A/N: When Harry speaks in that "sing-song" voice, please don't think Peeves. If you've seen Walk the Line, think of when Johnny has those cracker things and he's telling June to "open yer mouth" in that low-pitched half-whispery voice. In other words, he's just sort of teasing her, in a very manly way. Not a Peeves-y way.
: Chapter 2 : Snips, Snails, and Puppy Dog Tails
Ginny closed the door behind her as quietly as she could. Blood was rushing through her cheeks. She put a hand to her mouth; her lips were tingling pleasantly.
Get a grip, Gin, she scolded herself. He doesn't think of you that way, never has, and he never will. Get back to being a normal person.
She took a bracing breath, and it trembled in spite of her will. It was such a silly childhood fancy, why did it always seem to creep up on her like this? Ginny turned down the hall and into her room. She lay beneath the comfortingly familiar bed sheets, which still smelled a bit like her eldest brother, Bill. This had been his room once. The walls were a crisp forest green colour with old, creaking floorboards. The four-poster was much larger than she needed, but had accommodated Bill nicely when he had had it and she still shared a room with Fred and George. Ginny chuckled as she remembered both her father's reason for giving her Bill's old room ("He's got his own flat now---he doesn't need a place here anymore.") and her mother's, which had been quite different ("If Fred and George turn your hair purple one more time, I'm locking them in the chicken coop!").
Slowly the silvery light filtering through her window faded into black, and from the black other shapes came about.
Ginny looked down at her feet, but instead found two very feline paws. She was aware of having a tail, as well, and whiskers. Something massive and furry landed in front of her, causing the ground beneath her pads to quiver. She leapt back, to avoid being hit with a giant paw. The furry thing twisted on the ground to face her, and she recognized a large cat face. Its fur was a brilliant red like her own, but it had bright blue eyes, while she knew that her's must be brown. Ron, she thought, though she hadn't the foggiest idea why. As she looked around, she saw that there were more cats that also stuck a name in her head; Mum, Fred, George, Charlie, Bill, Percy.
Then something else caught her attention. There was a woman with long black hair (Cho Chang, she thought) who was tugging a rope, on the end of which was a tall black dog that simply refused to move. She knew that dog. Scruffy fur, flopped over ears, a half-length tail---it was Sirius.
"Sirius!" she called, though heard only a loud "Mrrow!" Ginny ran towards him, and then froze in her tracks as he turned to look at her. That wasn't Sirius.
Striking green eyes. A weathered spirit within them, torn and battered, like it'd been sent to hell and back. Pain that they refused to feel, and love, too, but restrained with distrust, perhaps in the one they saw, or else in the one they served.
"Harry," she whispered, though again a came a noise that she might've heard from Wynnie or Crookshanks.
Harry raised a paw to come near her, but Cho, upon seeing what he was doing, jerked the rope back and Harry was yanked to her feet with a sharp yelp. He got to his paws, hacking and coughing, for the tether had choked him. He glared up at Cho, growling and snarling as best he could, but she only tightened the rope around his throat.
Ginny glanced down at her paw, flexed her claws out, grinned, and rocked back to spring. She flew at Cho's head, wanting nothing more than to mar that perfect, high-cheekboned face, and slice all the bone-straight hair off her pretty little head.
Unfortunately, it was at that moment that a very large white thing chose to nip her right on the nose.
"Ouch!" she cried out in surprise. "Hedwig? What're you doing here? Harry's just down the hall."
But Hedwig gave a loud, owlish tweet and dropped a letter into Ginny's lap. She cast a weary glance at the open door to the hallway that might lead one to Harry's room. As she skimmed the parchment, Ginny didn't wonder why. In very curly handwriting, it read:
Dear Harry,
After thinking about everything that happened yesterday, I know now that you really didn't mean most of what you said. You were just tired. I know it's been a long week for you. I forgive you, Harry. You can come home now.
Love,
Cho
XXXX
"Smart girl, Hedwig," said Ginny, cringing at the letter. "He wouldn't've liked this much…"
Swinging her legs out of bed, she went to the window, tore Cho's letter into several pieces, and chucked them into the night sky. She glanced back at Harry's owl.
