Harry sat folding and unfolding Lupin's letter nervously under the table, accepting vats of hot soup and platters of fried eggs from Mrs. Weasley without a murmur. Somehow word had meandered into the ears of the Weasley elders that Harry and Ginny were now something of an item. Considering how much he had overstayed his welcome throughout the years, they were taking it in stride. In fact, Mrs. Weasley took it as her job to make sure that her daughter's "sweetheart," as she insisted on saying, was alive and hearty. Harry was fed to a point bordering unhealthy levels each mealtime, but he thought it would be rather ungrateful of him to protest.
It was a happy scene to observe, the people sitting by him. He wondered if he would ever have a chance to join in, once he returned to Grimmauld Place. True, he would offer it up to the Order so that they wouldn't have to change headquarters, but how many warm and satisfying conversations could be held between Aurors who are either in hiding or preparing to go out into battle? Now that Sirius and Dumbledore were gone, it was not likely that any one would make it a point to talk and entertain him.
The stacks of toasts were quickly diminishing, and Harry felt a squirming monster erupt into life in his stomach. He wanted to tell the rest of the Weasleys of his plan once they had finished eating, but he never counted on how fast they would eat. He supposed the twins were especially starved from weeks alone in a flat without their mum's cooking. It was hard to get annoyed at them snorting down kippers for eating too much. Usually they held whispered conversations, punctuated by soft and clever laughs. Since they came home for Bill's wedding, Harry noticed they weren't focusing too much on joke-making.
"Psst—Harry!" Harry took back that last thought. The meaning in George's two words was unmistakable. He looked up from the parchment on his lap, and found George and Fred looking at him with wide grins they were trying to hide from Mrs. Weasley.
"Don't look at us. It will only make it look suspicious," said Fred from the corner of his mouth. Harry returned to his eggs, and turned a fascinated ear to them. He had a sneaking suspicion that this had something to do with the joke shop.
George looked furtively around, resting his eyes on his mother slightly longer than anywhere else. Satisfied, he spoke again. "Now, normally, we would have you come down to Diagon Alley—"
"—But this is just too important to wait. We know what you're planning on doing, Harry." Harry's fork slipped on the greasy plate at this, and felt a justifiable spasm of anger.
Fred's tone was apologetic. "Our conscience is poking a stick at us for once, mind you, but when we lowered that wonderful ear of ours, we didn't know that it was you."
"We were sort of hoping that Tonks and Lupin would show more—ah—affection, if you know what I mean, if they were all alone. We thought that you, Ron, and Hermione were those two."
Harry inclined his head toward Fred, and continued to butter his toast silently. George gently toed what seemed to be a small rubber ball on the floor, and lifted his eyebrows pointedly. He slyly pushed Harry's napkin off when Harry caught on.
"Er—excuse me—" Harry muttered. "Napkin fell." He bent down to grab the ball, and saw Fred lowering his fingers with a note crumpled up in it. Harry snatched the paper, too, and surfaced. Ginny was looking at him confusedly, so Harry smiled back reassuringly, forgetting that the napkin was still on the floor.
With the second piece of parchment in his lap and the rubber ball in his palm, Harry put down his fork and ducked his head slightly when he thought no one was looking. He cautiously opened up Fred's note:
This is our brand new product, hot off the lab (Harry assumed that they now had a special room to contain their random blasts) and not even on the shelves. It's another free sample. Use it wisely, Harry—we don't often give people our pranks to help guard their safety. And we don't often tell people to do anything wisely, because that would be terribly hypocritical.
The rest of the letter explained how the ball worked, but Harry already heard the details from Hermione. Looking up, he saw with shock that Ginny had her eyes narrowed, and the rest of the table was suddenly quiet. He glanced at Fred again, but a noncommittal look of innocence had graced the twin's face in the short space of time.
"What do you have there, Harry?" Mr. Weasley asked mildly.
"Uh . . ."
"Aren't you going to tell your own girlfriend what's going on?" Ginny's eyes flashed dangerously. Harry remembered with a jolt that the napkin was still folded, limply, on the ground. He fidgeted and cleared his throat.
"I think this is a good time for me to tell you that I'm going to Godric's Hollow. You know, to visit the house and my parents' graves." He looked squarely at Ginny, who now widened her eyes in astonishment.
"You're leaving now?" she exclaimed. The same feeling that consumed him when he tried to break up with her at Dumbledore's funeral came back. Of course, he should have guessed that weeks together in the same house would bring them together, whether he wanted to or not. They simply drifted back into their relationship, but Harry was hesitant to bring up that topic again. Ginny's red hair floated crazily in front of her face, and she brushed it away impatiently, locking Harry in her gaze.
