Chapter 7 - Two Gifts and a Quarrel
The thin clouds scudded across the sky, revealing the full moon which illuminated the family of rabbits lolloping contentedly through the Weasleys’ back garden. A human sound broke the stillness of the night causing the adult rabbits of the warren to freeze, quickly assessing the risk of remaining out in the open. After a few moments, evidently deciding that there was no immediate danger, they soon returned their attention to the tender young shoots in Arthur Weasley’s vegetable patch, nibbling calmly again. Drifting clouds obscured the moon once more, throwing the patch-pilfering into darkness, the only light now a soft glow coming from the old broomshed.
Hermione giggled again from within the shed. Ron, presently occupied with kissing every bare bit of skin he could find on her face and neck, was somewhat put out by the sound. He pulled away, his hands dropping to his sides, and sighed heavily.
“That’s funny now?” he muttered, obviously hurt.
Hermione reached her hand up to rub his forehead with her thumb, in an attempt to remove the annoyed crease there. “Ron ...” she whispered. “Don’t be like that. It just tickled, that’s all.” She smiled almost shyly at him as she dropped her voice even lower. “I do like it.”
Ron’s expression softened immediately. “Yeah?”
She nodded, still smiling, and brought her hand up to the back of his head to return his mouth to her neck. He promptly resumed his previous actions, deciding that he wouldn’t mind really if she giggled again.
Some time later, the two of them had taken a breather and were gazing in silence at each other. It was Hermione who first broke the quiet when she sighed and said, resignedly, “We should head back.”
“Already?” Ron replied distractedly, trying to catch her lips with his again.
Hermione smiled at the disappointment in his tone. “It’s been over an hour, Ron,” she pointed out. “The Spider Repelling Charm won’t hold much longer.”
His head snapped up. “Why didn’t you say so?” He hastened to the door, grabbing his lit wand from a nearby shelf as he did. “Come on, then,” he urged, beckoning her forward.
As they snuck back to the house, pausing along the way for a few more stolen kisses, Hermione squeezed Ron’s hand as they reached the back door of the house.
“I’ll be glad when we get to school,” she said.
Ron grinned at her. “Really? You? I’m stunned.”
She gave him a withering look though the corners of her mouth were twitching. “I meant so we don’t have to sneak around as much to be together.”
Ron’s face was quite serious when he again pulled her close to assure her that he felt the same.
“You’re not sleeping, are you?” Ron demanded as he entered his bedroom a few minutes later.
Harry, who had been feigning sleep since he’d heard footsteps outside the door, opened his eyes immediately. “I am when your mother comes calling at the door at this time of night,” he retorted pointedly. “Saves some bloody awkward questions concerning the whereabouts of her youngest son and his girlfriend.”
“She checked tonight? I could’ve sworn she was sleeping when we snuck out.”
“Not tonight, no, but yesterday and three nights before that ...”
Ron chuckled as he changed for bed.
Harry propped himself up on his elbow to glare at his friend. “Yeah. You might laugh.” He pretended to think about it. “Wonder if you’ll still be laughing when Ginny and I decide to have a go at the broomshed tomorrow night?”
Ron’s face fell abruptly. “You wouldn’t.”
Harry was suddenly preoccupied with finding and putting away the book he had been reading when he’d heard Ron at the door, and therefore didn’t reply.
Ron, apparently deciding that he would rather not pursue that particular conversation, began another as soon as he had settled between his sheets. “Do I get to see it then?”
Harry frowned. “See what?”
“The ring for Ginny. You did get one today didn’t you?”
Harry grinned in the dark. “Yeah. I did.”
“Well?”
But Harry was shaking his head. “Not yet. Not until she does.”
The two lapsed into silence until Harry thought of something else. “Speaking along the same lines ... did you ask Mr. Granger tonight?”
Ron sighed heavily. “No,” he replied glumly. “Too many ruddy relatives at their house. Hermione’s mum had gone and invited all the aunts and uncles and whatnot. Couldn’t get a word alone with the man all evening.”
Harry shook his head knowingly. “Knew you should have broached the topic back when you two were alone with them after the return from Australia ...”
Ron scoffed loudly at the suggestion. “Yes, well, I couldn’t very well go and ask Mr. Granger for his daughter’s arm“”
“Hand.”
““ hand in marriage while he couldn’t bloody well remember he had a daughter now, could I?”
“We leave for Hogwarts in two days’ time,” Harry reminded him. “What’ll you do now?”