"You could've atleast waited until morning, though," she said, climbing back into bed. "At this rate I'll never get to sleep." Or slice Harry's fiancé to bits, Ginny added silently.
Her next few hours of sleep were, regrettably, dreamless, but thankfully nightmare-less. When the world came slowly back into view, she found it occupied by a pair of striking green eyes.
Harry. Why was he here? Perhaps she was still dreaming…
"You're up," he said, grinning brightly at her. "Your mum says breakfast is ready."
Ginny gave a tired moan. Harry or not Harry, she still hated getting up in the morning. She rolled over onto her belly, pulling the covers up to her chin.
"Come on," he said gently in a singsong voice, resting a knee on the mattress and attempting to turn her over again. She came halfway, and slumped back down.
"Let's go, Gin," he chimed again, leaning down to speak it quietly into her ear this time. Her skin prickled pleasantly in that region, but she didn't budge.
"Rise and shine," he teased. He was so close that his mouth brushed her ear. Such was fire that shot down her back that she turned onto it at once, fully awake now. She found that he had been mere inches from her. There was an intake of breath by both parties, though only her's was audible. Harry swallowed so hard that his Adam's apple bobbed violently. For a moment---though it felt much longer---they stayed still, as if frozen, she on her back and he suspended over her, a hand supporting him on either side of Ginny. Something was lit ablaze in his eye. He licked his lips, as they were dry, and then the flame was snuffed, and he got to his feet.
"Right, err…" Harry cleared his throat, which seemed to clear his head as well. Ginny, sitting up now, pushed the covers down and swung her legs. She was suddenly very aware that her nightshirt had ridden up as she had slept, and Harry looked to be, too; he was no longer meeting her eyes, for his own gaze had drifted low. Ginny felt her cheeks heat, embarrassed, and tugged the shirt down.
"I-I'll see you downstairs," he said hurriedly, still not looking up as he left her room. Then Ginny remembered something.
"Harry!" she called after him, sticking her head into the hallway. "Cho said you could come back to you and her's flat."
Harry made an indistinct noise at the back of his throat, and left Ginny to pull on a pair of jeans for breakfast. When she had done so, she headed downstairs to the kitchen, which already smelled of toast, sausage hash, and fresh scotch eggs (not the rubbish kind that Muggles ate). Ginny sat down and placed a bit of each on her plate, glancing at the others around the table; her father, reading that morning's Prophet; Ron, who was talking animatedly to Harry about the Cannons game they had gone to a week ago; Hermione, sitting between Ginny and Ron, listening to the latter attentively while she ate; Ginny's mother, complacently looking through an album of Bill and Fluer's honeymoon photos; and Percy, eating very quickly, as he didn't want to be late to his job at the Ministry of Magic.
Ginny smiled as she chewed a small forkful of sausage, gazing out the window to the rolling green fields. It had taken a while, but eventually Percy had diluted his pride enough to apologize to their mum and dad. Atleast, he had thought it was only their mum and dad listening.
Fred and George had stuck an Extendable Ear under the door, and the Weasley children had all crouched around the end, listening in. Percy had said he was sorry for forgetting his priorities, and promised that his loyalties would always lie with his family. He had also informed them that he was engaged to Penelope Clearwater. ("But didn't he fancy Zacharias Smith?" George had asked, bemused.)
Ginny snapped out of her reminiscent spell and turned her attention back to the table, finding that Percy had gone, her mother was washing dishes (already), and, as she looked at him, Harry was watching her fixedly from the corner of his eye. He shifted his gaze almost immediately back to his plate.
Later that day, when a soft yellow sun was sliding down on the horizon, Harry hadn't said anything of heading back home, and, in accordance, neither had Ginny. Obviously he didn't trust Cho (or himself) to have completely gotten over their argument.
Thus, Sunday had consisted of two-on-two Quidditch games in the afternoon, and Exploding Snap once Fred and George came home. They had arrived with arms laden with new products, which Harry eventually, after much insistence on the twins' part, accepted. Then it was his turn to insist that Ron, Hermione, and Ginny all test them out with him, as Cho would make him chuck anything she considered childish, infantile, immature, or generally improper.
So, they sat in a circle (actually, it was more of an oval) on the floor, a pile of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes in the center.