"Well—maybe not now, but in a few days," Harry continued, wanting to look someplace other than Ginny. Mrs. Weasley seemed to forget that she was ladling soup into Ron's tea saucer and not his bowl, but Ron wasn't noticing. Ron and Hermione were staring at each other, occasionally shrugging and gesturing at Harry.
"When did you decide you would do this, Harry?" said Mrs. Weasley. Her eyes filled with tears, and when she tried to wipe her cheeks, a fleck of creamy soup flew off from the ladle. She ignored this, which was very atypical of her.
"Harry's been thinking about it for some time, am I right?" interrupted Lupin. Harry nodded.
"Oh—Harry—" Harry just managed to let go of the fork dangling between his fingers before Mrs. Weasley threw herself at him, having narrowly avoided being impaled by the fork. A muffled protest was all Harry could achieve.
Mr. Weasley leaned over and seized his wife's hand away from Harry, who breathed a sigh of relief (and survival). She proceeded to honk into her apron before being lead away quietly by Lupin.
The rest of the table was deathly quiet, with Mrs. Weasley's sobbing reaching a discernable climax at certain intervals. Harry winced as he felt Ginny's glare pass over him.
"You're telling me today." Ginny's question ended in a flat statement. "You've been thinking over this for a long time and this is it."
Harry wondered why she was acting so angrily. He told her, didn't he? He mutely supposed that this was one of those feminine mysteries that Hermione forever had to patiently work out for him. Perhaps she deserved a more special announcement, made privately just for her? But then, so did everyone else. She couldn't possibly expect him to go through this multiple times.
"Ginny, we didn't really know for sure until today, either," Ron said loudly. Beside him, Hermione grimaced. Ginny's hair tossed lightly in the air as she swiveled to face her brother.
"He told you first?"
Harry thought he heard Hermione whispering, "Ron, you idiot, now look what you've done." Ron turned red around the neck and mumbled something incoherent.
"Why wasn't I there, Harry?" Ginny said. "Why wasn't I there when you told Ron and Hermione?"
"You—you were—sleeping," Harry stumbled lamely. She kicked him under the table. "I mean . . . well, Ron thought that if you heard from me privately, you would make up your mind to follow me."
"So you chose breakfast time to break this news publicly, hoping that our mum's presence would stop me from doing anything foolish. Ron, since when did I become so predictable to you?"
"Since you came to the Burrow from St. Mungo's," Ron said, "and because I'm your brother."
"Sorry to disappoint you, Ron, but mum's not in this room." What was that supposed to mean? Harry had a feeling that there was more to this. "I'm still going with Harry."
"Ginny, don't do anything foolish." Mrs. Weasley briskly trotted up to the kitchen, although telltale signs of tears dampened her apron. Lupin followed behind. "This is very important for Harry to do alone; why else would he have gone through this trouble to tell you?"
Lupin nodded from behind Mrs. Weasley, and Harry guessed that he had just told her everything.
"What's so important that he has to do this alone? Mum, Hermione, you two both know that Harry has that martyr in him. We went through this at Dumbledore's funeral, remember?" Ginny said, angrily pushing away Ron's hand. "There's nothing you should have to do alone!"
Hermione suddenly stood up and seized Ginny on her shoulder, jutting her chin out to the room Lupin and Mrs. Weasley emerged from. "There's something you should know before you say things like that, Ginny. We care about Harry too, you know!"
Ginny numbly let herself be shoved along by Hermione. Harry stared down at his plate, knowing that about ten pairs of eyes were trained upon him. He realized that he distinctly hated having other people talk about him. Granted, it was not exactly behind his back, but he had suffered enough of "the Chosen One, by Rita Skeeter, special correspondent," and the likes. He did not appreciate people holding whispered conversations drenched in pity and shallow understanding about him. Fred and George finally broke the silence.
"You have the (cough) in your pocket, right?" George said. "Read the (cough) too."
Fred winked at Harry. "And if anything happens en route to or at Godric's Hollow, and you live to tell about it, then—well, our work here for you is done."
Mrs. Weasley shot a dangerous glare at her twin sons. "Fred!"
"The free sample's yours, anyway," he whispered while George quickly spoke an excuse. Ron appeared to be looking at something outside of the window.
"Look!"
The dozen or so pairs of eyes moved to the window, where an official-looking owl flew in cleanly. With an undeniably smug gesture, it smoothed down its wings with a ruffle of its head, and confidently held out its left leg after perching on the windowsill. Mr. Weasley hurried over.
"Ginny's OWL results," he said tersely. As if she somehow magically heard the words from the other room, Hermione stuck her head out.
