and a whack on the back. "Nah, anyway - oh, shut up, George - we're seriously having a Christmas Quidditch match. And you're the Captain of one of the teams. So feel priveleged," he concluded, before turning around and leaping over to the others. "He said he'll do it!" he cried to them. Harry smiled and rolled his eyes, before making his way towards the group.
"Ginny's the other Captain." George messaged to him. "Coz she's your girlfriend," he added slyly. Harry gave him a blank look. How did he-?
"That's right, Harry, we all know," Bill laughed, thumping him on the back. "We've known for ages." Harry gave Ginny a panicked look, but she just smiled in an embarrassed way and shrugged slightly.
"How did you-?" he began, but Fred cut him off.
"Bit obvious. Especially when Bill and Fleur are doing 'ze exact zem zing', hey Miss Veela?" Fleur had the decency to blush, while George dissolved once again into hysterical laughter.
"Ok, shut up, you two," Bill ordered them, a little too quickly, his face still holding a tell-tale blush of red. "Let's get this game moving. Ginny, get your arse over here next to Harry, you're picking your teams." Ginny quickly moved to stand next to Harry, giving him a mischievous grin as he glanced down at her.
"Choose your teams and stop perving on each other," Fred complained quickly, annoyed at having to stand in the cold doing nothing.
"Oh - right," Harry stammered. "Uh - Charlie, you're with me," he called to the second oldest Weasley. Charlie walked proudly to Harry's side, obviously pleased to be the first picked.
"Bill," Ginny called, and he moved to stand, just as proudly, beside his team captain.
"Ron," Harry said and watched Ron bound happily to his side.
"Fleur," Ginny stated.
"Hermione."
"Wait a sec!" There was a call from over at the house, and Sirius came striding over. "Aren't I invited to play?" He asked them, eyebrows raised questioningly.
Ginny grinned at him. "Guess who's pick it is, Harry?" she sniggered. "Sirius, you're with me."
Harry scowled. "Fine," he said shortly, glaring at her triumphant face. "You won't win, though," he teased.
"Last two to be picked, that'd be right, hey, George?" Fred was grumbling to his brother. "Nice of them, REAL nice of them..."
"George!" Harry called out.
Fred's face was mutinous. "DEAD last to be picked! I WAS a Hogwart's beater, thanks very much, which is more than I can say for-"
"Fred, get over here, looks like I'm left with you," Ginny laughed as Fred, still grumbling, sulked over to join her team.
The match's rules were a little different to usual, being there less players on each side. On Harry's team, he of course was made Seeker, while Charlie and Hermione were made Chasers. George was their one Beater, and Ron was made their Keeper. On Ginny's team, she, being the team captain, was also made Seeker. Sirius and Fleur were made Chasers, Fred was their Beater, and Bill their Keeper.
The match turned out quite fair. Both Captains had Orbits, both Bill and Charlie had recently purchased Fleetwood Zaps, Fleur owned a Whizzbeevis 360, Ron was on his Nimbus, Sirius on a Firebolt, and Hermione, Fred and George on Cleansweeps. Of course, due to the fact that everyone knew they were on the crappest Brooms on the pitch, the two boys took to mocking Ginny and Harry by proudly showing off their Cleansweeps by doing victory- laps around the treetops. Mr and Mrs Weasley agreed to referee the match, and the goals were made to be two trees on opposite ends of the Quidditch field.
Mr Weasley released the Snitch and the Bludgers, and then, with a resounding blow on his newly-acquired whistle (it came in the Quidditch box Mr and Mrs Weasley had given their children for Christmas), the Quaffle was thrown and the game began.
The pitch exploded with excitement as Charlie, Hermione, Sirius and Fleur all leapt forward on their brooms towards the Quaffle. Charlie reached it first and was quick to pass it to Hermione, who did a surprisingly good job at avoiding Fred's bludger sent straight at her face. She dropped the Quaffle as Mr Weasley blew his whistle. "Penalty to the Potter Team! Fred - you can't do that! And lay off Hermione will you, she hasn't had as much experience as you boys."
Play resumed, and Hermione had a shot at goal. The Quaffle actually seemed as though it might make it through the gap between the trees, before Bill caught it by the tips of his fingers and threw it at Sirius. "Dammit," Hermione swore, and spun around to career (not so carefully this time) up towards the other end, where Sirius and Fleur were peppering Ron's trees with the Quaffle. A goal went through after numerous attempts by Fleur, and the Ginny Team were ten up.
It was very cold up on the broom, away from the heat of play. The Snitch hadn't shown itself at all, and Harry had taken to launching himself at particular shiny snowflakes which looked (at that moment) as if they might turn into Snitches. The trees at the end of the garden path looked very frost-bitten, and Harry - his teeth chattering - couldn't help but commiserate with them. He knew how they felt.
There was a whoop of delight from below, and Harry saw Charlie and Hermione whizzing around their goalposts, having just scored their first goal. Even scores now. Cheering, and clapping from the side-lines, Mr and Mrs Weasley congratulated an elated Hermione on her first goal - ever. Sirius was given the Quaffle, and he took off with it at such a pace that Fleur had trouble keeping up. He threw it to her and she ducked George, who had taken a swipe at her with his Beater's bat, and threw the Quaffle hard at the gap between the trees. However, Ron blocked it by the tail of his broom and Hermione caught it as it dropped, heading off again towards the other end.