"Your turn, Harry," said Ginny, watching her nails with supreme dislike. The carton she had selected---a small, nondescript package---was now causing her fingernails to fluctuate from a dark red to an annoyingly prissy powder pink.
Harry chuckled at her good-naturedly and fished around in the pile of Wheezes, eyes tightly shut. He drew a little red box from the mix, which read, "Entity Embodiment Crème Brûlée." Harry glanced at it, bemused.
"Maybe you're s'posed to eat it," said Ron suggested. Harry shrugged, and pulled a quite solid burnt cream from the box, biting off the end of it. There was a flash of light, and what stood in place of Harry made Ginny's heart skip a beat.
Shaggy fur, flopped over ears, and a half-length tail, with startlingly green eyes. It was the Harry-dog from her dream.
"Woof!" They all jumped atleast three feet in the air, save Harry, who simply looked surprised.
"Woof," said Harry again. They jumped again, and he broke out in a puppyish grin, tail thrashing from side to side.
"Woof," he said yet again, resulting in another huge jump. His tail moved quicker.
"Quit that!" said Hermione, looking agitated. She glanced at the Ron and Ginny. "When d'you suppose it'll wear off?"
"Dunno," said Ron, his brows furrowed.
"It's not too bad, is it Harry?" Ginny asked. "I mean, you do look better as a dog."
Harry rammed her with his head, but she was laughing and his tail was wagging.
"You know," said Ron, smirking, "we ought to play fetch."
Apparently the burnt cream did not only affect Harry's exterior, but his mind as well, because the idea of fetch excited him very much. So much so, in fact, that he bowled Ron right over.
"Alright, alright, keep your fur on," said Ron, getting to his feet. Ginny and Hermione followed the boys outside, saying things like, "Don't piddle on the carpet, Harry," and "Be sure not to shed on the furniture." He growled at them briefly before, yet again, he was caught up in the excitement of chasing a stick across the yard.
"Good boy, Harry," said Ginny, trying very hard not to laugh as Harry returned, panting, the twig clamped in his jaws. She threw it out again, and he darted after it, a shrinking black break in the gold-spun green fields, bathed in the sun's dying yellow light. They carried on like this, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny all throwing the stick out with Harry chasing enthusiastically after it, until he finally wore himself out and collapsed on the ground.
"Oh, Ron…look…it's so pretty," said Hermione, watching the clouds light up iridescently on the horizon.
"It is," he said, taking her hand. He shot a meaningful look at his sister, and said, "Come on, 'Mione," leading her over a tree-topped hill, where two silhouettes meshed to one.
Ginny sighed. She didn't need to be second-in-command Head Auror to know what they were up to. How did Ron, of all people, have success with members of the opposite gender, and not her?
You've got Anthony, said someone from between her ears.
I'm breaking it off with him, she replied silently.
Already?
She chose to ignore that last, and headed over to where Harry lay, half-asleep in the grass. She knelt down beside him, and pulled the little puppy head onto her lap, fondling with floppy puppy ears. He licked her knuckles appreciatively, and she giggled. While her brother and Hermione remained on the hill, she and Harry remained in the grass, a scratch behind the ears for a lick on the wrist. They didn't even notice when Harry returned to a human state again, for he was half-asleep and she was looking out to the sun, watching as it was steadily swallowed up by the horizon. Ginny fiddled with his fringe and Harry drifted in and out of sleep, reality and dreams melting into one another in their lack of difference, all the while breathing in a deep, heady scent that reminded him of sun-sweetened heather.
Until, of course, Ron and Hermione returned, both looking a bit disheveled and rather flustered, but not displeased in the slightest.
"Harry, it wore off," said Ron, eyes flicking very briefly at his friend before shifting back to the one walking next to him. Harry shot up so quickly that he hit his head on Ginny's chin
"Ouch!"
"Sorry!"
"It's okay."
"Are you alright?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. How's your head?" Ginny asked. "Touched as usual?"
"Of course," Harry replied with a smirk, getting to his feet and offering her a hand. She took it and stood as well.
The four of them heard their names, and all whipped around to face the Burrow, where Ginny and Ron's mother leaned out of an open window.