"What?" Ginny shot into their view as Hermione pushed her out, looking more eager than Ginny. Ginny blinked and turned her head to Harry, mutely acknowledging his decision. She calmly accepted the letter from Hermione, who was obviously itching to see if anyone of the Weasleys would best her.
Yet again, a tense silence stuffed the kitchen until it was likely to squeeze out of its corners. Mrs. Weasley looked as if she couldn't take another shock at this level. Harry was glad when everyone continued to stare at Ginny instead of him. She drew out a beige piece of parchment, and the owl fluttered away pompously.
Hermione, disappointed at the fact that the paper wasn't see-through, cried out after a few moments, "Well?"
A sniff came in response, as well as the letter. It slid the length of the table to Mr. Weasley's place. He slowly flipped it right side up, and glanced over it.
"Well done, Ginny." Mr. Weasley smiled at his daughter. "Nine OWLs." He clapped exuberantly, like a child given a reward at the end of a difficult day. The letter was tossed to Mrs. Weasley in turn, who stood up to hug Ginny. Hermione, Ron, and Harry put their foreheads together to see the results.
ORDINARY WIZARDING LEVEL RESULTS
Pass Grades Fail Grades
OUTSTANDING (O) POOR (P)
EXCEEDS EXPECTATAIONS (E)DREADFUL (D)
ACCEPTABLE (A) TROLL (T)
Ginevra Molly Weasley has achieved:
Astronomy O
Care of Magical Creatures E
Charms O
Defense Against the Dark Arts O
DivinationA
Herbology E
History of Magic E
Potions E
Transfiguration O
Well, Harry thought, I always knew she was cleverer than me. Ginny snatched the paper away from Hermione before Harry could compliment her on it, and tried to frown.
"My grades are supposed to be private, you see," she remarked, "So I don't exactly appreciate having you guys stick your faces into it this way." Harry could tell, though, that she was secretly pleased. Hermione looked even happier, although probably not for Ginny.
"You—you did really well," squeaked Hermione. She stuck her hands in her pockets, as if not knowing what to do with them.
"She means, she's glad that you did good, but gladder that she still holds the record." Ron shook his head, apparently resigning himself to Hermione's obsessive academic competitiveness. Hermione muttered a quiet protest, but kept her shining eyes on the floor.
"Well, you did better than I did, Ginny," Harry said, smiling slightly. Ginny did not smile back, but gave him an appraising look. Harry understood this to be her approval and gratitude. He felt an urge to go to her and hug her or kiss her on the cheek, but obviously this was out of the question, her parents keeping an attentive eye on both of them. They stood like this, Harry cracking a grin almost leery from trying to express more than he could, Ginny staring coolly back. Lupin and Tonks stood up, too, since no one was sitting with them. Mrs. Weasley did not even look while her wand swept the table clean.
"Molly, thanks for having us over," said Tonks. "We'll be leaving soon."
"So soon?" exclaimed Mrs. Weasley automatically. "But you just came!"
"We have business for the Order," Lupin said shortly. He shrugged on his coat and helped Tonks with hers. "That was a lovely wedding, Arthur."
No one said anything in reply, because there was never anything to discuss when it came to the Order of the Phoenix. The void caused by Dumbledore had the members scurrying for unity and organization, and Grimmauld Place was still vacated. Harry reminded himself that once he returned from Godric's Hollow, he would have to open its doors again. There was also the problem of Kreacher, who was probably back, and Mundungus Fletcher, who Harry suspected was still nicking Black family heirlooms. Lupin conjured his and Tonks's luggage and Apparated, arm linked with hers. Harry fingered the precious letter in his pocket, and felt a flood of warmth towards his old professor and his father's old friend.
Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione retreated to Ron's room after breakfast. Ron's orange room blasted into view familiarly, but not even Hermione bothered to blink furiously or make a snide comment. The absence of the attic-dwelling ghoul made a giant silence that they struggled to fill by taking longer than normal to settle in a chair or jump on a bed. Someone coughed, and someone else shuffled their feet. Harry was just about to open his mouth, albeit hesitantly, when Ginny and all of her glorious auburn hair flew into his face. He imagined that Ron was shocked into immobility and Hermione into a helpless noise.
"Ginny!" Harry adjusted his hands apprehensively around her, and prayed that Ron would not attack him when he recovered.
A/N: Sorry, it's been a while, but at least it's quite long . . . things will be getting more exciting later. Again, thanks for the reviews! Oh—and, incidentally, that really is Ginny's full name. I looked it up, and seeing as she's the first daughter in many Weasley generations, she must be very clever in her studies. That's why I was very liberal with her grades.