A/N – Again, this is a chapter that took awhile… but it was heaps of fun to write, and I hope it's worth the wait for our faithful reviewers. To Jessica and Dimgwrthien Adeline, thanks so much for the reviews… WardenMistress – Sorry it's so long! It's just so much fun to write, we never want to stop! Kady Rilla Wholi – We're so glad you like the fic! Bronfelen – We love you, too! Ron definitely is the man… and Draco's pretty awesome too. For a stuck-up little prat, he's so much fun to write. Everyone who's reviewed in the past… thanks a whole lot! You're just awesome – have a cookie. You deserve it.
Anyway, back to this chapter… For the more Harry/Ginny-oriented, this chapter's full of them, and Draco, once again, makes an appearance. The title also has very little to so with the main plot of this chapter (wait… we have a plot?), but it's really the only thing that could fit. At all. Without further adieu… read on… and enjoy!
"A Box Full of Sharp Objects"
Ginny walked down the hall towards the kitchen, red hair swishing like a perky Marcia Brady, double-checking every detail for Hermione's Giant Blow-out Bridal Party Extravaganza – term coined by Ginevra Weasley, all rights reserved. Hermione was, now that the wedding was fast approaching, a quivering blob: ready to cry at anything, or else blow up at the slightest thing. As maid-of-honor, Ginny owed it to her closest friend to get her perked for the wedding again, happy as ever – er, happy as she could be when dealing with Ron and his on-again, off-again stupidity. Lavender had given her the idea of a make-over, with beauty tips and facial cream, but, seeing just how well that went over with Ron and the male crew, Ginny quickly vetoed the idea.
This was going to be, Ginny knew, fantastic. She had planned an all-you-can eat dinner buffet and a live orchestra at the ritziest country club in town, and she had bought them a giant present – a wide-screen Muggle 'television', whose purpose remained unknown to Ginny, but she had been reassured by Harry that it would give Ron something to do while he loafed around looking for a job, and maybe Hermione would become a bit of an addict, if all went well. Ginny had a sneaking suspicion that Harry wanted the 'television' to suit his newfound soap-opera obsession. Maybe living for years without T.V. had turned Harry's brain to mush, but Ginny found it easier to agree.
Ginny squealed. This was going to be more like a party than just an ordinary wedding shower. And it would be sure to lift Hermione's spirits.
She ran her finger down the checklist she had gotten from José, the event coordinator. He had outright refused to let her see the price list when they had been going over and over things like filet mignon for everyone, but thought that maybe she should take a look at it before the owners confronted her for the money the day of the shower. Not that it was a problem or anything, he assured her, but just essential. 'I mean, I have pulls, you can always pay after, if you need to, no rush, but they want a sum of the money on the day of the shower.'
Well, no way, José. Ginny Weasley paid on time. After all, the total amount only came to… £8,872.30?
A dry lump was already forming in her throat as she looked over all the calculations, everything accounted for. So maybe she didn't need the ice sculpture swans, but they were pretty… and she wanted the professional decorating, she had to have it… it was that stupid television that Harry practically forced on her. Damn Muggles and their stupid inventions: damn Harry and his ridiculous schemes to get what he wanted.
Ginny's eyes glazed over as she continued to curse everyone on earth, starting with the obvious, José and herself, and then Ron, for making Hermione so crazy that she needed this huge shower, and then the British government and economy for making icy swans and lace doilies so expensive. A maniacal, fanatical gleam rose in her eyes, equivalent to the scale of a mad television evangelist: it was all television's fault. It was all their fault (whoever they were).
But mostly, it was Harry's. And Harry would either help her pay, or suffer the consequences.
-
Harry looked up from his spare piece of parchment: a large owl diverted his attention from plans of killing Snape and world domination. Ah, well, it wasn't healthy to be focused on one task for so long.
The owl nipped his finger, and he sighed, pulling a tiny scrap of parchment off its leg. He pondered over it for a second, patted the owl's head, and leaned back in his chair: these suspension-causing maneuvers helped build… well, suspense. And, though Harry had had enough suspense for a lifetime, between his countless defeats of the Dark Lord and never knowing if his godfather was alive, the whole bit, he was one who not just caused delays, but liked them a little bit, too. So he sat.
And sat. No one wrote him, save Hermione and Ron, and the occasional 'Try-Me!' subscription for the "Daily Prophet". True, it could be some fanmail that had leaked through the faulty post-owl system, but more than likely –
Aw, forget it. Without another thought, Harry opened the parchment and scanned the tidy-but-hastily-scrawled writing. And stared.
And stared.
And sighed. Someone was sending him threatening letters again. It was getting old, fast.
But wait just a gosh-darn minute! It was signed… 'Meet-me-at-the-church-curb-in-St. Catchpole-I-need-money-If-you-don't-show-don't-expect-a-Christmas-present-Love-Ginny.' Ginny? Weasley?
Not exactly the most threatening note of all times, but then again, Ginny wasn't really an imposing person. Nevertheless, Harry figured he should comply with her wishes, especially if she needed money and was in trouble.
He sighed again. Plotting world domination could wait.
-
Harry strode right up the cobbled main streets, following a spire protruding into the sky that signified the really old, really big church Ginny had been talking about. It had only taken a few seconds to Apparate there, but as he'd had to be careful to do it in a place no one would notice, he still had to walk through town and actually find his best friend's sister. Which, sadly enough, was proving increasingly more difficult than he had predicted.
There was no one around the church, except for an old, blind beggar with dark glasses who was sitting on the curb, a tattered suitcase lying in front of him. No sign of a fiery redhead bent on hitting him up for money she assumed he owed her.
Hold on… that wasn't a blind beggar, Harry knew. The suitcase spread almost practically in the street wasn't old and tattered; it wasn't new, but it wasn't tattered. Too badly, anyway. And those glasses… were not regular glasses. He squinted in the sunlight; those looked exactly like the sunglasses he had given Ginny the Christmas before, with the silvery monogrammed 'GW' in the corners. And he knew that fiery hair hastily shoved up under that little bowler…
And he knew he knew who the person was when she lowered the glasses and took off the hat and exclaimed, "Harry!" eliciting shocked looks from several passers-by. I mean, come on, the red hair was a dead giveaway. Who else was a natural redhead with natural curls?