"Come in, pudding's ready," she shouted, and a small stampede of feet headed into the Weasley kitchen. Due to Harry's presence, she had decided to go an extra length for dessert, and thus it tasted even better than it normally did; warm chocolate drop biscuits; a very sweet trifle; raspberry crumble; an apple tansy; and crème brûlée that Harry very politely refused.
Very full of food, they headed upstairs to bed. As Ginny past Harry's room on the way to her's, she head a swear from behind it. Curiosity pricked, she poked her head through the door (it had been ajar).
"Everything alright?" she asked.
"No," Harry replied darkly. Ginny noticed that he had a scroll of parchment in his hand, and Hedwig was sitting on the windowsill. "Cho's getting impatient. 'You've got me worried sick. Where are you, Harry?' Honestly, you'd think I was five," he spat irritably. "What'd she say in her first letter, anyway? Tell me I hadn't been thinking clearly? That it'd just been a bad day again?"
"She said she was sorry," Ginny lied.
"That's a first," Harry replied bitterly, giving a mirthless snort. "Where is it? I'd like to have something like that in writing."
"Harry…look…it'll turn out alright in the end," she tried.
"Of course it will," he said. "It always does. And then we'll be back to the same thing every day, all day, practically retracing my steps while she stuffs egg rolls down my throat and her mother talks to me like I've got a birth defect!" Ginny blinked.
"So this is the Wizarding World's Third Most Adorable Couple?" she asked, raising her eyebrows. Harry did too.
"You read that Spellbound rubbish?" he asked.
"No, Fluer does," said Ginny with a sigh. "If you're so unhappy with her, why did you purpose to her?"
"I don't know, I don't remember!"
"You don't remember why you asked her?"
"No, I don't remember any of it. Getting the ring, purposing, none of it," Harry replied, glaring at a nearby nightstand as if attempting to make it burst into flame.
"But then…how are you engaged to her?" said Ginny, confused. "You couldn't've just woken up with a ring on her finger and a couple of galleons out your pocket---"
"I did."
"What?"
"I did. I woke up and I had a fiancé, and the last thing I remembered was the bartender at Wong's passing me a firewhiskey."
"How d'you know it even happened then? She might've just waited until you passed out, nicked some money, and bought a ring---"
"She didn't. I checked with Geoffrey, Roger, and Marcus Belby---they're some people from the Ministry we were with---and they all said I did. Said I was dead drunk, but I did."
"Rotten luck."
"D'you think I've ever had anything else?" he asked. "I s'pose I met you and Ron and everyone, and going to Hogwarts was better than anywhere the Dursleys would've shipped me off to…"
"And atleast you were happy with Cho for a time," she pointed out. "I get bored with a bloke the day I get him." Harry snorted, and there was a contemplative pause before he said,
"It's not your problem, anyway," in low, dark tones.
"I'll make it my problem," she replied boldly. A corner of Harry's mouth twitched inexplicably before she added, "We ought to go to bed."
"What?" He snapped around to look at her with an oddly thunderstruck expression, and then said, "Oh, right. G'night, then."
"See you in the morning," she replied, making for the door.
"See you," Harry said quietly as she left.
Morning came soon, much too soon, for with morning came Harry's departure.
"Take care," her mother was saying, as Harry struggled to breath in one of her slightly lethal hugs, "and remember to come back soon this time, and---"
"I will, Mrs. Weasley," he said politely, voice at a bit of croak due to lack of breath. She released him, and after being squeezed by Hermione nearly as damagingly, he and Ron exchanged another one-armed hug.
"Good luck, mate," he said with a chuckle. As Harry and Ginny embraced, she said,
"You ought to turn up at my flat one of these days."
"You've got your own place?"
"I don't still live with my mother! Is that really the best you think I can do?"
"Well, no, 'course not, but---"
"46 Brackenbury. That's in Andover."
"Alright."
"See you, then."
"See you." With a forlorn sort of wave, Harry drew his wand and was gone.
"I…I think I'm going to go, too, Mum," said Ginny, giving her mother a quick hug good-bye. She pivoted on the spot and stepped onto a gravel-paved street.
Home was a stout construction, with two stories just barely wedged into it. Green fields flecked with purple stretched a mile or two on all sides before fading into forest. She pulled open a welcoming gate and headed down the dirt road, her mind elsewhere. Ginny was stopped (actually attacked) halfway down by a massive, scruffy white beast, which tackled her to the ground, lapping at her cheeks in delight.
