Chapter 10

Bill was sitting high in the stands, rows above the Muggle parents watching their kids playing football, when he saw someone climbing the stairs. ″How did you find me?″

Charlie sat down and propped his elbows on the bench behind them. ″It's the track nearest your flat. What is this, anyway?″

″Football. You score by putting the ball in the net, but you can't use your hands.″

Charlie watched the action on the field for a minute. ″Just one ball?″

″Just the one.″

″We missed you at dinner last night.″

″I was working.″

″So you said.″

Bill had owled his mum yesterday afternoon.

″How long are you gonna stay pissed at me?″

Bill shrugged, watching the ball disappear in a clump of wildly kicking kids. ″A while.″

″So, I was right then.″

Bill clenched his jaw, then forced himself to relax. He had already admitted to himself he had been an arrogant arse, expecting everything to go his way without considering Amy's feelings. There was no need to fight with Charlie about it a third time. ″I saw her this morning.″

″How is she?″

″Beautiful. Proud. Formal.″

″What happened?″

″We Apparated in at the same time.″

″And what happened?″

A tall boy scored. Bill sighed. ″I've had friendlier conversations with Snape.″

″She yelled at you?″

″That would have been an improvement.″

″It's only been two days. She'll come round.″

″I just hope she does so by next Wednesday.″ Several parents stood up and yelled.

″What's next Wednesday?″

Bill turned to look at his brother for the first time. ″Ginny's birthday?″

″You invited her to the party?″ Charlie sat up.

″No, Ginny did.″

″Oh, that's all right.″ He relaxed against the bleachers again. ″Amy would stand you up, but not Gin- Gin.″

″Thanks, Charlie.″

″Anytime.″

They were silent for a few minutes, watching the steady progression of the ball (and the mass of kids) down the pitch and back again.

″Mum's holding dinner for you.″

Bill opened his mouth, but Charlie cut him off.

″No, I'm not telling her you had to work again.″ He stood up. ″Let's go. I might even let you beat me at chess after.″

Bill followed him down the row. ″Let me? I could beat you blindfolded.″

Charlie threw a grin over his shoulder. ″You're on.″

()()()()

Bill pressed his hand and wand to the treasure inventory room door and it swung open. Several goblins and a few wizards were working at the tables scattered around the room, identifying, authenticating, and cataloguing the treasure brought back to the Gringotts vaults by the curse breakers. Amy was at the back table, nearly hidden by a large stack of pottery. Bill stood in front of her for long moments. When she didn't look up, he stretched his hand into her field of vision.

She jumped.

"Lunchtime."

"Already?" Amy set down a jade- encrusted urn, rubbing her neck.

She had neither sought him out nor avoided him this week. With both of them often on assignment all over Egypt, they had never managed to develop a standing date. Bill had requested desk duty to keep him in Cairo during his family's visit, but although he was in the bank every day, Amy was busy with Sicktooth, completing the inventory of her last assignment and then evaluating the Muggle artifacts from a new site near the Red Sea. He had only only spoken to her twice, once when they had arrived at the Apparition point on Wednesday morning and again during yesterday's department meeting, which was how he found out about her current assignment in inventory. She was calm and polite but completely professional; no casual touches, no special smiles. She was even dressing differently, all dark robes and pulled- back hair.

"I need a favor."

Amy picked up a small brush and began cleaning a section of stone on the urn's rim. "What kind of favor?"

Okay, not the best opening line. "I'll trade food for shopping. I need to buy Ginny's birthday present."

Her eyes flicked up, then returned to the urn. "What kind of food?"

Bill was tempted to say "anything you want," but he knew the question was a test. What kind of comfort food would Amy want after an emotional quasi- breakup and a tedious work week?

"Cheeseburger and fries?" As he hoped, his use of the American term made her smile, even if it was directed at a clay pot. And something sweet. "Maybe a milkshake?"

"No vinegar. I want ketchup. And real beef."

"Of course." The American blokes favored a pub near the river. They should be able to get good food there.

"All right." She finally set down the little brush and cast protective charms over her table.

Bill cast her a sideways glance as they made their way out of the bank. "Ginny is excited to see you on Wednesday."

"I'll be there."

He let out a breath. "Good. I thought maybe. . . ."

"I'm not going to stand your sister up because you and I are—" Amy waved her hand— "whatever. She'd be mad at both of us."

Bill opened the front door, and they descended the stairs into shimmering heat. "Any idea what she wants for her birthday?"

"Her favorite color is green, her favorite Quidditch team is the Holyhead Harpies, she wears a junior extra- small and a size 35.5 shoe, peach lipgloss looks awesome on her, and she thinks lace underwear is too scratchy. Oh, and one of you could score big- time if you took her to get her ears pierced."