"Ginny?" he questioned. She nodded, but pulled the glasses back over her eyes.
"Shh," she hissed. "Alms for the poor…."
Harry raised an eyebrow and took her glasses. "What are you doing? And you stole that from Robin Hood, you know."
"I know that, but I don't know how you know," she huffed, closing up her suitcase as strange looks were thrown her way. "Come on, follow me, we're being watched…."
Harry raised an eyebrow – again – and looped his arm through Ginny's: the two talked under their breath as they strolled along, seemingly merrily. Too bad it was more like a secret spy meeting for the monetarily challenged. "So, what were you doing?" he repeated.
Ginny looked back and forth. "Well, it's like this. I planned this big shower for Hermione, and then I realised how much it cost…"
"Don't tell me," he interrupted, "You dressed up as a blind person to win sympathy – and pence."
Ginny squirmed. "Well, when you put it that way…."
-
"Oh, look how beautiful!" Katie exclaimed, as she and the other bridesmaids ushered Hermione into the gorgeously decorated hall where the shower was taking place.
"Katie, will you please stop staring at your ring!" Angelina demanded in an exasperated voice.
Katie jumped and looked up from her engagement ring. "Oh, sorry!" She looked around the hall and gasped. "Oh, it's lovely!"
"Ginny did a wonderful job," Alicia said admiringly.
Blue streamers and ribbons hung from the ceiling and bedecked the crystal chandeliers. Blue and sliver glitter littered the blue tablecloths, and each table had a unique centerpiece - exquisitely carved ice sculptures in the shape of swans. A white arch stood in the middle of the room, flanked by two plastic trees adorned with lights. Two white chairs, one marked 'Bride' and the other 'Groom' sat in front of the arch. Blue balloons floated up near the ceiling. In fact, almost everything was blue - it was Hermione's favourite colour. As the bride-to-be took in this glamorous sight, her heart lifted and her bad mood melted away.
"Oooooh, look!" Parvati squealed, pointing to one of the corners, where a stage had been erected. Standing on it were a piano, drums, a cello, a harp, and a flute.
Lavender sighed enviously. "A live orchestra's going to be playing? I have got to have Ginny organize my wedding shower!"
"Speaking of which, where is she?" Alicia asked curiously as the girls set down the bulging paper bags they had brought with them and began unloading party favours and door prizes for the guests.
Luna drifted dreamily from table to table, dropping bags of Honeydukes' best chocolate bites at each place. "Probably gathering together more magnificent items... this is even more like the Queen of Snorlak's ceremonial crowning than anyone could hope..." The others exchanged slightly exasperated looks and rolled their eyes: sometimes, Luna got a little too caught up in her imagination.
Delighted squeals came from the doorway just as the bride and her bridesmaids finished organizing the treats. Mrs. Weasley and Mrs. Granger were there, flanked by Mrs. Weasley's three other daughters-in-law and Hermione's grandmother.
"Look at ze ice sculptures!" Fleur cried in delight, throwing her arms wide and doing an odd sort of pirouette across the room to the arch, where Hermione stood eyeing her nervously, wondering if perhaps the real Fleur had been kidnapped and replaced with a light-headed döppleganger from another planet. But her thoughts were cut short as Fleur pulled her into a hug and kissed both her cheeks.
Mrs. Weasley was beaming as she gazed 'round at all the decorations. "Ginny did a wonderful job... I just hope she can afford it..." Her smile flickered slightly at that disconcerting thought; but she hitched it up as she gave Hermione a warm hug. "How are you doing, dear?"
"All right," Hermione said weakly, being loosed from Mrs. Weasley's grasp only to be pulled into the clutches of her own mother. "Oh - here come the first guests..."
Tonks, along with her mother, Padma Patil, Cho Chang, and Susan Bones, had just entered the hall. She waved merrily and practically dragged her mother across the floor to Hermione. "Wotcher, girls!" she sang gaily, tossing her hair, which today was in a long black ponytail. Andromeda straightened her robes and smiled, shaking hands; at the same time Hannah Abbot and Natalie MacDonald came in, beaming. Rita Skeeter, looking as if she was trying her hardest to hide in the back of the room and not be noticed, skulked along behind them.
Over the next twenty minutes, the rest of the guests arrived in dribs and drabs. Narcissa Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson, both looking as if they had swallowed a lemon, were some of the last to join the party. They didn't say hello to anyone and sat down without looking around. Hermione likewise ignored them.
"Hullo, ladies!"
Hermione closed her eyes in false aggravation and smiled to herself as Sirius' familiar voice rang through the hall; turning to the door she saw Ron and his guests at the door. Almost all of them were there, except for Harry. As the men filed in and took their seats, Hermione gave Ron a panicked look.
"Where's Harry?" she hissed.
Her fianceé shrugged. "He owled me and said something had come up... he'll be along as soon as possible."
"What could he possibly be up to?" Hermione sighed...
-
Gritting his teeth, the Boy-Who-Lived fought down an urge to whip out his wand and curse Ginny into oblivion. "You didn't have enough money to pay for the shower! Ginny, how could you do that!"
The redhead turned her puppy-dog pout on him. "Oh, Harry... it was José! He didn't let me see the price list!"
Harry couldn't turn her down when she was looking at him like that; now he supposed he had a vague idea of how Sirius controlled Remus. He was furious with her, mostly for asking him for money but on a lesser scale for interrupting his plans of a Snape-free planet... He shook his head at her. "Ginny, I don't have that kind of money!"
"Sirius does, borrow it from him!" she sobbed, crumpling José's bill in her hands. "He loves you, he'll let you have it, I just know it!"
"I can't ask him for almost ten thousand pounds!" Harry reached into his pocket, fumbled out a wad of tissues, and thrust them at her.
She took the tissues and mopped her face. "Then help me earn the money!" she ordered.
"How?"
"I'll show you. All we need is this suitcase, a guitar, and some funky clothes..."