"Skiddy---come on---I've got to get inside---Anthony'll be here in five minutes---stupid dog---" She couldn't help but laugh at her adorably single-minded sheepdog.
Suddenly Skidbladnir was plucked from the ground, and then a boy with straw-coloured hair scruffy as the dog's stood looking down at her, a friendly grin plastered across his face.
"Oh, hi, Ant," said Ginny as he hoisted her up by the wrist. "I thought you weren't coming 'til ten o'clock?"
"It's ten o'five, Ginny," he replied, suddenly looking rather cross.
"Oh…sorry…it's just that---my brother's friend came to the Burrow, and---well, he hasn't spoken to us for ages, so…um…" Anthony raised his brows at her, nonplussed.
"Whatever, you're here now," he said suddenly, his composure brightening substantially.
"Yeah, I guess," said Ginny, a part of her wishing he were still upset with her. "Look, Anthony---"
"Come on, Ginny, let's head inside," he said, ignoring her and heading toward the vertically challenged building before them.
"Alright," she replied in a defeated tone of voice. They headed up onto the porch, where Ginny pulled a little brass key from her pocket and shoved it into the doorknob. Several locks clicked: three magical, one Muggle. She made to open the door, but Anthony cut her off, in a most unusual way. He kissed her full on the lips, and so great was her surprise (or revolt) that she did not respond. He tried again, and still she did nothing.
"Anthony, what---?" But he cut her off yet again, trying to persuade her mouth to reply with his. Finally he jerked away from her, whipping around so that he didn't have to face the taken aback girl that stood with him on the front porch.
"Damn it, Ginny," he yelled angrily. As though determined to look severely agitated, Anthony and rammed his shoulder into one of the wooden support beams that hung from the over hang of roof, and gave it another kick for good measure.
"What'd I do?" she asked sharply.
"If you weren't even a bit taken with me, then why'd you agree to a date?" he demanded.
"I never said I wasn't taken with you," Ginny pointed out severely.
"Then what was that?"
"What was what?"
"When I…you didn't…" He trailed off, in such a fury that he couldn't put his thoughts together (and, unfortunately, Anthony was not one of those people that looked attractive when they were angry).
"You're sore because I didn't kiss you back? I wasn't expecting you to---er---do that," Ginny replied fiercely.
"So you decided to shoot me down instead?" he asked with a sneer.
"Only because you didn't have my consent," she replied coolly, chin raised.
"Oh, so I s'pose I should've said something like, 'Hi Ginny, do I have your consent to kiss you today?' Honestly, you're such a bloody waste of time…" He glanced over his shoulder at her, dark eyes narrowed. "I did like you, you know."
"Liked me?" said Ginny with mirthless laugh. "You just wanted your old dormitory friends to stop teasing you about the time they caught you in the broom closet with Michael Corner!"
"You don't know anything about that!" Anthony retorted.
"I don't, do I? I dated him for two years, or don't you remember? Even an idiot would know he wasn't sulking about some lost Quidditch match!"
"SHUT UP! Shut up, you---" He then called her something that she was surprised he would know, much less use.
"If you want me to quiet down so badly, then maybe you should run off with Terry or Eddie, quit wasting your time here!"
Looking as though he wouldn't have minded if Ginny had dropped dead at that very moment, Anthony stormed down the porch and across the yard to the street, where a far-off CRACK signified his Disapparating.
With a heavy sigh, Ginny slumped down onto the glider, where Skidbladnir promptly joined her.
"I'm not having a good day," she said, rolling her eyes and pushing her fingers through her hair in frustration.
"Woof," came a solemn reply.
"Well, come on, I know you must be hungry, what with not getting table scraps between meals," Ginny told him with a chuckle, getting to her feet.
"Woof!" She grinned, fluffed up the messy fur over his head, and pulled open the screen door for herself and Skidbladnir, as he'd outgrown the dog door months ago.
The house was bright with midday sunshine that poured through open windows, a cool breeze trailing after.