Harry glanced towards the sun. It was giving off a golden glow, turning the snow-white trees alight with fiery magnificence, and Harry - just for a moment - gave up looking for the Snitch to concentrate on the beauty of the winter light. He could see Ginny, hovering over by his team's goal posts, her eyes wide open and darting from here to there. He grinned to himself, watching her shake her curly red hair free of snow. She really was quite the loveliest creature he'd ever seen, but he didn't allow himself the luxury of gazing at her for long - afterall, he couldn't give her the chance of catching the Snitch before him and winning the game. He'd never hear the end of it - being beaten by his girlfriend. But he seriously doubted she'd beat him anyway. He was the professional Seeker, not her. He was certain he'd win.
"FRED!" There was a bellow down below, and Harry spun around to watch. Mr Weasley was blowing his whistle repeatedly. "For God's SAKES, Fred, you can't handle the Quaffle when you're a BEATER!" Fred, Quaffle in hand, was glaring down at his father from where he sat, poised on his broom, about to throw the Quaffle at Ron.
"Yeah well, Dad, I can't HIT anyone, and I can't get any points, so where's the fun in life?" he yelled back, turning again to throw the Quaffle at Ron's face.
"And leave your brothers ALONE!" Mrs Weasley yelled at him. Fred gave a frustrated shout and threw the Quaffle to Charlie. "Take the goddamn Quaffle and lose, you sucker," he said bitterly, and turned back to fend off the bludgers.
Mr Weasley shook his head sadly, but Harry could see, even from their distance apart, that he had a smile on his face. The whistle was blown for play to resume, and Charlie quickly scored another goal, making the scores 10-20, the Potter Team's way.
"This is crap." Fred was heard complaining. "Absolute cra- SHIT!" A bludger, hit by George, almost took him off his broom, as he spun around to avoid it. "Funny, funny, Georgey-boy," he snapped at his laughing twin, glowering.
The game was fast-paced and brutal, but quite low-scoring. By 4pm, the Potter Team were on 50, while the Ginny Team were on 30. It was beginning to get dark, and Harry was starting to think, for the first time, that he may not actually catch the Snitch - for the simple reason that his hands were pretty well frozen to his broomstick. Ginny, too, was looking blue around the lips, and he could see her shoulders shaking violently from where he sat gazing numbly around the field. The wind was beginning to pick up, and the clouds hung heavy above them, threatening a downfall of snow. "Snitch, Snitch, show up, would you!" Harry chattered to himself, his body numb.
"Goal!" Hermione was screaming excitedly down below. The Potter's were now on 60-30, but Harry couldn't even grin, he was so frozen. He distinctly heard Ginny's cry of despair as Mr Weasley called the updated scores out, and revelled in it - his team had to win now. If only he could find that-
"No!"
Ginny was careering at a ridiculous speed down the pitch away from him. By the concentrating, furiously determined look on her face, she wasn't feinting - she'd seen the Snitch. Harry spun around and sped after her. He could see the Snitch now, but Ginny was much closer than he was.
"Give up, Ginny!" He called out to her as he gathered speed, gaining on her from the left. "I'm going to get this Snitch first if it costs me my life!"
Ginny didn't turn around to answer him, instead, she screamed out against the roaring of the wind speeding by them, "Harry, there is no WAY you're getting this one!"
Harry was close enough to grab onto the back of her robes. "Yeah right," he muttered, his eyes feverishly focussed on nothing but the golden ball ahead of them.
Suddenly, the Snitch veered sharply to the right, and before Harry could react, Ginny had leapt off her broom and launched herself, mid-air, at the Snitch. He was on the wrong side of her, he realised too late. Completely, unluckily wrong-footed, and he knew then that he didn't have a chance. He watched in helpless dismay as her hand closed over the sparkling metal ball, and she shrieked triumphantly as she began to fall downwards. The drop wasn't much - five feet or so - and she fell onto soft snow. Her hand shot up, still tightly gripping the Snitch, and she laughed out loud to herself. Harry could tell that she was utterly amazed - and bloody cocky - that she'd beaten him.
Ginny's team of Bill, Fleur, Fred and Sirius sped towards her on their brooms, cheering and screaming that they'd "beaten Potter", leaping off to clap her back and congratulate her as if she were a triumphant warrior.
Ron yelled at Harry from over at the trees. "Harry - why the hell didn't you get that Snitch?" His face was crestfallen, as was Charlie's, Hermione's and George's. "You're meant to WIN, Harry - not lose it to your girlfriend! Are you the Pro-Seeker or what?"
Harry opened his mouth, trying to think of something to justify his loss, but laughter was choking his voice. "I - uh, I let her win," he stammered. "Felt- felt sorry for her team."
Ron gave him a disbelieving look, shook his head and sank to the ground. "Well, that sucks. You shouldn't have been so chivalrous, Harry. Always gotta be the gentleman, don't you?"
Harry couldn't help but grin to himself. He flew to the ground and hopped off his broom, moving to shake hands with the winning captain. "Well done," he said to Ginny, his eyes twinkling into her excited ones. She was breathing hard, her face glowing with elation, her hair all over the place from the fast and furious flight. "But I let you win," he sniggered. Ginny narrowed her eyes at him, but her smile didn't faulter. "If it makes you feel better, keep telling yourself that, Harry Potter," she answered primly. "But meanwhile, if you don't mind, I'm off to get drunk with my triumphant team-mates."