-
Twenty minutes later, Harry was fervently wishing that he had his Invisibility Cloak handy. He was standing next to a benchful of people on an Underground platform, strumming the battered guitar he had swiped from his godfather's room minutes ago. To make matters worse, he was dressed in one of Sirius' ruffly white shirts and the beastly blue-and-green striped trousers he and Ron had found so amusing. Perched on his head was a filthy, cast-off hat that Ginny had unearthed from God-knows-where - Harry thought it best not to ask.
But it was Ginny who took the cake, dressed as a gypsy dancer in a hideous purple paisley-print skirt with five yellowing petticoats underneath. A pouffy blue peasant blouse kept slipping its way down her shoulders, and she had to keep hitching at it to keep it from puddling around her waist. Long strings of chunky beads in every colour, some her mother's and some stolen from Sirius, hung around her neck and arms. She was barefoot, a tambourine clutched in one hand. A confused-looking goat, rented from a nearby petting zoo, sat at her feet.
As Harry strummed the guitar, Ginny jerked around in an awkward sort of dance that looked nothing at all like the lithe movements of a real gypsy dancer, banging the tambourine loudly to cover Harry's pathetic guitar-playing skills. Their performance was attracting glances from everybody on the platform - some sympathetic, some annoyed, and others clearly wondering if the two young gypsies were, in fact, insane.
"Here you go, poor dear," a querulous voice spoke from Ginny's side; she tried to suppress a squeal of glee as an old woman dropped a handful of pence into the old suitcase sitting open at the goat's feet.
"Don't encourage them, Mum," the younger woman beside her hissed, taking the old woman by the arm and leading her away. "Honestly, what some people can be thinking these days, I just don't know..."
But Ginny stopped listening as a fat man with a croissant in one hand tossed a few more coins into her suitcase. "Keep playing, Harry," she whispered urgently, before resuming her dance with wild exuberance.
All went well for about an hour. Coins occasionally dropped into the battered old case, and more than a few paper notes joined them. But while Ginny was twirling merrily and trying to urge the goat to do the same, she felt a tap on her shoulder. Harry's guitar playing stopped abruptly as the red-headed 'gypsy' turned and sucked in her breath. Two very stern-looking policemen were frowning down at her.
"Can't you read, then?" one of the bobbies demanded of her, jabbing at the wall with his nightstick. Ginny looked to where he was pointing. A sign frowned down at her: No Soliciting!
"Umm... sorry," Ginny said weakly, bending down to close her case, but the other bobby shook his head.
"Now, now, lassie, we can't 'ave yeh makin' people think it's aright," he boomed. "There's a fine, didn't yeh know!"
Ginny and Harry looked at each other helplessly.
And after they finished paying the fine with the money they had 'earned', they had just enough left over to pay for the goat rental.
-
"Dig in!"
Hermione likened Ron and his friends to a pack of rabid wolves as they attacked the buffet, almost as if they collectively had a personal vendetta against the spread of filet mignon and glazed carrots. "Ginny really outdid herself," she murmured to herself, passing by and swiping a cracker.
She made another pass, surveying the crowd; Narcissa and Pansy sat to one side stiffly, gulping wine out of nervousness and pure distaste, but other than that, everyone was having fun. The only thing that was missing was Harry, the seat next to Ron blaringly empty. That and the absence of a mass of red curls beside Seamus, where Hermione's maid-of-honour should have been snarfing olives and pickles to keep up with her own fiancée.
Brow furrowing, Hermione absentmindedly ate another cracker. Something fishy was going on, and she dragged Ron, who was holding two cups of gravy, away from his friends amidst a chorus of, "Chug! Chug!"
She pointed at the glasses, addressing the gravy first. "What do you think you're doing?" she demanded.
"Drinking gravy, what's it look like?" he replied indignantly. Hermione sighed heavily.
"Ron, Ginny did so much to plan this, and I want to properly thank her… and I would have thought Harry would be here too!"
Ron glanced back at his table where Seamus was mixing mint jam, pumpkin juice, and mashed sweet potatoes. Hermione grimaced and looked revolted, but Ron was enthralled and upset. "Hey, no fair! He's stealing my spotlight!"
"Ronald Weasley, are you even listening to me?"
Looking pained, Ron tore his eyes away from the males who were, scarily enough, giggling and tittering like mad. "'Mione, come on, don't worry about it," he said, taking her hands. "They're probably just off… shagging, or something… it's all in good fun."
"Still, I think Ginny should…."
He sighed, took a sip of his gravy, and winced. "She's fine, she'd owl if there were any major problems." Tugging the bushy-haired girl after him, he grinned. "Come watch me make an arse of myself and eat more ketchup-and-spinach than Seamus, it'll be a blast!"
She felt sick and the unpleasant thought came that she'd have to drag a violently-ill Ron back to the house later. "Thanks anyway, but I'll pass. Try not to throw up, okay?"
He crossed his fingers and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. "I'll try, but I can't promise anything."
His fiancé wandered off in the opposite direction, away from exclamations of, "Wizard, it's purple!" and "That looks almost like the time…" Hermione shuddered and blocked her ears, focusing her attention instead on the rather large present table.
There were all different kinds of presents – big, small, oddly-shaped – and a mountain of cards. She felt a shiver of excitement and dread when she saw a particularly large box wrapped in black and silver with a huge tag that read "Sirius and Remus". In contrast, a normal-looking package sat somewhere in the middle, with "Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes" scrawled on a tag in blue ink. She eyed it suspiciously.
Finally, she caught sigh of a huge parcel near the end of the crowded table. She could tell it was a box, but there were jagged… things… poking out every which way, covered and hidden from view by layers of packing tape and paper decorated with miniature snakes spitting fire. Hermione didn't need to peek to know it was from the Malfoys.
She gulped. Suddenly, finding Harry and Ginny didn't seem so important.
-
Harry sat on the sidewalk, humming what sounded suspiciously like the James Bond theme. Ginny had told him to, "Wait here," while she returned the goat and went job-hunting. "I'll use my powers of persuasion to get us something good." He fervently hoped, for Seamus' sake, that 'powers of persuasion' didn't mean what he thought it meant.
"Harry!" He looked up at the shout to see Ginny waving a piece of paper, hair trailing like a banner, and the next second was pulled into a dark alleyway. She bent her head like in some super-secret spy film and motioned for Harry to do the same. "I found it!"
