Beware: Mrs Weasley non-authorized activities. Consequences of peer pressure ahead…

I never saw Ginny as a bouncy kind of girl. I think there are grit, determination and frustration behind those two fiery eyes. Next chapter will be less fluffy - I promise.

Feel free to comment.


Chapter 4

The incredible powers that are given by Ogden's Old Firewhiskey

Harry wished the day would be over already.

Long after dinner that night, the adults were conversing in a false nonchalant manner around the table and it seemed to Harry they were going to great lengths to ignore the youngsters that were skulking in the living room. Mrs Weasley, with an almost pleading look on her face, was going from Ron to Hermione with a forced smile («Darling, would you like some tea? Some pumpkin juice? Something?») . Harry snorted when he understood that his two friends were trying to be as far from each other as they physically could and were so consumed by the effort of not looking at each other they could not even talk to him.

Harry also noted that Ginny looked pretty much absorbed by her « Young Witch Today » magazine. She had tried to revive the tournament when it was clear that Hermione would be all right, but Harry felt that the sun had turned cold when she stormed back to the house, as the others did not seem ready to go for it anymore. He was sorry that her efforts deemed to nothing and if only she had looked at him, for a tiny second, he would have smiled with his most sympathetic face. But after a long time, she got up, with this stubborn look he had already seen on her and she climbed the stairs to her room without saying goodnight.

Only Fred and George were giving a little attention to him: he gave them a hint of a grin, listening to their chat about their new products, punctuated with their usual caustic retorts. Harry would have liked to talk to Lupin, but something in his eyes made him renounce to make contact.

Earlier that night, Harry had blown tthe candles on his cake with a fake smile, forcefully wishing the return to family peace.

As Harry could not bear reading again the same page of « The Daily Prophet », he unenthusiastically considered going up to bed. Fred sat beside him and slipped, « Why don't you come out with us for a while? It is a nice night out and we were thinking to light a bonfire.»

That felt good enough for Harry: he did not want to get stuck in the same room with contorted-faced Ron and murderous-looking Hermione anymore. He got up slowly and followed the twins out. «Don't come back too late!» cried Mrs Weasley from the other side of the house. «No, Mum,» Fred and George answered in perfect unison.


Upstairs, a red-haired teen witch is furiously writing.

I am going to kill them. They get so engrossed by each other they forget that other people revolve around them. My brother is the worst: getting paranoid with all that competition crap she's putting on. She's the worst flirt, what was she trying to prove? She does not look like herself anymore. She should have known that this would lead Ron into throwing a fit.

She scares me: all that blood…It is just not normal PLUS she is talking in her sleep and she cries for help. She looked so tired on her broom today.

I asked Ron if he could sleep in our room two nights ago. He looked like I was asking for the moon, but he slept in the bed with me, as we use to do when we were kids and we were afraid of the big bad goblin that could come out from under my bed. When she started to scream, he understood why I'm so freaked out to sleep in the same room as her.

The Healers at St. Mungo's said she was going to be okay, Madam P. said she's going to be okay, Mum is saying she's getting better, so why is she's looking so thin then? Why's Professor Lupin reading all those books about superior hexes? Why's Mum writing to Professor Snape, three times a week?

I've seen her back when we swam in the pond yesterday. I could see her ribs under her skin. Ron noticed it too and he looked worried. Why did he try to decapitate her just now? Was it a fancy way to tell her he's worried?

She said she still has a small mark on her stomach but she did not want to show it to me. Mum said she's experiencing the residual from the hex that the Death Eater conjured her.

And now Hermione made me swear not to tell Harry. He's going to be so angry when he finds out. She said she doesn't want to worry him. I told her that it was too late, Harry has worry tattooed on his face now, fire burning in his eyes and clenched jaws. He smiles and he looks like he's going to cry. It breaks my heart.

He is worried for us as he did not have enough of worrying for his own life.

I am furious. I have worked my ass off so that damn game could happen. I saw so many times Harry fly when he's angry. He's like a storm and I yearn each time to be near him so I can feel this incredible energy that oozes from him.