“Well,” said Ron, thinking about it, “I could always send a letter with Pig ...” He gestured to his owl pecking quietly in her cage.
Harry sat bolt upright in bed. “You’re going to ask for Mr. Granger’s permission to marry his daughter by owl post?” Harry heard the higher pitch of his voice from the shock at Ron’s statement.
But Ron looked honestly perplexed. “Yeah. So?”
Harry slipped the ring out of its velvet supports to get a closer look. He was glad that he’d had the stones changed, the new ones were much more fitting. Looking down at it, he suddenly had half a mind to give it to Ginny sooner rather than later. After all, in the coming weeks with only the professors and a handful of students present at Hogwarts, Harry was confident he would be able to find a private moment to offer it. With a slight smile to himself, though, he recalled the image he’d had in his head for weeks of giving the ring to Ginny on Christmas morning, and decided to keep with his original plan.
He gave a start when he heard voices outside Ron’s bedroom door.
“I can’t believe you’re not packed yet, Ron,” Hermione remarked shrilly. “We leave in just over an hour! What on earth were you thinking?”
Quickly, Harry pushed the ring back into its bed of velvet, snapped close the box, tucking it away in the bottom of his trunk. It was just safely out of sight when the door opened and his friends walked in.
“What are you yelling at me for?” Ron demanded. “Harry’s not packed either!”
“Don’t be silly,” Hermione replied, “Harry’s been up here since breakfast. I’m sure he’s ... he’s ... ” Her voice trailed off as she glanced around the room and saw the piles of Muggle clothing, school robes, textbooks, and other necessities strewn about in no particular order. She sighed her exasperation. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Harry! Not you, too?” She shook her head as she reached for her wand. “Honestly! Why you two leave things to the last minute is beyond me. Ginny and I have been ready for ages.” She strode purposefully to the centre of the room and raised her wand. Before she had directed the first load of clothes towards the open trunk, Harry stopped her.
“NO!” he bellowed, springing to his feet to clutch her wand hand in his own. “Don’t!”
“Don’t you speak to her like that!” Ron snapped, wrenching Harry’s hand away from his girlfriend’s. “What the hell’s the matter with you?”
The look on Hermione’s face chastised Harry more than anything Ron could say. His anger evaporating as quickly as it had flared, he felt oddly deflated. With the back of his eyes prickling uncomfortably, he sank down heavily onto Ron’s bed, the old springs groaning their sympathy.
“Sorry,” he muttered, avoiding his friends’ eyes.
Hermione was beside him immediately, her hand on his shoulder.
“What is it, Harry?” she said softly. “What’s wrong?”
Harry swallowed thickly before answering, miserably, “Tonks.”
“Tonks,” Hermione repeated, her brow creased in confusion. Still glaring in Harry’s direction, Ron didn’t speak.
“Yeah.” Harry sighed heavily. “Tonks. When the Order fetched me before fifth year, I hadn’t packed yet so she did it for me. When you were ...” He waved his hand vaguely towards the centre of the room. “It reminded me, I suppose. Bit stupid.”
“Don’t be silly,” Hermione replied promptly. “It’s understandable.”
Harry was shaking his head, not convinced. “I wasn’t even thinking of her, that’s what’s daft. I was“”
“That’s how it works, though, isn’t it, mate?” Ron didn’t look at them as he spoke, but kept his eyes fixed on a pile of clothes on the floor. “You go along, minding your own business, then wham it just hits you, doesn’t it? You remember and“” His voice cracked and he turned away suddenly, but Harry was sure he was wiping his eyes.
He could tell that Hermione was torn between respecting Ron’s need for privacy and her desire to offer him comfort. Before she could make up her mind, the door opened again and Ginny entered the room. She grinned when she saw the obvious lack of packing progress but her face soon grew serious when she caught sight of the others’ expressions.
“Whoa,” she remarked lightly. “Who died?”
Harry’s eyes met hers. “Everyone.”
“Oh,” said Ginny, her air escaping with a whoosh as she dropped down on the other side of him. Harry could see that her eyes were beginning to glisten with unshed tears as they had so often over the past few months. “Right.”
The others didn’t speak, simply nodding morosely at her.
Despite the delay in packing brought about by the unexpected grief, Ron, Harry, Hermione, and Ginny managed to complete the necessary tasks in record time. Mrs. Weasley was nevertheless quite frantic when the quartet finally emerged from the upstairs bedrooms, their levitated trunks bobbing along behind like agreeable floating pets.