"Found what?" He was rather hoping for the meaning of life or an untraceable way of killing Snape, but highly doubted it.
Ginny pushed her hair out of her eyes and unfolded the crumpled piece of paper. "A job, you prat. It's quick, pays well, is relatively easy and painless… and it's only illegal if you get caught!"
He visibly twitched. "Relatively?"
"Well, yes, if – here, just look."
He looked. And flinched.
Ginny held a newspaper clipping between two fingers; the ink was smudged and the type was somewhere around 7, tiny and hard to see. He guessed that it had been printed accidentally, maybe as a joke, or an inside job at the Muggle newspaper office. All he knew was that it gave Ginny an idea that he wished she didn't have.
"Prostitute wanted?" he hissed.
Ginny grinned and played with her hair. "Well, I thought it was a good idea," she stated indignantly.
"Ginny, while this is all fine and dandy," he started, letting out a breath he hadn't known he was holding, "neither of us is exactly the 40-ish, approximately 250-pound man who 'likes it rough' that this particular – um, woman – is looking for!"
She rolled her eyes and snatched back the paper. "I know that. I was just using this is an example… I mean, this is a quick way to make a lot of money. And we need a lot of money. Fast."
"Ginny, I don't think Ron would like it if…"
"Now you're starting to sound like Hermione." She crossed her arms across her chest and blew a stray piece of hair off her forehead.
"Because she would be right!" He started to pace, running a hand through his hair. "We're only nineteen and twenty, we can't do this, it would be ethically wrong, not to mention illegal, and-" He stopped short. "No. Stop right there."
Ginny had her lower lip jut out again, and she bat her eyelashes at him, hands folded over her heart. "Please, Harry? Think of it as a present for Hermione."
He could feel himself melting.
"Ginny, come on. You don't want to do this, those guys can be pretty gross, and besides-" All of the sudden, she started to laugh. "What's so funny?" he demanded.
In no time flat she was rolling on the ground, giggling like mad. Harry quickly glanced around to make sure he wasn't on some stupid Muggle game show, or had missed something hilarious, like an elephant walking through town, or Snape spontaneously combusting. "Ginny, what is it?"
"You!" she managed to squeak around peals of laughter. "That's the funniest – most ridiculous – where did you even get the idea that I?"
Now he was truly worried for her sanity. "Ginny? Ginevra Weasley?"
She managed to stop laughing long enough to choke out, "Harry, you're the one who'd be doing the dirty work!"
For a moment, he was, to put it simply, shocked. Then he started backing away, hands over his – erm – more private parts. "N-no-o, not me, no way, nu-huh, not a snowball's chance in hell…."
She straightened and put a hand on her hip. "Come on, Harry. It's not a big deal. Everyone's doing it!"
"They why don't you!" he exclaimed, bumping into a wall, stumbling over, and trying to regain some of his dignity.
Ginny sighed and held out her hand. "Hello? I'm engaged? Remember Seamus Finnigan?"
"So what?"
She rolled her eyes and went on, slowly, as if trying to explain the subject of physics to a three-year-old child, "So you don't even have a girlfriend."
"I could get one if I wanted," he murmured unhappily.
"But you don't have one."
"Yet," he shot back bitterly.
She sighed and turned her head to the clouds in a God-please-give-me-strength gesture. "Harry, we need money. You can get us money. I promise I'll only get you the nice ones, and-"
"Since when do you know so much about this?" he asked suspiciously.
She bit her lip. "Lavender and Parvati, but that isn't important."
"Apparently my innocence isn't important either."
She wanted to reply, 'What innocence?' but fought back the urge. Instead – "Does this mean you'll do it?"
"I suppose I have no choice. It's either that or I leave you to be thrown in jail for not paying off your debts, and I know Ron would hate me if I let that happen."
"Oh, Harry!" she squealed, throwing her arms around him. "Thank you, thank you, thank you-"
"Save it. Just wait until I need a favour."
-
"So, did you read those books I gave you?"
Harry narrowed his eyes at the tall redhead and mustered the dirtiest look possible. "I peeked at them. And, frankly, I thought they were disgusting. I didn't know people could even twist that way."
She flushed. "Yes, well, I was just trying to help."
"Then let me off the hook," he muttered.
"Oh, Harry." With a slight sigh and a roll of her eyes, Ginny perched next to her friend on the bed inside the seedy motel, after making sure the curtains were drawn tightly closed. "Look, I got you a list of clients for tonight. The first one's going to arrive in about twenty minutes, so we have to get you ready… and she's paying for this room, so don't screw up."
"Yea, yea. I don't see why you can't just do this yourself."
She didn't dignify that with an answer. Instead, she pulled a bag of clothes from behind her back. Harry eyed it. "Look, I have clothes for you. Your jeans and t-shirt are not a turn-on."
He gritted his teeth. "What's in there? Let me guess, leather trousers, a sequined shirt, and a spandex-"
"Yes, actually," she cut him off quickly. "But don't worry, because-"
"You're going to pay for this," he snarled, grabbing the bag and heading to the bathroom. He stopped just short of the grime creeping from near the tub and turned around. "Close your eyes while I change."
Ginny obliged, resisting the urge to peek around her fingers at Harry's frequent outbursts of, "Bloody hell! Stupid, stupid…". Instead, she lowered her hand and tried not to laugh when he grunted, "I'm ready, you can look now."
She had to divert her attention from Harry, who looked thoroughly disgruntled. "The pants are – erm – quite tight."
"Yea, if they cut off circulation, I'm blaming you."
"Fair enough. So anyway, her name's Sam, and she's twenty-five, and-" Ginny was cut off by a sharp knock on the door, and shook her head at Harry before grabbing his glasses and running to loom through the peephole. "It's her! Look, Harry, just be nice and… well, be nice."
When Ginny opened the door, 'Sam' strode in. Ginny had to twitch at the sight of her heavily made-up face, blue sparkly eye shadow smeared up to her brows, eyeliner too thick for words. She looked faintly masculine, but Ginny wasn't one to judge. Instead, she tried to wave to Harry – "Be good, kid," – as 'Sam' shoved some notes into her hand. Harry snatched his glasses from her hands, and Ginny darted out and slammed the door before Harry could regain sight.