He was dying to ask if that was why he had never seen Amy in lace knickers, but it wasn't exactly a friendly question. "I am not buying knickers for my baby sister."

Amy shrugged, slipping on her sunglasses. "You asked."

Gringotts and the wizarding district were situated in the southeast of the city, bordering the buildings of Old Cairo. A center of commerce for millennia, small restaurants and shops were tucked along narrow, winding lanes like the neighboring Muggle souks. They stopped for lunch first (because Amy insisted on payment before service was rendered), and then she led him into the metalworkers' stalls.

"You asked me on Sunday to buy Ginny whatever the other girls would have, but I honestly have no idea. Between the age difference and me being American and the Egyptian stores, it's too much of a culture clash. But anything with ties to the ancient wizarding cultures was always a status symbol for us, so I was thinking a charm with her name in hieroglyphics. It would be something she would have for always."

"I like the idea of something Egyptian, but I haven't seen her wear jewelry. I don't know what she would like."

Amy grinned. "We've already picked it out."

Of course they had. According to Amy, Ginny favored a simple open link gold chain. When the shop owner passed her the order form for the customization, Bill spelled Ginny's full name, but instead of copying it in English, Amy actually translated it into hieroglyphics— seven pictorial letters marching across the page. Her Arabic might leave a lot to be desired, but her Egyptian, Aramaic, and Gobbledegook were excellent. A good thing for a witch who made her living using her knowledge of indigenous Muggle cultures to expand the goblins' coffers.

"Do you have to get back right away?"

Bill glanced at his watch. "I have some time. Why?"

"I want to get my present too. Oh, don't look like that. I know exactly what I want and where to find them." She led him deeper into the market. "Ginny really liked my silk pajamas, and I thought if I got her a pair with long sleeves and pants, she could take them to school. Silk's a great insulator and much prettier than flannel."

Now those he had seen Amy in. The morning they all had breakfast together, she had paired slinky pink shorts with a cotton vest, but his favorite was her red silk nightshirt. She passed right in front of him as he held the door of the clothing shop open, but she gave no indication that she remembered closing her pajama shirts with a single button "because you're just going to undo them anyway."

Amy was as good as her word. In just a few minutes, they were exiting the shop with a pair of mint- green striped pajamas that had been wrapped in tissue paper and gift- boxed. Bill eyed the purple and green wrapping paper, trimmed with a delicate silver bow that had been charmed to flutter gracefully.

"Are you sure about that? It looks awfully girly for Ginny."

Amy frowned at him. "She is a girl. She wants so badly to fit in with all of you that I think she might have forgotten it herself. She's not another brother, you know."

Bill laid a hand on Amy's back, gently urging her forward when she veered off towards a housewares display. "She's not a girly girl, either."

"Which is why I didn't do anything pink and skipped the flowers and butterflies. Trust me."

"So, other than shopping, what did you two do last weekend?"

"Besides talk about you?"

He winced. Unfortunately, that had not occurred to him until after he had dropped Ginny off.

"Don't worry, I didn't say anything bad. She told me all about your ex- girlfriends, and I taught her how to use a tampon."

Bill made a choking sound and squeezed his eyes shut. He did not need to know that. He really didn't need to know that.

Amy's laughter rang out, and when he opened his eyes, hers were dancing. "Kidding, Bill, I'm kidding. She's only twelve."

"Eleven." That wasn't old enough for— that. Was it?

"You're going to have to say twelve in about five days."

"But not yet. Is she—″

″I don't know. She's old enough, though. I was twelve.″ Amy turned on him suddenly. ″If she is getting her period, don't you say anything to embarrass her.″

″Believe me, I won't say anything.″

Apparently, she did believe him because she began holding her handbag with one hand and digging in the open cavern with the other, not watching where she was going. Bill steered her away from a crowded juice stand.

″What did she say about Lindsay?"

"Who's Lindsay?"

Damn. Amy had been kidding about both topics. "She was my girlfriend at Hogwarts."

"Girlfriend, singular?" She emerged with a pack of gum and offered him a piece.

He took it. "She wasn't the only girl I dated at school, no."

"But something about us has caused you to be thinking about her."

Something Charlie had said, actually. And Lindsay herself. "I never apologized," he blurted. "You were right, Monday night, when you said I had not been a good friend, and I'm sorry."

Amy stopped walking and turned to look at him. Her expression was inscrutable, and Bill had to force himself to hold her gaze.

"Thank you." She resumed walking, and they exited the shade of the souk. "You know it's over, right? No more sex, no more 'benefits.' It's friendship or nothing." Her hand trembled slightly as she pulled her sunglasses off the top of her head and over her eyes again, shielding herself.