I don't know if he knows how much energy passes from him to me, but I know he feels good after a flight, when he's worked so hard his legs are shaking. We're the same on this: Quidditch is just the best way to evaporate anger. I've been flying a lot lately. A lot. I did all this because I had the feeling he would be angry.

When he opened the door this morning, he looked stronger. Determined. I saw something in his eyes, though: his lips were twitching. He was weary at what I was going to say. I wanted to scream, «I'm here, don't you see? I've worked so hard to convince Mum I was not in danger if I came along. When will you understand what you mean to me?»

I think he's not used to people liking him for him. They all see the scar first and get so reverent around him. I saw it too and I'm ashamed now I was at first paralysed by it.

I feel more like kicking his sorry ass now. He's so used to be alone he does not realize how powerful he could be with others around. And when I say that, I mean not just letting them revolve around him but letting them come in, for real.

Luna once reflected that even when Harry is playing Quidditch, he's a loner because there is only one Seeker in a team and he's looking by himself for the Golden Snitch. She's so right: he looked amazed today that I could reach him everywhere on the pitch, like he was surprised somebody could see him.

We're a team, bloody Harry Potter, even if you won't acknowledge it. I've been studying you closely, and I have to admit I put much more effort in this than in all the other subjects in school. I know how you move, I know how you think, I can predict the expression on your face and what you'll say. I know what means the smallest crinkle in your face and the faintest twinkle in your eye.

I'm trying to think one step ahead of you so I may see when you will try to work up your usual routine of throwing us out of the way. And don't pull that sympathy crap on me, I'll get furious. You don't want me getting furious.

This morning, I had to insist a little so I could follow him to his room. I worked my way up the stairs, and he seemed so full of himself – he had a smug face, exactly like his father had on that picture Mad-Eye Moody lent me. But then I recognized that expression again. He was ashamed to show me how he lived.

Harry Potter was ashamed to face me. Me. I got so sad I had to turn my back on him. I wanted to tell him I used to know what it is to be alone even they are loads of people around. I decided after my first year at Hogwarts I never wanted to be alone again.

The picture obsesses me. When I asked Mr Moody if I could get a copy, he looked stunned. He did not understand why I wanted a picture of people I don't even know. He flatly refused at first because he said he did not want me to loose it, but I said that I wanted to study it. His eye went right through my soul and he lent me the picture for a week. I watched it so many times. I just have to close my eyes to see it come alive.

This picture scares me. When Dad takes my picture, I can't help but think that someone will look at it one day and will wonder about what I was thinking at that particular moment. What would have those people – Harry's parents, Sirius, Neville's parents - have done if they knew what was going to happen to them? I think about that all the time before I go to sleep. We are ineluctably coming towards the end of that war that Dad said has started.

Everything has an end, and everything will begin again.

I don't want to wait for him to come around. I've seen his face in his room. I've seen his face when he wiped my cheeks. The picture is the proof that waiting is not an option anymore. I need to know. Now.

I'm taking this in my own hands. My bloody brothers better not say a word about this.


A small bonfire was set near the tree line. They silently walked towards it, Fred carrying old quilts so they would not get cold and George leading them while holding a wicker basket full of fireworks.

Harry sat on a log while Fred and George lit the fire. Soon after, Harry heard the familiar pop and snap and he absorbed himself into the orange, red and yellow flames that were licking the dry wood and rising to the sky. He shivered. Fred lent him a quilt as he sniffed, «You'll need this, mate. You'll be warmer.»

Harry took the worn quilt and felt something solid between the folds. He fumbled a bit with the fabric and firmly grabbed the object in it as he got closer to the fire. He was holding a small flask that seemed to be full with an amber liquid. He could read on the label «Ogden's Old Firewhiskey, since 1560 ».

Fred looked at him with glee, « Happy Birthday, old chap. Ron and Hermione are the worst for giving you a happy one, but we thought you had the maturity to appreciate our gift. » Harry was undecidedly holding the flask and answered back, a little surprise, « Thanks, Fred, but I'm not sure…»

Fred silenced him with a hand gesture, « Aw, come on. There is not enough to get us drunk, we'll just get a taste of it. The only thing is, for very evident reasons, Mum cannot see this.» Fred moved a bit on his log and Harry could see his eyes glistening as he said, «Anyway, we can share. No need to get yourself hammered. Come on, open it!»