"Oh no, you're NOT," Mrs Weasley had come over to congratulate the winning side. "Your celebration consists of a Christmas Bonbon, Ginevra Weasley, not a bottle of your Father's firewhisky."
"Oh, MUM," Fred began, highly affronted. "We just beat Harry Potter - Quidditch Extraordinaire, The Boy Who Lived! You can't honestly expect us to just sit around cracking bonbons and watching the Carol Singers! You've gotta be kidding!"
"Sounds like a nice night to me..." Mr Weasley began, but was promptly cut off by ten voices all arguing at once. "All right, all right, you can have some butterbeer," Mr Weasley yelled over the top of them. "But nothing more. No-" he shouted, as everyone commenced their complaining. "That's the way it's gotta be, my little loves. Butterbeer for the lot of you."
"And don't argue!" Mrs Weasley warned them all. "Now get inside right now, before you all catch your death of cold."
Everyone filed back into the warmth of the Burrow and huddled around the fireplace. "That was actually quite a good grab, you know, Ginny," Ron admitted after his hands had thawed out.
Harry gave him a hurt look. "Hey - what are you talking about - we lost!" he joked to him.
Ron nodded acceptingly. "Yeah, but you have to give credit when credit's due. And it's not often that Ginny beats you, Harry. It's not often that anyone beats you."
"Ginny, maybe you should be a Seeker?" Hermione added.
"Oh, fair go!" Harry cried. "You are forgetting that I'M Gryffindor's current Seeker, Hermione. And I'm not going anywhere."
"I'm just saying that Ginny has talent to become a wonderful Seeker, nothing more, so let's just leave it at that, shall we, Harry?" Hermione answered kindly.
"Let's," Harry commented dryly, before turning to wrap his arms around Ginny. She leant into him and watched as everyone wandered off to different parts of the house. "You didn't really let me win, did you Harry?" she asked him suddenly. Harry grinned to himself. He knew she'd be bothered by him saying that. She liked to win fair and square just as much as he did.
"Nah, I didn't," he began, and he could feel Ginny's pleasure. "You actually did wrong-foot me that time. Pretty unlucky, but yeah, you did beat me fairly."
"Sure did," came Sirius's cheeky reply. "She kicked your arse real good," he sniggered. He was holding a bottle of butterbeer and he leant casually against the heater.
"I'm aware of that, Sirius," Harry told him blandly.
Sirius chuckled to himself. "Nah, it was a good game, though. Everyone played well." he seemed to think about something for a few seconds. "Did you know - up until today, I hadn't played Quidditch for about twenty years."
Harry smirked. "That would explain why you were so bad, then."
"Very funny, Harry," Sirius joked, leaning over to ruffle Harry's already messy hair. "That was a good one..." He grinned fondly at his god-son, before shaking his head and taking another swig from his bottle. "Anyway, gotta dash," he announced suddenly, hoisting himself away from the heater. "I've already said good-bye to everyone else. Or those that weren't locked in bedrooms, anyway," he winked at Harry good-naturedly.
"You've got to go already?" Harry found himself complaining. "You've only been here a few hours!"
Sirius shrugged. "Yeah, can't stay around for too long. Gotta get back to the house, feed Buckbeak, that sort of thing."
Harry gave a disappointed sigh. "Right-o," he said quietly. Sirius moved forward and gave Harry a big, manly hug. "It's been great to see you, Harry. Been some time, hey mate?" Harry nodded, grinning again. "Remember what I said," he added quietly, before turning to go. "Good to see you too, Ginny," he smiled at her and then headed for the door, where he wrapped his cloak around himself and picked up his Firebolt. "Seeya soon, guys," he waved goodbye and then opened the door and was gone. Harry couldn't help but feel a great sadness descend on him at the absence of Sirius, and he also felt a uneasiness settle in the pit of his stomache at Sirius's words. "Remember what I said". He knew he was talking about Lucius Malfoy, but he found that he didn't want to remember what Sirius had said at all.
Ginny turned around to face him, her arms going around his neck. He decided to think about what Sirius had said later; right now, he had his beautiful girlfriend in his arms, and he wasn't going to waste that. He reached out and stroked her cheek with his fingertips, brushing back the wild and tangled hair from her face. Ginny closed her eyes at his touch and eagerly anticipated the kiss which came moments later. However, just as they were getting going, a pair of socks hit Harry in the back of the head.
"That's disgusting you two! Eugh!" Fred and George were howling their affront on the lounge room couch, obviously rather revolted. "Get a room, you sickos. Filthy..."
Harry turned back to Ginny and smiled. "Shall we?" he picked up two bottle of Butterbeer from the table and together, they made their way upstairs.
"So," Ginny smiled, turning to face Harry with her hands clasped in his. "Ready to go in and face everyone?"
Harry grinned sofly. "I feel I could face anyone right now, Gin," he answered tenderly. They both walked together the rest of the way up the garden path, to the door which was prompty thrown open by Hermione. She had a knowing smile on her face as she eyed them and their clasped hands watchfully.
"Looks like you two sorted it out, then," she grinned to herself.
"Sure did," Harry answered her with a smug smile of his own. Ginny rolled her eyes good-naturedly at him, then turned to Hermione.
"Where's Ron? I haven't seen him much at all this morning."