"Finite Incantatem," said Ginny deftly to the canister of puppy kibbles, which she had Charmed to empty a bowl's worth of food into Skidbladnir's dish. After picking up a few various objects (including two day's worth of mail, an old Chudley Cannons Little League cap, a singed oven mitt, and an ancient tin of Hagrid's treacle fudge) that he had slopped onto the floor in his mindless running about. She slumped onto the squishy legless couch. How it had come to exist without legs was a rather dull story, one that people really couldn't be bothered to sit around and hear, though they were prone to ask anyway due to the sheer novelty of it. Regardless, Ginny patted the cushion next to her with a quick, "Up, up, Skiddy," and was almost instantly joined as she opened mail. While the beast next to her chewed on one of his favourite headless teddy bears, Ginny slit the top on the first envelope, which seemed to scream "bill," but, mercifully, was not. It was simply an invitation from one of her old dorm mates, who apparently was getting married. Of course she'd come. Ginny picked up the next envelope, which really was a bill, calling for a sum of---
"Stupid bastards." Quite displeased with envelopes now, she turned her attention to the small stack of scrolls that had accumulated.
Weasley-
We need you her as soon as you can get here.
-Mr. Matheson
Ginny bit her lip. The letter was dated from the day before yesterday, and Mister Matheson was her supervisor at the Ministry, where she worked on level three in the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes as a member of the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad. (They were called the AMR Squad, for short.) She unrolled the next one:
Weasley-
Was I not clear in my last message? We need you down here NOW.
-Mr. Matheson
And the next one:
Weasley-What part of "now" did you not understand?
-Mr. Matheson
And the next:
Weasley-You know that pay raise I was considering for you? I'm done considering.
-Mr. Matheson
Bother, and she'd worked hard for that, too.
Weasley-Get down here in the next three minutes, or I'm going to hex you.
-Matheson
Weasley-
In case you haven't heard over WWN, we've got a situation with a couple of Scotts, a fire-breathing elephant, and some titanic women's drawers. In other words: You. Here. Now.
-Matheson
Weasley-
I'm going to go bury myself alive, and when I resurface, please be back. Please.
-Matheson
Ginny-
Hi, I was just wondering what you were up to, or if you'd like to go for tea Wednesday with this nice bloke I met down at Twillfit's. I know you're going out with that Anthony boy, but knowing you, you've already dropped him. So, what d'you say?
-Carole
PS. Peter reckons you've driven Matheson right mad. He fell asleep at his desk the other day, and was muttering something about elephants and panties.
Weasley-
I don't like elephants. I don't like Scottish people. I don't like undergarments. Help me. Save us. Please.
-Matheson
Weasley-
I'm covered from head to toe in dung and someone is playing an electric bagpipe in my ear. Show up whenever you like, don't mind me.
-Matheson
Feeling that the other thirty-some scrolls were of the same nature, Ginny drew her wand from her back pocket, stood, and stepped into the empty Muggle street corner, complete with nondescript magical telephone booth. She punched in 62442, to which a calm female voice sounded.
"Davey, it's Ginny. Let me down, will you?" She tried not to sound rude, but it was urgent.
"Oh, oh, right," said a man's voice, dry with age. "He-he, Mathy's going to 'ave your 'ead, Ginners."
"Yeah, that I've figured," said Ginny, chuckling in spite of herself as the booth plunged down ward. Apparently her blunder had even carried to the doorman. Suddenly a little silver badge appeared.
"Oh, come on," she said, eyes rolling.
"Put 'er on, Ginners," Davey croaked jovially.
"You've got to be kidding. Nobody wears those anymore," she argued. "It's not like they're about to turn me in. I've got an ID card, after all."
"Minis'ry policy," he replied in a dignified manner.
"Fine, fine," said Ginny, plucking it out of the slot. She stowed it in the left pocket of her jumper as the door swung open into the third floor.
"WEASLEY!" A balding man with ever-perspiring pink pudge for skin was pointing to her as he rushed forward, a crazed look in his eye. She noticed that he smelled rather foul today.
"Afternoon, Mr. Matheson. Sorry I wasn't here earlier, I was---"
"Shut up, I don't have the time for sorry excuses. Listen: Trowbridge, White Horse Business Park. Lancelot McFlatherty---"
"Lancelot McFlatherty---like from the Hobgoblins?"