Harry slowly nodded, weighing the flask in his hand. He cracked the seal open and carefully sniffed the content: it had a strong and caramelized aroma that made his eyes water. A little undecided, Harry could not help but ask , «Are you sure you're not trying to make me drink your Hairy Ears potion?»

George flashed him a mocking outraged look as he claimed, « Harry, who do you think we are? True stuff. Guaranteed. Wait, we'll do this the right way.» From a flick of his wand, he conjured three glasses that floated to Harry.

Harry gingerly poured a few drops of the Firewhiskey in each glass and two of them lazily floated back to the twins. He took his glass, smelled again the whiskey and George drew his glass to him, with an awful French accent, «San-tay

Harry took a sip and tears immediately went up to his eyes. It was so hot, terribly hot and his throat was in fire: he could feel the burn going down to his stomach. His fingers tingled: a shiver went down his spine.

Harry decided he liked the feeling. He felt a little rebellious now, a little defiant as if the Firewhiskey has giving him the power to eventually snap very good retorts at his two friends… his lame friends that did not care at all about him today.

Indulging in a bit of self-pity, Potter?

You bet.

He did not need them tonight. Nope.

The twins were closely watching him, liking their lips, waiting for a verdict. Harry smiled as he brushed the back of his hand on his suddenly sweaty forehead, « Brilliant. Another sip, gents?»

«But what do you think you're doing

A stern voice made Harry jolt. As he was turning around with a sincere ashamed look on his face, Harry saw Hermione and Ginny, standing side to side, the latter grabbing the arm of the former. Hermione looked appalled when she saw him with the small glass in his hand. Her eyes became fiery and her cheeks coloured, the purple graze on her cheek almost fading in contrast. She looked at him with an astounded face, « Harry! Are you…drinking? You're… DRINK…»

Fred jumped to his feet and firmly put his hand on her mouth while pulling her to him. Hermione's eyes were wide open and Harry could not tell if she was angry or stunned. Fred said in a low voice, « Well, at least don't get us caught if you don't approve. It's his birthday: why don't you let him have a little fun for once? It looks like Ron and you, Miss Smarty-Pants, have failed on this today. Stop ruining his life and let him celebrate as he wishes.»

Hermione freed herself from Fred and Ginny and let herself drop on the log to Harry's side. He could feel the coldness of her hand when she grabbed his and she blinked a few times when she drew her face closer.

She spoke softly and Harry could see her trembling chin, « I'm so sorry for all this. It's a mess. You're so right to be angry with me and Ron.»

Harry saw tears in her eyes. He looked away: he had seen enough crying today and he was trying not to let his new resolutions fail. He took a piece of wood off the ground and stirred up the fire. In a complete silence, Ginny sat on the other side of the bonfire, Fred throwing a quilt on her shivering shoulders. Over the bonfire, Harry's eyes met Ginny's: they were glistening and Harry felt that Firewhiskey has accorded to him a new power. He could look in those eyes for a long, long time without flinching. Ginny was the first one to downcast her eyes, as she looked a little troubled.

Ha!

Harry felt triumph overcome him and he could feel his face contorting itself into a tough, defiant expression.

Who's the one in shame now?

After a lot of debating from Ginny,s part, George summoned two more glasses. Taking the Firewhiskey flask from Harry's hands, he poured five shots and the glasses floated back to them. « So, why don't we toast Granger for her master-work, that is, driving our little Ronniekins to unleash the beast we always knew he had within?» said George, gulping his Firewhiskey, his face turning red. Ginny retorted quickly, «That's not fair, George. Ron is the idiot here, please remember.»

From the corner of his eyes, Harry could see Hermione holding back her tears as she was looking at the roaming fire. Harry felt bad for her: he was not really angry - annoyed at her, but not angry.

The Firewhiskey's power was fading. Maybe another shot would help.