Hermione's smile broadened. "Lord knows where he is at the moment. He was last seen chasing Fred and George down the drive-way, after he'd had enough of having their snowballs ditched at him through the kitchen window."
Ginny snorted with laughter. "Are they going to be back in time for lunch?"
Hermione shrugged non-concernedly. "They might be. But if Ron catches them, they might NOT be."
Harry glanced out the window. "Looks like they're coming back now. But none of them look very happy..."
Sure enough, Ron, Fred and George came tramping grumpily through the kitchen door, wet with snow and wearing very grouchy expressions. Harry let out a very ill-concealed choke of laughter. "What happened to you?" he asked Ron jovially.
"Thanks for the help, Harry," Ron glared at him as he pulled his boots off, not bothering to answer the immediate question.
"I was indisposed at the time," Harry blushed to himself, catching Ginny's twinkling, laughing eyes.
"Cool," Ron answered vaguely, obviously having just smelt Christmas Dinner. "Well I'm starving. I could eat a horse and frighten the rider," he shouted as he made his way into the kitchen and sat down at the table, laden with candles and a rich red table cloth.
Mrs Weasley was still sieving the gravy when Mr Weasley came in the door with a huge beanie hung over his eyes. He tripped over the cat and almost managed to knock a baking dish off the bench before Mrs Weasley came to the rescue and pulled the beanie quickly off his head. Hermione, Harry and Ginny could only laugh to each other and Ron was under the table in fits of laughter.
"Lunch is ready, everyone!" Yelled Mr Weasley, "Harry, Ginny, go and get Fleur and Bill would you please?"
When everyone was properly seated around the long table, after a long debacle of actually getting everyone there, Mr and Mrs Weasley brought out the trays and baking dishes of Christmas turkey and roast vegetables.
Harry and Ginny sat at the far end of the table next to each other. Ron and Hermione sat to the left of them. Harry looked at the enormous spread of food which was layed out before them. Now he was no cook to say the least, but Harry thought that there was enough food there to feed well over forty people. Not that cold turkey and bubble and squeak were a bad leftover, it was just the fact that it would take them weeks to finish that much food.
However, Harry found himself entirely wrong when the entire family simply dove into the food at an alarming rate. Mrs Weasley was trying to yell "mind your manners!" but she was soon drowned out amongst the excited chatter and clanging of various utensils. Harry served Ginny first, then himself. Ron, who was trying to reach rudely over the other side of the table, had piled his plate so high that Hermione, whose head was actually out of her book, looked at him in disgust and, like always, had to comment about it.
"Ron, I'm sure that the food's not going to disappear," she said, revolted. "You're being really piggish. I can't even see your plate anymore!"
"Yeah, Ron," called out George from the other side of the table. "You don't see US piling our plates that high, do you??" Both twins, of course, had plates piled every bit as high as Rons'. In fact, Freds' seemed a little bigger and some of his roasted pumpkin was on a bit of a lean out to the right. Everyone, including Mr Weasley, gawked at them with looks of half amusement, half disgust.
Harry kept squeezing Ginnys' hand under the table, throughout the entire dinner and at one point their touching of each other would have looked extremely obvious, had it not been for Bill and Fleur, who certainly didn't care that other people were watching them. Rather off-putting when people were eating and they were soon told by both Mr and Mrs Weasley that they could do that sort of behaviour when they were away from the kitchen table!
Harry had never tasted anything so wonderful as the Christmas Dinner in his entire life. Mrs Weasley had baked an amazing dinner which was branded with a homely flavour, and despite Harry's prediction on the amount of food left over, there seemed to be only one small tray of baked potatoes and one of parsnips, a smidgen of turkey and the crumbs off the Christmas pudding left over.
As it turned out, Harry and Ginny were landed with the dishes. It was not as bad as it sounded, and Harry found it quite fun using his magic for the first time. The only miss-hap the both of them had was when Harry accidently dropped an old jug onto the floor. Directly after that, a wooshing sound came through the front door. Harry knew that sound and he knew who it was.
Sirius Black appeared at the front door, shaggy and messy as ever. He quickly brushed his dark hair out of his face and immediately looked in Harry's direction, his twinkling brown eyes meeting with Harry's green ones. Sirius lay his broomstick down and everyone who was left in the kitchen rushed up to meet him. Those that had since departed, ran in from outside immediately.
"Merry Christmas Guys!!" Sirius yelled.
"MERRY CHRISTMAS SIRIUS!!" Everyone cried ten times louder. Sirius, who was still trying to tame the hair out of his face, handed out small presents to everyone. He would smile everytime someone gave out a yell of joy at the gift that they recieved, and then he would tell that person of what that particular gift would do, or where he found it.
He finally came to Harry, who had just dumped the last load of clean dishes into the cupboard, everyone else had suddenly left the kitchen and gone outside to enjoy the rare sunshine, leaving Harry and Sirius alone.
"Thanks for the present, Sirius, it's awesome," he grinned at him.
"You liked it? I thought you would," Sirius smiled lazily and leaned back against the sink. "Used it yet?"
Harry glanced up at him quickly, a hot flush blooming on his cheeks from the memories Sirius's innocent question conjured up. "Uh, yeah - just before actually," he answered quickly, glancing around to make doubly sure no-one else was present in the room to overhear their conversation.