"Yes, the same, and don't interrupt again or I'll jinx you into a jar of apple butter. Anyway, he was reading an old issue of the Quibbler---DON'T YOU DARE INTERRUPT---and it said that Stubby Boardman was actually Sirius Black. Stubby and he were good friends until they had that horrible fight about his supposed affair with Doris Purkiss, and that eventually caused the band to fall apart.
"Well, finding that the affair wasn't just a rumor got him so riled that he turned an entire intersection into quicksand. A circus was passing by---just our luck---and one of their elephants thought it was a watering hole, so he jumped right in. McFlatherty also managed to turn their entire tent into a pair of woman's drawers, go figure. The Obliviators have wiped the memories of all the Muggles that were around, the tent is back to normal, and we've managed to stabilize the elephant by tying him to lampposts and buildings around the city, but we can't stop the quicksand---there's something irregular about it. You can put things into it, but you can't take them out, no matter how hard you try---it's impossible.
"Have you tried drying it up so that it's just a pile of sand?" Ginny suggested.
"Yes!" said Matheson, exasperatedly. There was a pause. "Wait…no."
"Then let's head down there to test it out, shall we?" she replied in a cheerful taunt.
She slipped into a purple robe and they Apparated to Trowbridge, which was crawling with wizards and witches donned in violet, all hovering around a giant sinkhole in an intersection in front of the business park.
"Well, go ahead, tell them," said Matheson, looking deflated. Ginny tapped her collarbone with her wand tip.
"Alright, everyone, we're going to try something different," she said, watching as heads turned to face her. "I want everyone to shoot a Drought Charm right at the quicksand, any part you can reach. Avoid hitting the elephant. I don't think it'd like that much."
There was a collective chortle (apparently they were desperate to lighten the tone of the situation) and a great swell of yellow light. A cloud of steam billowed into the sky, and when it cleared, an amassment of sand surrounded a very unhappy elephant. It wiggled its shoulders and a quarter of the ropes snapped…a half…another quarter… With great effort, the great pachyderm stepped out of the ground, sand rolling off its wrinkly grey skin in heaps.
"Get that thing watered down!" Matheson ordered. "And patch up the street there!"
"I s'pose this wouldn't get me back in the running for a raise, would it?" she asked tentatively with an imploring expression.
"It might, as long as you have a good excuse for taking so long," he said severely.
"You know how I told you I was going to my mother's for the weekend?" He nodded.
"Well, that's where I was. She was ill, and I was taking care of her. I couldn't leave just to check my mail---what if it got worse suddenly, and she needed to go to St. Mungo's?"
Matheson narrowed his eyes at her, as if trying to detect any falsehood, but Ginny was an excellent liar, and passed inspection easily.
"I'll think about it," he said finally. Ginny grinned. That meant, "Yes, I just don't want to seem like a nice boss."
The rest of the day was to pass very smoothly. They de-furred a Muggle Norwegian couple that had been inadvertently hexed by their temperamental, magical toddler when they refused give her an ice-lolly. Then they had headed up to Rona, where a man had filled his neighbor's entire house with margarine. It had taken a while, but eventually they'd Scourgified the building clean. That had happened to be their final run of the day (colour-changing cows could wait---they weren't hurting anyone) so Ginny was free to have dinner at a lonely pub by the sea. Oddly enough, the tender was a very accommodating old man, who made very good fish and chips. They served it with her favourite brand of malted vinegar, and this paired with a warm mug of butterbeer made for a very nice supper.
"So you really don't get much business here, Wally?" Ginny inquired, stabbing her fork into a golden-brown kipper. "That's a right shame. The food is fantastic, and the company isn't too bad," she added with a smirk.
"Aye," Wally replied with a chuckle. "Well, considerin' the town's got four wizards---five on holidays---I don' expect much traffic." A bell tinkled, signaling that the door had opened at the front of the pub. "That'll the secon' one today! New record, that."
Thunder crashed outside, silhouetting a quite tall man in a flash of white. He approached the bar, wiping off his shadowed face and shaking excess rainwater out of his hair. His hand dropped and suddenly the flickering lamplight turned on his face, illuminating it and making the man's identity quite clear.
Ginny couldn't believe it.