But she looked so sad Harry could not help himself: he rubbed her shoulder and drew her to him. Harry said softly, his mouth against her tangled hair, « Don't worry. I'm just happy you were not hurt badly.» Hermione did not utter a word: she rested her head on Harry's shoulder.

« I'd like to toast my little sister Ginny, who has showed tremendous courage today. Oh yeah, she's definitely a true Gryffindor, » Fred added with a smirk. Ginny, who was turning her glass between her fingers, gave him a quick glimpse, «And what does that mean?»

Fred took his time and said, as he was revealing a long kept secret, « Well, slapping a man who's already on his knees takes courage, don't you think?» Harry looked at Ginny as she was turning red and he saw she looked mortified. He could not help thinking that Ginny looked like a bonfire herself, with all that red, orange and yellow in her hair.

She raised her glass, a determined look on her face,« Well, I'm toasting my git of a brother Ron, who showed us today that the expression "dying from embarrassment" is an understatement.» In a dramatic gesture, she drank it straight up and started coughing, wincing and pulling her tongue out as she whispered, «Blimey, this is…strong

Harry took his glass, a hand still on Hermione's shoulder. He raised it and for a reason, he could not look anybody in eye but Ginny as he said quietly, «To my friends.» He had in his glass this time much more than a few drops of whiskey but he gulped it at once.

Don't cough.

You eluded a dragon. You can do this.

Ginny's eyes had the same undecipherable look he had seen on her earlier but he could read that smile.

She's happy. I made her happy.

Hermione suddenly sat up and with a determined hand, she drew the floating glass to her nose as she sniffed the content. Fred almost convulsed in shock as George bantered with a taunting voice,« Is Miss Granger ready to experience alcohol? What effect will have Firewhiskey on her perfect brain? Will she find the strength to-» but Hermione interrupted him. «Happy Birthday, Harry.» Harry watched her down the content of her glass. Her cheeks were pink as she smirked at him: she sent back her glass to George who looked at her with a newfound admiration, and she said with a choked voice, «Not bad. Maybe I could get a refill.»

Hermione's words seemed to lift a heaviness that was lingering over the group. They started to laugh and to taunt each other. Harry felt euphoric and Hermione's unusually loud laughs to his side were comfort to him. She passed the quilt over their shoulders and soon Harry was really warm: the bonfire was warming his face, the Firewhiskey warmed his stomach, Hermione's body to his side was warming his arm and leg and those blazing eyes looking at him were warming everything else.

George sent back the glasses and they toasted again. Fred lighted the fireworks and they exclaimed themselves very loudly as the sky was colouring itself in outrageous colours.

Harry predicted that Firewhiskey could also have the power to make his legs feel like they were under a Tarantallegra spell if he got up. Hermione had snuggled up to him and she looked calmer and relaxed. Fred was holding his sister against him in a surprisingly affectionate manner and Ginny was faking her best fight against him. When he started to tickle her, she escaped from him and ran into the darkness, her laugh tinkling in the cool summer air. George and Fred went after her, their legs a little wobbly.

Suddenly, Hermione whispered to Harry, « Do you think Ron likes me?» Harry bowed his head to her and in a rather bold move certainly induced by all the new powers he was getting from Ogden's, he asked her back, « Does Ginny still like me, you think?»

Harry could smell her chocolate and Firewhiskey breath as she drew her face closer, « You're joking, right? She adores you. Always has. Oh!», she said, covering her mouth in a very slow movement, « She'd kill me if she knew I told you this.»

Yeah, I always knew she liked me but I don't know why I really need to be sure of this now.

Harry insisted, trying to take advantage of Hermione's looser self, «But she went out with Michael…Isn't she going out with Dean now?» Hermione snorted, resting her chin on his shoulder,« She's taking all this dating quite lightly, if you catch my drift.» Harry felt calmer than the Dead Sea as he blurted, « Two Weasley will now have a good reason to kill us. Ron may be a git but he's a Hermione-fancying sort of git.»

Hermione's face was set ablaze: she threw her arms around Harry's neck and they fell back in a mess of quilts. As they were laughing and trying to liberate themselves from the fabric, a morose voice stunned them, «Need help?»