There came a phase – shock, and then what was presumably denial – and then Ginny heard low voices and the creak of bedsprings. Harry was such an accepting sport. She sank against the wall, thankful for an hour or so of peace.
Harry couldn't have been in the room for more then ten minutes when he rushed out, breathless, hair disheveled from bumping into quite a few walls in his mad scramble for the door. "Done already?" Ginny asked, puzzled, looking up from the wad of bills she was counting.
"Ginny, I couldn't do it!"
"Why not?" She looked surprised.
His eyes darted to the closed door, and he held the handle tight. In a whisper he replied, "Cos that she… is really a he. And it's scary! And even more illegal because she- he- it- said he- she- aw, screw it… was married, and-" He stopped to catch his breath.
"I should say it is, now, isn't it laddie?"
"Yeah, definitely… wait a minute…." Harry looked up into the eyes of the bobby he had seen only once before – outside the tube, when he and Ginny were posing as gypsy dancers.
Ginny made an incoherent squeaking noise.
Harry lowered his eyes. "I don't suppose it would help if I said I was sorry?"
The bobby shook his head. "Not one bit. Hol' on a mo' while I go check on the poor lass in the bedroom there. You two are going to have an awful' hefty fine when I'm ready for ya…." The door squeaked open and the bobby's face turned white as a sheet.
Harry and Ginny were able to sneak away when the bobby discovered that their 'client' was his wife.
-
"Presents! Presents!" Lavender declared loudly, standing up on her chair and waving her arms. "Come on! Bride and groom, over here!"
Ron looked distinctly disgruntled as Katie and Luna plucked the jar of pickle juice he had been about to drink from his fingers, seized him by the arms, and dragged him over to the 'Groom' chair under the arch. Hermione was already seated in the 'Bride' chair, chewing her lip nervously and shooting glances at the door every now and then, as if she was planning an escape; Ron figured she was still waiting for Ginny and Harry. For a moment it became a little confusing as the guests seized their chairs and pulled them into a wide semi-circle around the pair; people kept pushing chairs into each other and tripping. Once they had finally settled down, Parvati seized the nearest gift and peered at the tag.
"This one's from Fleur and Bill..." She handed it to Hermione, who exclaimed over the exquisite wrapping job and forgot about Harry and Ginny for awhile. Ron immediately ruined it by tearing off a chunk of gold-and-mauve paper, earning himself a growl from his sister-in-law.
"Sorry, Fleur..."
Hermione carefully slid the rest of the paper off the box - fancy jade letters across the lid spelled out 'Avec Plaisir'. Hermione opened the box to find layers upon layers of tissue paper, which she folded back to reveal - lingerie. A short, silky blue nightgown, covered in lace and accompanied by a matching bra and panty set.
She and Ron blushed like mad as Angelina scooped the lacy, frilly undergarments from their box and held them up to the hoots and catcalls of the guests. Fleur kissed Hermione's cheek and Bill punched his younger brother playfully in the arm, beaming. "Authentic French lingerie. It'll spice things up a little!"
"Thanks... I think..." Ron mumbled as Hermione hid the underwear in its box and hastily stuffed it under her chair.
"The next present is from Dean!" Alicia sang, plopping a huge box down into Ron's lap. He ripped off the Quaffle-printed paper before Hermione could blink, and held it up for all to see. It was a blender. Not the usual kind of blender - its box proclaimed it as 'A Miracle Of The Age! Chops, Purées, Blends, Even Minces! Tough Enough To Withstand Even The Toughest Fire-Crab Shells!" The picture on the box showed the blender, filled with a strange mixture the colour of rust, with things that looked like bones poking out of it. Hermione shuddered slightly, but Ron was feeling a lot better. Maybe appliances were even more fun then he had thought!
The next few presents were mostly quite ordinary... a set of dishes and silverware from Neville... a gorgeous clock from Hermione's grandmother... a hideous lamp from Mrs. Figg which Hermione vowed to stow in the deepest depths of the basement as soon as possible... a set of bath lotions and salts... matching table linen...
Then Luna pushed the giant silver-and-black package at Hermione and Ron. "This one's from Mr. Black and Professor Lupin..."
Sirius beamed. "Mr. Black, did you hear that? Mr. Black. I don't think anyone's ever called me that..."
Ron and Hermione exchanged nervous looks before taking deep breaths and untying the ribbon together. Whatever it was, it couldn't be too bad... after all, Remus had probably made sure Sirius hadn't gotten anything too strange... With that reassuring thought in mind, they each took a side of the box's lid and lifted.
Almost at once Hermione turned red and buried her face in her hands. Ron's eyes widened almost to the point of tumbling out of his head, but with horror or amazement no one cloud be quite sure.
"Ahh, they like it!" Sirius chuckled, draining his glass of wine.
His lover, however, thought otherwise; he got up and peered into the box. "SIRIUS BLACK!"
Inside the box was a whip, a riding crop, two pairs of handcuffs (one fluffy; one plain steel), and many naughty articles of leather clothing.
"WHAT WERE YOU THINKING!" Remus yelled at Sirius, who was giggling helplessly. A combination of the looks on the engaged couple's faces and too much wine, probably.
"Remus!" Hermione cried in agonizing embarrassment. "How could you let him buy this!"
"I didn't! He wouldn't let me see what he bought! He had it gift-wrapped at the shop... oh, you're so bloody stupid!" Remus wailed, the last directed at Sirius.
"I dunno," Fred said mischievously, peeking at the gifts. "It might make things a little... interesting..."
"Suits the relationship rather well..." George sniggered.
His soon-to-be sister-in-law grabbed the jar of pickle juice and poured it over his head.
-
"You know, I'm never, never going to forgive you for that," a rather disgruntled Harry informed Ginny as they finally emerged from behind the Dumpster they had chosen as a hiding place. "I'm scarred for life, honestly. I'll never be able to go into a motel again..."
"Oh, do shut up," Ginny said impatiently. "I've had an idea."
"What now?" Harry said grumpily.
"We've been going about this all the wrong way. Everything we've done so far is illegal! We've got to try something... well... more legal. And I know just how to do it!"