Sirius caught the flush spreading across Harry's cheeks and grinned at him knowlingly. "Oh, I see," he smiled, his eyes flashing mischeviously. "Good to see my present's being put to good use". Harry blushed harder at the obvious innuendo as Sirius proceded to laugh his head off.
"Shut up," he muttered, turning back to fiddle with a recently-washed mug.
Sirius sniggered. "Bit of a hit with the ladies then, hey Harry?"
Harry almost dropped the mug he had taken to tapping absent-mindedly. "No!"
"Contrary to what I've heard," he grinned again, seeming to be quite delighted with himself. Harry gave him a punch in the arm and walked across the living room to the Christmas tree. He pulled out a wrapped parcel and threw it at Sirius.
"Amuse yourself with that," he told him dryly, before adding, "oh, yeah, and Merry Christmas, to you too."
"Cheers, Harry," said Sirius, pulling the ribbon off and letting it fall to the carpet. "Oh, nice, Harry," he commented as he pulled a new (and clean) shirt out of the wrapping paper. "Very nice." He held it up to his chest and nodded approvingly, pulling the cuffs down to his wrists to make sure it fit. "Should I put it on now?" he asked Harry, grinning again.
Harry shrugged bashfully, pleased that Sirius liked his present so much. "If you want," he said, watching Sirius as he pulled off his tatty green- knitted jumper, exposing his pale, scarred chest.
Harry's eyes narrowed as he surveyed his godfather critically. Sirius stopped what he was doing with his head half-way through the neck-opening (he hadn't bothered to undo the buttons). His eyes darted around the room, half expecting to find another cause for Harry's obvious dismay.
"...What?" Sirius said awkwardly.
Harry frowned and his eyes met those of his Godfather's. "What the hell did they do to you in Azkaban?"
Immediately, Sirius's expression became clouded, and he quickly pulled his head through the opening and smoothed the shirt down. He didn't answer Harry.
"Sirius," Harry pressed. "Is that what they do to prisoners? Beat them up?"
Sirius turned away, suddenly seeming very interested indeed with the Christmas decorations. Harry waited for an answer, as Sirius began fiddling nervously with a stray thread off the couch. "They don't beat you at Azkaban," he began suddenly, causing Harry to jump slightly. He glared into the fireplace. "I got these scars trying to escape. Not for being caught at it." He gave a disgusted laugh. "Dementors can't beat people," he shuddered visibly despite the warmth of the Living Room. "They don't need to,"
Harry didn't know what to say. He stood there, feeling like a right bastard for forcing Sirius to tell him something he so obviously wanted to forget.
"But I'm just glad now that I'm out of that shit-hole," Sirius announced loudly, turning to look at Harry, the lines of age visible on his weathered face. "It took a lot out of me, I tell you what," he laughed shortly and humourlessly. "Speaking of Azkaban, I hear that Lucius Malfoy's on the loose," he said, purposely changing the sugject.
Harry nodded abruptly. "He was let of of Azkaban a while ago. They say he was innocent all along. A Ministry mistake."
Sirius gave him a grim look, shaking his head disgustedly. "Lucius Malfoy could talk his way out of a paper bag. Back on as School Governor, I hear? Ministry compensation, the whole works?"
Harry grimaced. "Yeah," he said quietly.
"You just stay out of his way," Sirius said quickly, his tone causing Harry to look up at him sharply. "I've known him in the past. I know what he can do."
"Me too," Harry remarked quietly, remembering back to his fourth year, at the Riddle's Graveyard.
"Then you'd know what I mean. He's dangerous. Lucius is one of Voldemorts most trusted servants. He's clever, Harry - he has both Voldemort and bloody Fudge behind him, and he's more than capable of murdering any one of you-"
"Do you think that I don't know this?" Harry snapped at him viciously, his voice shaking in sudden anger. "Do you honestly think I sit up in my little dormitory bed and twiddle my thumbs all day long? I'm the one who saw him at Voldemort's re-birth! I know, Sirius! I know better than anybody, better than - than - YOU!"
Sirius sighed, looking very old and tired again. "Yes, yes, I know. Sometimes I really wish you would sit in your dormitory bed and twiddle your thumbs, none the wiser. At least then you'd be out of harm's way," he gave Harry a worried sort of half-smile. "But I know you'll never do that. You're too much like I was. Too much like James."
Harry looked away quickly, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, ok, that's enough of that sentimentality," he said shortly, glaring at the hearth rug moodily. There was an awkward silence between them. He looked back up at Sirius, who was wearing a very curious expression. Harry, completely bemused, gave him a questioningly look, before Sirius burst out laughing. Harry felt a grin tug at his lips but furiously tried to stop it.
"Sentimentality?" Sirius gasped between bouts of laughter. "You're so RIGHT, Harry! God, I never thought of it like that! 'Harry, your Father would have been proud, I'm sure he watches over you and protects you.'" He gave a howl of laughter, and Harry couldn't help but join him this time. Harry straightened up and tried to compose himself. "Sober up, you idiot," he tried to scold Sirius, who was still laughing whole-heartedly. Finally, Sirius straightened and coughed once or twice to clear his throat of stray sniggers.
"Ok, Harry," he began. "Its Christmas, so I'll make a deal with you. I won't talk about Lucius, or Voldemort, if you don't talk anymore about scars and Azkaban, ok?"
Harry grinned for the first time since their unfortunate bend in conversation, and punched Sirius affectionately. "Deal," he said, before grabbing Sirius by the arm as he swayed.