"I'll take the friendship," he said quickly, and smiled at her. "Definitely."

"All right then."

It was the first time she had really smiled all week.

()()()()

There was an owl waiting on his desk when Bill arrived back at the bank.

Dear Mr. Weasley,

This year's Defense Against the Dark Arts post will be filled by Remus Lupin. I am certain he would be delighted to help Miss Weasley in any way he may be of assistance. I have included his address below.

In answer to your other questions, I must insist that you speak of your suspicions to absolutely no one. Tom Riddle's diary was thoroughly destroyed when Harry Potter stabbed it with a basilisk fang. The diary was a very powerful dark object, but whatever plans Voldemort may have had for it have been foiled. Except for Miss Weasley, Mr. Ronald Weasley, and Mr. Potter (and presumably Miss Hermione Granger), no one at Hogwarts knows the full story except myself and Professor McGonagall, who, as you know, is the soul of discretion. As I assured Miss Weasley last May, there will be no repercussions against her.

Please give my regards to your parents.

Yours sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

Bill folded the letter from his previous headmaster. No, he would not tell his parents that Dumbledore said hello. That would require telling them that he had written to Dumbledore, and then they would want to know why, and that would not go over well. It seemed Bill and Amy had been right. Dumbledore had been cryptic as to the nature of the curse placed on the diary (had Bill really expected anything else?), but he had specifically mentioned a basilisk fang, and Bill's research in the Gringotts's library had confirmed basilisk venom was one of the few substances that would destroy— those. He would describe Ginny's symptoms and let the new professor draw his own conclusions. Bill pulled ink, quill, and parchment out of his drawer and began to write.

Dear Professor Lupin,

We have never met, but Professor Dumbledore graciously agreed to give me your address when I expressed my wish to contact the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. My name is Bill Weasley, and you will have five of my younger siblings as your students this year: I am proud to say my brother Percy is Head Boy, Fred and George are fifteen- year- old twins (do not turn your back on them for even one second), Ron is a third year pupil, and Ginny is a second year. It is she who has prompted me to write to you.

I am telling you this in confidence since I am sure you can appreciate my family's desire for privacy. Ginny found a diary amongst her textbooks last year. As you might imagine for a girl of her age, she wrote in it often and, when it wrote back to her, considered the diary a friend. What no one, including Ginny, knew, was that the diary was cursed. While writing in it, she experienced periods of memory loss and was not in control of her own behavior. When this came to light, the diary was destroyed with a basilisk fang. However, Ginny continues to exhibit symptoms of a close encounter with dark magic: she is having nightmares on a regular basis, she has developed a new fear of the dark, and she is much more reserved and shy than her usual outgoing personality.

I am a curse breaker for Gringotts in Egypt, and it is my hope to have the opportunity to share with my sister some of my experience in working with cursed objects and recovering from dark magic before she returns to England (my entire family is here on holiday). However, at the moment she is

Stubborn? Obstinate? Scared?

determined to deal with this on her own. I would be very grateful for any extra help you could give her over the course of the school year or any suggestions you may have on how best to help her recover. I have no doubt she would be horrified and hate me forever if she ever found out I shared my concerns with one of her professors, so by all means, please don't say anything to her. She and Ron are quite close; feel free to speak to him if you like.

Thank you very much for your consideration.

Sincerely,

Bill Weasley

()()()()

Amy leaned back against the tub and closed her eyes. She had done okay, right? She thought her lunch break with Bill had gone okay today. As well as could be expected, at least. She had neither slept with him nor hexed him, and she'd been wavering between the two extremes all week. Longer than that, really.

But gods, it hurt. He had been so careful not to touch her, standing back when he held a door for her or dropping his hand immediately when he guided her through the souk. Even when she'd offered him a piece of gum, he'd slid it out of the pack without brushing her hand at all. Like she had spattergroit or dragon pox or something. Like there was something wr—

No, she couldn't go there. She had gone there Monday night, after Charlie left, and it had been very, very bad. Wednesday morning, after that dreadful meet- up at the Apparition point, had not been much better. She had locked herself in the last stall in the witches' restroom, cast her strongest privacy charms (there was a reason she'd never been caught with a boy at school), and cried herself almost sick before her battered pride reminded her she was at work, and cosmetic charms could only hide so much.

Amy used her wand to extend the Cushioning Charm farther down the angled back of the tub. Ah, that was better.

If there was one thing she had learned this week, it was that she and Bill Weasley had never been just friends. There had always been chemistry between them, that primal pull, and it only got stronger after they had allowed their relationship to progress to the physical. She never realized how much she had taken the little smiles and the casual touches and the flirting banter for granted. And while they were annoying when she was trying, albeit feebly, to protect her heart, she missed them now they were gone. But that was what she wanted, wasn't it?