Harry twitched. "Oh no, how?"
"Follow me!"
Fifteen Minutes Later
"Um... Ginny... are you sure about this?" Harry asked weakly.
The fiery redhead had her back to him, arranging stacks of paper cups and a cup of straws on the table they had set up on the sidewalk. What looked like every juice pitcher the Weasleys owned was scattered all over the table as well, filled with different kinds of juice and neatly labeled: 'Watermelon', 'Lemonade', 'Pink Lemonade', 'Pineapple', and so on. A sign hung from the edge of the table, facing the street, announcing to the public: Cool, Refreshing Lemonade! Really Cheap!
"Of course I am," Ginny said in an aggravated tone of voice, finally turning back to him and scowling. "Look, I've got it all figured out, okay? I've seen Muggle children doing this - this must be how they earn all that money for bideo games and such..."
"Video games, not bideo," Harry corrected her, but Ginny took no notice. Instead, she plopped a sugar bowl and a pile of plastic spoons beside the straws. She stepped back to survey her work and smiled.
"That's good enough to be getting on with. Now, let's sit and wait for the customers to come flocking to us!"
"Flocking?"
"Yes! They'll be coming in droves!"
But after fifteen minutes, Harry was ready to give up. Not one person had stopped for a drink; in fact, most people hurried by as if they didn't see the table at all. The bowl of ice cubes was beginning to melt and overflow; and Harry was heartily sick of the bees which kept buzzing around their table, intent on the sugar bowl.
"Er... Ginny..."
"They'll - be - here- any- MINUTE," Ginny growled.
"Come on, we've already been waiting fifteen minutes..."
"That's not long enough!" Ginny waved away a bee that was trying to land on her earring and looked at him. She looked as if she was going mad; her eyes were gleaming in a frantic way that reminded Harry of Luna, or perhaps Snape when he was close to getting something he wanted. With a shudder, he pushed the thought of Snape from his mind.
"Come on... everyone must think we're insane... we haven't sold one cup of juice!" he protested. "Besides, we should be getting to the shower, everyone must be worried sick about us..."
"I can't go back without the money!" Ginny said savagely.
"I still think we should-"
"Er - some service, chaps?"
Harry and Ginny jumped and stopped arguing. Standing in front of their table was a young, handsome man with long hair, wearing Lycra biking shorts and holding the lead of an enormous St. Bernard. The man looked sweaty, as if he had just been jogging.
"Hi," Ginny said brightly, elbowing Harry in the ribs before he could open his mouth. "What would you like?"
"Lemonade, please..." he paid Ginny and took the cup she offered him.
"That really hits the spot," he gasped when he finished, crunching up the cup and tossing it into the dustbin next to the table. "Thanks!" He and his dog jogged off, Ginny leaning over the table to watch the man's lovely Lycra-clad arse before he jogged around the corner.
"Hey, lady!"
A kid's voice brought her down to earth and she looked around to see two small blonde children, one boy and one girl, standing in front of the table. Ginny put on her sweetest smile and cooed, "Something to drink, kids?"
"No," the girl said. "We want you to get out of our territory!"
Ginny and Harry exchanged surprised looks, and then Harry chuckled. "Your territory? Listen, kids... I don't know who you think owns this sidewalk, but we're doing business here. We're not going to move for you."
"Hell you won't!" the boy said rudely, pushing everything off the table and into the dustbin. Ginny winced when she heard her mother's best glass pitcher shattering. Harry was staring in disbelief at the two children, who couldn't be any more than eight but already acted like the thugs that hung out in the back alleys of London.
"Move it or lose it," the girl threatened. Ginny and Harry jumped to their feet, either to push the kids over or flee, whichever came first - but as soon as they stood, the girl knocked Ginny down.
"Hey, you can't do that!" Harry yelled, starting towards the boy. The boy sneered at him and raised his fists. Harry did the same...
...and screamed in pain as the boy punched him in the crotch.
-
"Last present, everyone! Last present!"
Ron sighed in relief; he could have sworn he was getting carpal tunnel syndrome after opening the last twenty presents Hermione had forced on him: he had a sneaking suspicion it was because her own hands were killing her, but thought it unwise to start a row in the middle of the shower. Instead, he smiled like his life depended on it, and took the present Luna handed to him. "It's from Narcissa and Pansy," she said, feigning happiness.
In truth, all the guests were a little scared. Although they didn't think anything could quite top the last present - candies that had exploded, and left the ends of Ron's hair singed, given as a gift from the twins – they were weary of the box Ron had on his lap. It looked, to put it bluntly, positively lethal.
Ron forced a smile and started to pull off the snake-imprinted wrapping paper; he made a point of handing it off to Fleur, who understood right away and shoved it at the bottom of the wastepaper bag. Layer after layer he went, each guest backing away as he got closer to the present itself. "Bloody hell," he muttered, as he got to the packing tape and got tangled in it, but Hermione put a hand on his thigh to quiet him, and helped disentangle his hands.
After the packing tape, there was a layer of perfectly normal brown paper… and Ron promptly found all the protruding points as he made to peel this off. Every so often he would whimper as he pricked his hand, but a look at Hermione, who was a stickler for politeness, made him smile and think twice about cursing.
"This is… erm… very nice… thank you, Narcissa and Pansy…" Ron said, as he got down to the heart of the box. There, inside, lay a set of exceedingly large kitchen knives, poorly packed, some poking through the box to the other side. Perfectly harmless. And Ron was expecting something deadly.
There was a collective sigh of relief from the group, and a couple of giggles from the back.
"Oh, not a problem, dear. I just wish the stupid prat had packed it correctly." Narcissa Malfoy, very red in the face, stood up in the back of the room, holding out a hand and a glass of wine as she did so; Ron and the others couldn't help but notice just how many half-full glasses were around her and Pansy, who was sitting with her head on the table, snoring lightly, drooling on the cloth. "It is so hard to find good help these days…" she added, wavering, from drunkenness, where she stood in her stiletto heels.
Hermione blanched at the sight of Draco's girlfriend, but forced herself to smile. "Those knives will come in handy in the kitchen, I'm sure…"
For a moment Narcissa looked confused, and put her glass down in mid-sip.