"Come on, you decrepit old man, let's get some dinner into you. "
"Hey, Harry," Fred was saying with cheeky, fake admiration. "Seeing as you're, like... THE youngest Seeker of the century, and, like, THE Boy Who Lived, that, like, automatically makes you Quidditch Captain for our special Christmas match!"
Harry, who had been in the process of putting his boots on for an afternoon out in the snow, raised his eyebrows at him. "Shut up, Fred," he said shortly, shaking his head as the twins dissolved into overly sarcastic girlish giggles.
"We're being serious, Harry!" Fred laughed out loud. "Well, sort of anyway," he sniggered as George gave him a sneery look and a whack on the back. "Nah, anyway - oh, shut up, George - we're seriously having a Christmas Quidditch match. And you're the Captain of one of the teams. So feel priveleged," he concluded, before turning around and leaping over to the others. "He said he'll do it!" he cried to them. Harry smiled and rolled his eyes, before making his way towards the group.
"Ginny's the other Captain." George messaged to him. "Coz she's your girlfriend," he added slyly. Harry gave him a blank look. How did he-?
"That's right, Harry, we all know," Bill laughed, thumping him on the back. "We've known for ages." Harry gave Ginny a panicked look, but she just smiled in an embarrassed way and shrugged slightly.
"How did you-?" he began, but Fred cut him off.
"Bit obvious. Especially when Bill and Fleur are doing 'ze exact zem zing', hey Miss Veela?" Fleur had the decency to blush, while George dissolved once again into hysterical laughter.
"Ok, shut up, you two," Bill ordered them, a little too quickly, his face still holding a tell-tale blush of red. "Let's get this game moving. Ginny, get your arse over here next to Harry, you're picking your teams." Ginny quickly moved to stand next to Harry, giving him a mischievous grin as he glanced down at her.
"Choose your teams and stop perving on each other," Fred complained quickly, annoyed at having to stand in the cold doing nothing.
"Oh - right," Harry stammered. "Uh - Charlie, you're with me," he called to the second oldest Weasley. Charlie walked proudly to Harry's side, obviously pleased to be the first picked.
"Bill," Ginny called, and he moved to stand, just as proudly, beside his team captain.
"Ron," Harry said and watched Ron bound happily to his side.
"Fleur," Ginny stated.
"Hermione."
"Wait a sec!" There was a call from over at the house, and Sirius came striding over. "Aren't I invited to play?" He asked them, eyebrows raised questioningly.
Ginny grinned at him. "Guess who's pick it is, Harry?" she sniggered. "Sirius, you're with me."
Harry scowled. "Fine," he said shortly, glaring at her triumphant face. "You won't win, though," he teased.
"Last two to be picked, that'd be right, hey, George?" Fred was grumbling to his brother. "Nice of them, REAL nice of them..."
"George!" Harry called out.
Fred's face was mutinous. "DEAD last to be picked! I WAS a Hogwart's beater, thanks very much, which is more than I can say for-"
"Fred, get over here, looks like I'm left with you," Ginny laughed as Fred, still grumbling, sulked over to join her team.
The match's rules were a little different to usual, being there less players on each side. On Harry's team, he of course was made Seeker, while Charlie and Hermione were made Chasers. George was their one Beater, and Ron was made their Keeper. On Ginny's team, she, being the team captain, was also made Seeker. Sirius and Fleur were made Chasers, Fred was their Beater, and Bill their Keeper.
The match turned out quite fair. Both Captains had Orbits, both Bill and Charlie had recently purchased Fleetwood Zaps, Fleur owned a Whizzbeevis 360, Ron was on his Nimbus, Sirius on a Firebolt, and Hermione, Fred and George on Cleansweeps. Of course, due to the fact that everyone knew they were on the crappest Brooms on the pitch, the two boys took to mocking Ginny and Harry by proudly showing off their Cleansweeps by doing victory- laps around the treetops. Mr and Mrs Weasley agreed to referee the match, and the goals were made to be two trees on opposite ends of the Quidditch field.
Mr Weasley released the Snitch and the Bludgers, and then, with a resounding blow on his newly-acquired whistle (it came in the Quidditch box Mr and Mrs Weasley had given their children for Christmas), the Quaffle was thrown and the game began.
The pitch exploded with excitement as Charlie, Hermione, Sirius and Fleur all leapt forward on their brooms towards the Quaffle. Charlie reached it first and was quick to pass it to Hermione, who did a surprisingly good job at avoiding Fred's bludger sent straight at her face. She dropped the Quaffle as Mr Weasley blew his whistle. "Penalty to the Potter Team! Fred - you can't do that! And lay off Hermione will you, she hasn't had as much experience as you boys."
Play resumed, and Hermione had a shot at goal. The Quaffle actually seemed as though it might make it through the gap between the trees, before Bill caught it by the tips of his fingers and threw it at Sirius. "Dammit," Hermione swore, and spun around to career (not so carefully this time) up towards the other end, where Sirius and Fleur were peppering Ron's trees with the Quaffle. A goal went through after numerous attempts by Fleur, and the Ginny Team were ten up.
It was very cold up on the broom, away from the heat of play. The Snitch hadn't shown itself at all, and Harry had taken to launching himself at particular shiny snowflakes which looked (at that moment) as if they might turn into Snitches. The trees at the end of the garden path looked very frost-bitten, and Harry - his teeth chattering - couldn't help but commiserate with them. He knew how they felt.