Harry and Hermione stopped their struggling and tried to get a glimpse at the tall silhouette towering them. Ron was standing, his hands deeply shoved into his pockets, his steely eyes fixed upon them. Hermione managed to get out of the quilt and stood up. She staggered a bit and Ron's brooding face turned incredulous.

«Hermione, you look… drunk,» slowly stated Ron, trying to register what was going on. Hermione slicked her jeans with her palms and tugged a little too strongly on her sweater. She took a few uncertain steps forward and shrugged, «Maybe. Do you have a problem with…that?» Ron pursed his lips and sternly said, « If I have a problem with that? Well, if my two best friends are drinking Firewhiskey and they are not sharing, I think I may have a problem with that.»

Hermione punctuated her words tapping gently a finger on Ron's chest, « Ooooh…You mean we're still best friends.» Ron had the decency not to laugh at Hermione's dishevelled appearance and quietly said, his ears turning red, «I really did not want to hurt you. I'm sorry the Bludger hit you. I was afraid that…» Hermione nodded with energy and Ron had to hold her arm to steady her when she tried to whisper but cried instead,« I…forgive you…everything, Ron. Everything you have done to me and everything you'll ever -»she hiccupped and continued,« -do to me. I pardon you, my friend.»

Harry saw a grin on Ron's face: the red-haired teen was doing his best to look insulted at Hermione's insinuation that he would mess up again, but it was a lost cause. Ron tried not to laugh at Hermione's serious but convinced face and Harry felt that it was the funniest thing he had ever seen in his life. He laughed silently, biting his lips, lying flat on his back in the grass.

Ginny, Fred and George arrived, panting, just in time to hear Hermione say, « Now, Ron, bring me to bed.»

Harry laughed in his hands while Ron turned Howler red. Hermione poked him with her elbow as she was holding her face in her hands, looking really embarrassed even if she was drunk as Ogden's must have been when he developed his famous liquor. She said, coughing, «I mean, help me to my bedroom. If your mother sees me like this, she'll kill me. Oh,» she said, with the incoherence proper to the drunken state of mind, « Thanks, thanks, dear friend, my friend.»

Hermione threw her arms around Ron's neck, and he let her do so, his arms dangling at his sides and incomprehension softening his features. Harry could see Fred and George wiggling their brows in a suggestive manner, leading Ron to demonstrate them a rude gesture behind Hermione's back as he finally draw an arm around her to lead her back home.

Fred and George extinguished the fire with a flick of their wand and they staggered behind them. Harry was holding his stomach that was really hurting from all the laughter he was trying to muffle and he rolled again in the perfumed grass. Soon after, Ginny fell besides him, in a cascade of giggles.

Harry turned his head to her: Ginny was trying to catch her breath as she was trying to not laugh out loud. He saw her crinkled nose and her eyes shut.

You like me.

She turned to him, still giggling softly. In the darkness of the night, Ginny spoke with a small tremor of laugh in her voice, « It should be so simple for them.» Harry was still laughing as he asked, «What? What should be so simple for them?»

Ginny smiled again, the moonlight catching her eyes, «Two twits clearly taken by each other. It should be really simple.» Harry shrugged with a smile and he turned back his eyes to the sky. He mentally patted himself on the shoulder for being quite a poet when he said loudly it looked like a precious velvet fabric displaying the stars.

Then, he heard Ginny's voice, so low he was not sure he was hearing right, «It's much tougher if there is only one twit.»

Harry turned his head again only to see Ginny's now determined eyes facing him. His own smile faded: he nervously gulped and he wanted to retort something, something very intelligent and unbelievably smart with all the incredible powers that were given to him by Ogden's Old Firewhiskey, but she moved closer to him in a swift move and her lips brushed his before he could utter a word.

Ginny jumped to her feet and her caressing voice was muffled by the wind that was blowing harder now. Lying on his back, feeling that all of the Firewhiskey's almighty powers had vanished, Harry heard her say, « I may only wish that you had a happy birthday after all, Harry Potter.»


To be continued