"Dear… those are hunting knives." Thoughtfully, she added, "Of course, you can always use them to behead house-elves…."
The room was quiet in shock, except for Hermione's grandmother, befuddled, who whispered to Sirius on her left, "What's a house elf?"
-
"Not illegal, you say? Ginny, they could have arrested us for fighting with children!" Dejectedly, Harry sat leaning against a trash can, knees tucked to his chest, head on his knees. Ginny had allotted time for him to sit down, telling him that 'You won't be any good for making money until you recover from being beaten by a child. It's a blow to your ego.' Harry had to agree.
She carefully touched her swelling eye and flinched. "Yes, but they didn't. And we made a couple dollars."
"A couple dollars won't even pay for the rental of the country club."
"Yea, you're right," she agreed miserably, sinking beside Harry. "I don't know how we're going to make the money! There's just no way!"
He looked up happily. "So we can go to the shower? And admit our mistakes? And maybe, possibly get something for this cut below my eye? It hurts," he whimpered pathetically, "and I think it started bleeding again."
Ginny pretended to consider this, and the sat up straight and smiled at Harry, albeit rather… evilly. "Ohhh, no. I still have one more plan. And it's a doozy."
If it had been earlier that morning Harry's eyes probably would have widened behind his glasses and he would have squeaked something incoherent, protesting against the newest scheme of Ginny's. Now, he just pulled himself painfully to his feet and sighed, long a martyr of Ginny's tactics. "What now?" he asked tiredly.
"Well," she began, standing also, "first we have to Apparate to the Burrow. There're some things I have to get for us…."
-
Harry stood, decked from head to toe in black, wringing a ski mask in his hands. "I cannot believe you are making me do this. I seriously cannot believe…"
"Oh, do stop whining," Ginny cut him off, taking the pins he handed her and twisting her vivid hair into a knot on the top of her head. She paused for a moment to study her reflection critically in a puddle on the ground, then fished in her pocket for a piece of charcoal. Almost delicately she drew two diagonal lines under each eye and handed it off to Harry.
"I'm going to be wearing a mask, I don't need it," he grumbled, but complied anyway, knowing better than to anger the redhead. She, meanwhile, pulled a dark green turtleneck from her 'pocketbook' and pulled it over her white blouse.
The duo was standing in the middle of St. Catchpole's largest bank, having successfully worked an Alohomora charm on the locked door. Ginny had pointed out that if the two looked like workers who had forgotten something, passing bobbies were less likely to interrogate them. Harry hadn't bothered to question the reason behind changing into all-dark garb, just smiled and nodded. Sometimes it was just easier to agree with the Weasleys.
"Are you ready?" Ginny asked. She had on black jeans and work boots a couple sizes too big; they must have been Fred or George's. As a finishing touch she had pulled a dark blue cap over her hair. Harry was dressed almost the same, except, of course, for the ski cap. He was making sure his face was covered at all costs.
"Ready as I'll ever be." The two started off down the hall, staying in the shadows and dodging the security cameras as Harry pointed them out. Ginny had wanted to blow them up with her wand, but Harry thought that reckless, and had stopped her from taking out half a side wall with one misplaced spell. "Lay low, okay?" he had told her.
They were heading in the direction of the vaults, where Ginny said they were going to borrow just enough money to pay off their debts. "I'll take a couple jobs and pay back the money as quickly as I can. I'm not just going to steal it, so don't worry," she had told him.
True, it was a crazy plan: but it was all they had.
"This is quite uneventful," Harry remarked as they stayed out the line of cameras, hooking a right and facing the giant doors that stood between them and their destination. "And it's hard to breathe in this mask."
"So take it off. There's no one around. But don't touch anything," Ginny told him, starting to work on the door-lock. "I really wish we had a charm that could turn us incorporeal, I don't know if Alohomora's going to work."
Harry rolled his eyes and sat on a tellers' desk: he didn't even bother to wonder why there was a desk outside the vault. He just sighed and took off the mask and his glasses, leaving them folded beside him. He closed his eyes and yawned. "I really thought we were going to have more trouble, you know? This seems almost too easy."
"Muggles are just no match for wizard-kind," Ginny murmured, hard at work on the lock.
"I know, but still…." Harry stretched and felt a hand on his shoulder. "Oh, are you all done?" he asked, turning around and opening his eyes to grin at the girl behind him.
Only, that didn't look like Ginny. "Wow, Ginn, without my glasses on you're really ugly," he said, reaching out for his specs and slipping them over the bridge of his nose.
"That's because I'm over here," came a shaky voice to his left. He raised his eyebrows and turned his head; there was Ginny, biting her lip, face pale, hair falling from its careful up-do. So who was behind him?
Slowly, he turned his head, and sucked in a breath. There was the bobby from the motel, his big hand clamped on Harry's shoulder. "Eh… heh… my, you sure look mighty lovely with my glasses on, Sir," he squeaked.
"Easier tha' you thought, eh?" said the bobby. Harry caught sight of no less than five officers behind him, bemused smiles on their faces.
"Let me guess… cuff 'em, right?" Harry asked, holding out his hands.
"Ohhh, yes. An' I hope the two of yeh like prison, because, from the looks of it, neither of yeh have the money to be gettin' ou'."
Ginny glared at Harry. "And if you hadn't sat on the 'silent alarm' button we would have gotten away, too."
Ashamed, he hung his head.
-
"Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!" the shower guests chanted after the debris from the presents had been cleaned up, clinking their forks against their champagne glasses.
Hermione and Ron obliged, blushing furiously; a cheer went up from the guests, and Sirius yelled, "Dance! Dance!" as he turned on his battered CD player.
While the rest of the guests jumped up and began dancing, even his mother and Pansy, Draco Malfoy sat in the corner, clutching a rather large glass of wine and frowning horribly. He really hated being here, despite everything his mother had said about it being a magically binding, family tradition for the Weasleys, Blacks, and Malfoys to get together when one of the members got married, no matter how the rest of the family felt about them. Idly, he was wondering why Auntie Bellatrix and Uncle Rodolphus weren't here, when a snooty waiter approached him.