There was a whoop of delight from below, and Harry saw Charlie and Hermione whizzing around their goalposts, having just scored their first goal. Even scores now. Cheering, and clapping from the side-lines, Mr and Mrs Weasley congratulated an elated Hermione on her first goal - ever. Sirius was given the Quaffle, and he took off with it at such a pace that Fleur had trouble keeping up. He threw it to her and she ducked George, who had taken a swipe at her with his Beater's bat, and threw the Quaffle hard at the gap between the trees. However, Ron blocked it by the tail of his broom and Hermione caught it as it dropped, heading off again towards the other end.
Harry glanced towards the sun. It was giving off a golden glow, turning the snow-white trees alight with fiery magnificence, and Harry - just for a moment - gave up looking for the Snitch to concentrate on the beauty of the winter light. He could see Ginny, hovering over by his team's goal posts, her eyes wide open and darting from here to there. He grinned to himself, watching her shake her curly red hair free of snow. She really was quite the loveliest creature he'd ever seen, but he didn't allow himself the luxury of gazing at her for long - afterall, he couldn't give her the chance of catching the Snitch before him and winning the game. He'd never hear the end of it - being beaten by his girlfriend. But he seriously doubted she'd beat him anyway. He was the professional Seeker, not her. He was certain he'd win.
"FRED!" There was a bellow down below, and Harry spun around to watch. Mr Weasley was blowing his whistle repeatedly. "For God's SAKES, Fred, you can't handle the Quaffle when you're a BEATER!" Fred, Quaffle in hand, was glaring down at his father from where he sat, poised on his broom, about to throw the Quaffle at Ron.
"Yeah well, Dad, I can't HIT anyone, and I can't get any points, so where's the fun in life?" he yelled back, turning again to throw the Quaffle at Ron's face.
"And leave your brothers ALONE!" Mrs Weasley yelled at him. Fred gave a frustrated shout and threw the Quaffle to Charlie. "Take the goddamn Quaffle and lose, you sucker," he said bitterly, and turned back to fend off the bludgers.
Mr Weasley shook his head sadly, but Harry could see, even from their distance apart, that he had a smile on his face. The whistle was blown for play to resume, and Charlie quickly scored another goal, making the scores 10-20, the Potter Team's way.
"This is crap." Fred was heard complaining. "Absolute cra- SHIT!" A bludger, hit by George, almost took him off his broom, as he spun around to avoid it. "Funny, funny, Georgey-boy," he snapped at his laughing twin, glowering.
The game was fast-paced and brutal, but quite low-scoring. By 4pm, the Potter Team were on 50, while the Ginny Team were on 30. It was beginning to get dark, and Harry was starting to think, for the first time, that he may not actually catch the Snitch - for the simple reason that his hands were pretty well frozen to his broomstick. Ginny, too, was looking blue around the lips, and he could see her shoulders shaking violently from where he sat gazing numbly around the field. The wind was beginning to pick up, and the clouds hung heavy above them, threatening a downfall of snow. "Snitch, Snitch, show up, would you!" Harry chattered to himself, his body numb.
"Goal!" Hermione was screaming excitedly down below. The Potter's were now on 60-30, but Harry couldn't even grin, he was so frozen. He distinctly heard Ginny's cry of despair as Mr Weasley called the updated scores out, and revelled in it - his team had to win now. If only he could find that-
"No!"
Ginny was careering at a ridiculous speed down the pitch away from him. By the concentrating, furiously determined look on her face, she wasn't feinting - she'd seen the Snitch. Harry spun around and sped after her. He could see the Snitch now, but Ginny was much closer than he was.
"Give up, Ginny!" He called out to her as he gathered speed, gaining on her from the left. "I'm going to get this Snitch first if it costs me my life!"
Ginny didn't turn around to answer him, instead, she screamed out against the roaring of the wind speeding by them, "Harry, there is no WAY you're getting this one!"
Harry was close enough to grab onto the back of her robes. "Yeah right," he muttered, his eyes feverishly focussed on nothing but the golden ball ahead of them.
Suddenly, the Snitch veered sharply to the right, and before Harry could react, Ginny had leapt off her broom and launched herself, mid-air, at the Snitch. He was on the wrong side of her, he realised too late. Completely, unluckily wrong-footed, and he knew then that he didn't have a chance. He watched in helpless dismay as her hand closed over the sparkling metal ball, and she shrieked triumphantly as she began to fall downwards. The drop wasn't much - five feet or so - and she fell onto soft snow. Her hand shot up, still tightly gripping the Snitch, and she laughed out loud to herself. Harry could tell that she was utterly amazed - and bloody cocky - that she'd beaten him.
Ginny's team of Bill, Fleur, Fred and Sirius sped towards her on their brooms, cheering and screaming that they'd "beaten Potter", leaping off to clap her back and congratulate her as if she were a triumphant warrior.
Ron yelled at Harry from over at the trees. "Harry - why the hell didn't you get that Snitch?" His face was crestfallen, as was Charlie's, Hermione's and George's. "You're meant to WIN, Harry - not lose it to your girlfriend! Are you the Pro-Seeker or what?"
Harry opened his mouth, trying to think of something to justify his loss, but laughter was choking his voice. "I - uh, I let her win," he stammered. "Felt- felt sorry for her team."