Amy sank deeper into the magically warmed water and scrunched her face up against the tears. No, what she wanted was for Bill to love her back. But he didn't, and it wasn't because there was something wrong with her, and it wasn't anybody's fault. It just was. And she had to figure out a way to deal with it because Ginny's birthday dinner was in five days.

Amy swiped her wet cheeks with a wetter hand and sniffed. That had been fun, teasing Bill about his sister. He obviously adored her; he cared about all of his siblings. He would be great with— She sniffed again. No, this wasn't a productive train of thought, either.

What did she hate about Bill? Surely there was something. She found the idea of fries and vinegar revolting, but you couldn't blame a guy for being raised on the other side of the Atlantic. And his handwriting was atrocious, not to mention the wizard couldn't simply hold a quill. He had to twirl it between his fingers, or tap the shaft against the ink pot, or brush the feather down her spine. . . .

Amy bent her knees and slid underwater, tipping her head back as she surfaced to smooth her hair away from her face. She was pathetic, she was. She let out a little huff that might have been laughter on a better day. Now she was talking like a Brit. Well, Bill wasn't the only British person she knew. She was bound to pick up some of the nuances of language when away from her native dialect.

Okay, she'd look at this the other way. What did she like about Bill, other than his obvious good looks and friendly charm? Amy closed her eyes. She knew why it had been so difficult to break it off, as Charlie had inadvertently reminded her when he commented that he was surprised she was alone. Bill was essentially her only friend here. She had never made friends easily, and when she had first arrived in Egypt last summer, she threw herself into her work. There had been invitations from the other Americans, from some of the British and Egyptian witches she worked with at the bank, but she had turned them all down until finally, when she felt she had a handle on her job and was ready for some fun, everyone stopped asking. But Bill had pursued her, and after they broke up, it was hard to turn him away when it meant sitting home alone. If they were going to make this friends thing work this time (and Amy knew she had to make it work), she was going to have to stretch herself. She frowned, thinking about the bulletin board in the break room. Wasn't there a weekly Arabic conversation group for employees new to the Middle East? She should find out when they met.

Amy squished the still- frothy bubbles between her hands. Living in the magical world was worth it for Aphrodite's Aromatherapy No- Burst Eterna- last Bubble Bath alone. She had no idea if the bubbles really did last forever, but they lasted longer than she'd ever wanted to be in the tub, and that was all that really mattered. She should have bought some for Ginny.

What was she going to do about Ginny's birthday party? Amy would not be able to stand it if Bill flirted with her in front of his family. Then again, what if he didn't? Someone was bound to notice, and she didn't want another conversation with Ginny about Bill. Amy couldn't pretend any more, not now that she had stopped lying to herself. But she couldn't avoid him, either; that would be too obvious. Truth be told, she didn't want to go. Not with this hurt being so fresh, and all the other boys there, and Bill's parents. But she did like Ginny, and Amy had told her she would be there, and she was not going to be another wishy- washy witch. She knew without asking there was someone in Ginny's dorm who was only friendly when it was convenient. There always was in a group of girls, and after the directness of living with boys, Ginny would not have understood. Amy had no desire to hurt Ginny's feelings, not when she had worked to gain the girl's trust. So, she was going.

She sighed and closed her eyes again. She would just have to suck it up. Put on a smile, and flirt with his brothers, and be nice to Bill, and maneuver herself a seat beside Ginny. Or maybe Charlie. . . .

Amy crossed her ankles on the rim of the tub and considered that idea. How much of Charlie's flirting had been to annoy Bill, and how much of it had been sincere? That first night, when she had taken the groceries over, that had been genuine interest in his eyes. And she wasn't an idiot, she knew Bill and Charlie had talked about her. But Charlie had been showing off that day at Thebes, and she was guessing part of it had been to see if Bill was serious about just being friends. She knew that had more to do with the two of them than it did with her. But what about that Saturday she went to talk to Bill and found all the brothers asleep in the floor? And that morning at her apartment . . . plus he'd conjured the throne for her, and nobody had made him bring ice cream to her door. Most men would have run from an emotional situation like that, but Charlie had sought her out, tried to cheer her up. What was it Ginny had said? ″Most witches fawn all over Bill, but it's Charlie who is the better boyfriend. He's the sensitive one.″

Well, she wasn't looking for a boyfriend, just a distraction. Charlie was handsome, interested, and leaving next weekend.

Perfect.

a/n: There's still six and a half weeks left in my Missing Moments Lottery Challenge if anyone is interested: http:/ forum. fanfiction. net/ topic/ 44309/ 55920858/ 1/