"Exuuuuuse me, sir... but there's a very important phone call from a Mr. Harry Potter... and you seem to be the only person I can get the attention of... soooooo... would you mind taking it, please? He sounds very distressed."
Draco set down his wine glass, the first vapours of drunkenness clouding his mind. "Potty is on the phone! Okay, I'll take it." He got tipsily to his feet and followed the snooty waiter out into the lobby of the country club. The waiter handed him the phone and then left. Draco giggled nastily into the phone. "Is it you, Potty?"
On the other end, Harry moaned and looked at Ginny. "We used our only phone call, and got Draco!" he hissed, covering the mouthpiece with his hand.
For some inexplicable reason, Ginny beamed. "Good. He'll be perfect. Ask him to get down here."
Horribly confused, Harry uncovered the phone. "Hi, Draco... could you come to the police station? Ginny and I need you to bail us out."
"I always knew you'd end up in gaol someday, Potty!" Draco crowed. He hiccupped loudly. "I'll be right there! This is one sight I don't want to miss!"
Harry hung up the phone, even more bewildered. "He says he'll come," he said to Ginny as they were escorted back to their cell by a bobby.
"Good!" said Ginny. "Accio Incriminating Tape!"
A videotape box came zooming in the window. Bitterly, Harry wondered how he was the only person in the world who ever got caught doing magic in front of Muggles. But he couldn't dwell on this; Ginny's smile widened further and she hugged the tape.
"What is that?" Harry inquired.
"A video I took on your graduation day. Remember, I was trying out the Muggle camcorder Bill gave me? Well, I took an interesting video during the celebration feast after the ceremony. If we show this to Draco, he'll do anything we want."
"More blackmail?" Harry asked. "You and Sirius... honestly, you're both horrible. What's on it?"
Ginny whispered in his ear. A nasty smile played its way across Harry's lips. "Ginevra Weasley, you are a genius. I could kiss you." And he did, planting a kiss on her forehead.
"Getting cuddly, Potty and Miss Weasel?"
Draco had arrived. He was standing outside their cell beside the bobby, his usual malicious smirk on his face. "I always knew the two of you would end up as hardened criminals," he said happily. "It must run in the family, Potter... taking after Black, are we? Pity you aren't as attractive as he is..."
"Draco, we need you to bail us out," Ginny cut in, laying a hand on Harry's arm to keep him from trying to strangle Draco through the bars.
The blonde sneered. "Why should I?"
"I hoped it wouldn't come to this..." Ginny sighed in mock sorrow, shaking the videotape at him. "I have here a very incriminating video of you, shot at your graduation from Hogwarts. This copy is not the only one. If you don't help us out, I'll be forced to send this to every major news channel in Britain, and to the Daily Prophet."
Draco's heart plummeted to his shoes. More blackmail! How did everyone get ahold of all this information on him? Nervously, he cleared his throat. "What's on it?"
Ginny leaned close and whispered to him through the bars. Draco gulped, and turned to the bobby. "I'm going to bail these people out... how much is their bail?"
"Three thousand pounds."
Damn, that was a lot. But it couldn't be helped. Wetting his lips unhappily, he pulled out his checkbook. "Very well..."
-
"Okay, now why are you still following me?" Draco grumped, as he, Harry, and Ginny meandered down the London streets, on their way to the shower.
"Simple, Dracipoo," Ginny cooed. "We need you to pay the bill for Hermione's shower." She handed him the bill.
His grey eyes widened. "£8,872.30!"
"In cash, paid before the shower's over," Ginny said sweetly.
Draco stared at her, his normally pale skin now a deathly white. "I'm not going to pay for this!"
"Yes, you are. Or..." the redhead waved the tape threateningly. Draco longed to wrest it from her grasp and fling it down the nearest sewer grating, but he was quite certain that she wasn't lying about having other copies.
"All right... all right..." he said helplessly, thrusting the bill back at her. "Let's go..."
-
"Ginny!" Hermione cried, flinging her arms around her maid-of-honour. "There you are! I've been so worried... wherever have you been?"
"Just sorting out some things," Ginny said, grinning. "I'm ever so sorry it took so long, dear... we had a beastly wait at the caterer's..."
"It's such a pity you missed it," Hermione sighed, looking around at her bridesmaids, who were taking down the decorations and squabbling over the centerpieces. "It was so lovely... thank you so much, Ginny!"
Ginny smiled as Hermione hugged her again. "You're very welcome... it was no trouble at all..."
-
Sirius, yawning slightly and feeling dizzy from all the wine he had consumed at the shower, was led into the living room and helped over to the sofa by his godson and his lover. He hiccupped and cast a bleary eye on the box in Harry's hand. "Hey Harry," he slurred. "Wha's that?"
Harry looked down at the tape box, an uncharacteristically nasty smile spreading across his face. "Oh, just a tape Ginny lent to me. Want to watch?"
"Sure, why not?" Sirius shrugged. Harry stuck the tape in the VCR and plopped down on the sofa beside his godfather. Remus, looking a little apprehensive, took a seat on Sirius' other side as the tape started.
It was a shot of Draco Malfoy in the Great Hall at Hogwarts. He was standing on a table, waving his shirt over his head and shouting, "Let's paaaaar-taaaay!" He threw his shirt aside and started to do a slow, sinuous dance, unbuttoning his trousers as he did. Eventually he pulled the trousers off to cheers and catcalls, and threw them aside as Snape came up to the table and started yelling at him.
"Snapey! Give me a kiss!" Draco crowed, pulling off his boxers as well. (Remus covered his eyes in terror.) The blonde jumped off the table, lips puckered. Snape panicked and bolted, Draco following, singing, "Da-amn… wish I was your loo-ver…."
Harry and Sirius burst into laughter.
There was no way Harry was ever going to let Draco forget this...
"God bless you, Ginny," he choked out between giggles.
-
Upcoming attractions….
Ch/6: They Only Come Out At Night – We've had the wedding shower, and you know what comes next - the bachelor party! Harry and Sirius are determined to give Ron one last fling as a 'sexy single man', and take Ron and his friends out for a night on the town! Trouble comes in the form of strippers and prostitutes of both sexes, and the groom-to-be might end up with an unpleasant surprise...