Ron gave him a disbelieving look, shook his head and sank to the ground. "Well, that sucks. You shouldn't have been so chivalrous, Harry. Always gotta be the gentleman, don't you?"
Harry couldn't help but grin to himself. He flew to the ground and hopped off his broom, moving to shake hands with the winning captain. "Well done," he said to Ginny, his eyes twinkling into her excited ones. She was breathing hard, her face glowing with elation, her hair all over the place from the fast and furious flight. "But I let you win," he sniggered. Ginny narrowed her eyes at him, but her smile didn't faulter. "If it makes you feel better, keep telling yourself that, Harry Potter," she answered primly. "But meanwhile, if you don't mind, I'm off to get drunk with my triumphant team-mates."
"Oh no, you're NOT," Mrs Weasley had come over to congratulate the winning side. "Your celebration consists of a Christmas Bonbon, Ginevra Weasley, not a bottle of your Father's firewhisky."
"Oh, MUM," Fred began, highly affronted. "We just beat Harry Potter - Quidditch Extraordinaire, The Boy Who Lived! You can't honestly expect us to just sit around cracking bonbons and watching the Carol Singers! You've gotta be kidding!"
"Sounds like a nice night to me..." Mr Weasley began, but was promptly cut off by ten voices all arguing at once. "All right, all right, you can have some butterbeer," Mr Weasley yelled over the top of them. "But nothing more. No-" he shouted, as everyone commenced their complaining. "That's the way it's gotta be, my little loves. Butterbeer for the lot of you."
"And don't argue!" Mrs Weasley warned them all. "Now get inside right now, before you all catch your death of cold."
Everyone filed back into the warmth of the Burrow and huddled around the fireplace. "That was actually quite a good grab, you know, Ginny," Ron admitted after his hands had thawed out.
Harry gave him a hurt look. "Hey - what are you talking about - we lost!" he joked to him.
Ron nodded acceptingly. "Yeah, but you have to give credit when credit's due. And it's not often that Ginny beats you, Harry. It's not often that anyone beats you."
"Ginny, maybe you should be a Seeker?" Hermione added.
"Oh, fair go!" Harry cried. "You are forgetting that I'M Gryffindor's current Seeker, Hermione. And I'm not going anywhere."
"I'm just saying that Ginny has talent to become a wonderful Seeker, nothing more, so let's just leave it at that, shall we, Harry?" Hermione answered kindly.
"Let's," Harry commented dryly, before turning to wrap his arms around Ginny. She leant into him and watched as everyone wandered off to different parts of the house. "You didn't really let me win, did you Harry?" she asked him suddenly. Harry grinned to himself. He knew she'd be bothered by him saying that. She liked to win fair and square just as much as he did.
"Nah, I didn't," he began, and he could feel Ginny's pleasure. "You actually did wrong-foot me that time. Pretty unlucky, but yeah, you did beat me fairly."
"Sure did," came Sirius's cheeky reply. "She kicked your arse real good," he sniggered. He was holding a bottle of butterbeer and he leant casually against the heater.
"I'm aware of that, Sirius," Harry told him blandly.
Sirius chuckled to himself. "Nah, it was a good game, though. Everyone played well." he seemed to think about something for a few seconds. "Did you know - up until today, I hadn't played Quidditch for about twenty years."
Harry smirked. "That would explain why you were so bad, then."
"Very funny, Harry," Sirius joked, leaning over to ruffle Harry's already messy hair. "That was a good one..." He grinned fondly at his god-son, before shaking his head and taking another swig from his bottle. "Anyway, gotta dash," he announced suddenly, hoisting himself away from the heater. "I've already said good-bye to everyone else. Or those that weren't locked in bedrooms, anyway," he winked at Harry good-naturedly.
"You've got to go already?" Harry found himself complaining. "You've only been here a few hours!"
Sirius shrugged. "Yeah, can't stay around for too long. Gotta get back to the house, feed Buckbeak, that sort of thing."
Harry gave a disappointed sigh. "Right-o," he said quietly. Sirius moved forward and gave Harry a big, manly hug. "It's been great to see you, Harry. Been some time, hey mate?" Harry nodded, grinning again. "Remember what I said," he added quietly, before turning to go. "Good to see you too, Ginny," he smiled at her and then headed for the door, where he wrapped his cloak around himself and picked up his Firebolt. "Seeya soon, guys," he waved goodbye and then opened the door and was gone. Harry couldn't help but feel a great sadness descend on him at the absence of Sirius, and he also felt a uneasiness settle in the pit of his stomache at Sirius's words. "Remember what I said". He knew he was talking about Lucius Malfoy, but he found that he didn't want to remember what Sirius had said at all.
Ginny turned around to face him, her arms going around his neck. He decided to think about what Sirius had said later; right now, he had his beautiful girlfriend in his arms, and he wasn't going to waste that. He reached out and stroked her cheek with his fingertips, brushing back the wild and tangled hair from her face. Ginny closed her eyes at his touch and eagerly anticipated the kiss which came moments later. However, just as they were getting going, a pair of socks hit Harry in the back of the head.
"That's disgusting you two! Eugh!" Fred and George were howling their affront on the lounge room couch, obviously rather revolted. "Get a room, you sickos. Filthy..."
Harry turned back to Ginny and smiled. "Shall we?" he picked up two bottle of Butterbeer from the table and together, they made their way upstairs.