Only just heading up the stairs herself to see what was taking so long, she remarked as she saw them descend, “Well, it’s about time. I was just coming to see what had happened. You’ve only got twenty minutes before the Headmistress expects you.”
“We’re Apparating, Mum,” Ron pointed out. “It’s not like we’re flying or anything.”
“That’s as may be,” Mrs. Weasley countered, “but you do still have to walk from Hogsmeade to the school!”
Ron wisely kept his mouth shut and followed the others into the kitchen.
“Do you have everything?” asked Mr. Weasley, who’d stayed back from work to see them off. At the others’ murmured agreement, he added, “Of course, we can always send you anything you’ve forgotten.”
Mrs. Weasley was thrusting packets of food into their hands.
“When are we going to eat these?” Ginny demanded. “We’ll be there in less than a minute!”
“Just in case,” Mrs. Weasley replied, “just in case.”
Ron and Hermione exchanged a smile at this but didn’t speak. Harry knew the sandwiches would be gone before they’d even entered the main doors of the school.
As everyone gathered their jackets and raised the trunks again, heading for the back door, Harry remembered something.
Setting his trunk back on the floor, he hastily opened it, pulling out two wrapped packages. “I forgot these,” he said.
“Presents? Who’re those for?” Ron demanded.
Somewhat sheepish, Harry shrugged. “Your parents.”
“What?” said Mrs. Weasley, taken aback.
“Don’t be daft,” added her husband. “What do we need gifts for?”
“Just about everything,” Harry retorted with a grin, and handed him the larger of the two packages.
Mr. Weasley, fully aware of the time crunch, quickly ripped off the paper, his face bright with pleasure and anticipation. To his credit, the light in his eyes just barely faded as he saw the title of his new book: Hens and Their Care. With a somewhat stiff smile, he said, “Thank you Harry. Thank you very much.”
With barely a nod, Harry passed the other gift to Mrs. Weasley. “And this is for you,” he said, rather unnecessarily.
Mrs. Weasley had soon revealed the small object inside. She gasped when she caught sight of the silver locket Harry had found in his vault at Gringotts. “Harry,” she breathed. “It’s beautiful.”
He couldn’t stop the broad grin that split his face. “I think it was my mother’s.”
Mrs. Weasley shook her head. “Then I can’t possibly accept it, dear. You should keep it.”
Harry wasn’t sure but he thought he saw Ginny glaring at him. He responded to Mrs. Weasley before he could dwell too much on it. “No,” he said firmly. “I wanted you to have it.”
“But Harry“”
“I insist.”
She was pushing the locket at him. “I couldn’t possibly“”
“Mrs. Weasley, please, I’d like to give it to you.”
“But Harry“”
“No more buts.” Was that another glare from Ginny? “Please. After everything you’ve done for me? I want you to have it.”
Mrs. Weasley was still trying to get him to take it back. “Harry, I can’t possibly“”
“Would you just take it, Mum!” Harry blurted out. Too late, he realized what he’d said. Embarrassed, his cheeks burned and he barely noticed the grins of the others at his slip.
Mrs. Weasley, though, seemed remarkably unflustered. She immediately stopped thrusting the necklace at him. With an affectionate smile, she leaned in, kissed him on the cheek and murmured, “Thank you, dear.”
With a quick glance at his watch, Harry gestured somewhat impatiently, although discreetly, at Ron. Immediately, Ron nodded. “Wait until you see what’s inside, ladies,” he said, surreptitiously leading them away from Harry and Mr. Weasley. With a flourish, he opened the locket for them to show the pictures Harry had added of the two young couples. Ignoring the squeals of delight that greeted this demonstration, Harry quickly pulled Mr. Weasley aside.
“So you like the book?” he said, a sly grin on his face.
“Of course, Harry,” Mr. Weasley replied politely, the stiff smile still in place.
Harry shook his head at the other man’s impeccable manners. “Open it,” he whispered.
Puzzled, Mr. Weasley did.
“Haven’t you ever heard the Muggle expression ‘Don’t judge a book by its cover’?” Harry asked, tapping the book with his wand. “Only when you repeat the incantation ‘fronti nulla fides’, does it reveal its true form.”
“No reliance can be placed on appearance?” Mr. Weasley remarked, translating the Latin.
Harry nodded and pointed to the book that was slowly starting to change; the photos and descriptions concerning the care of domestic hens gradually fading into diagrams and explanations on the maintenance and repair of motorbikes.
Mr. Weasley, his eyes wide, opened his mouth to speak a few times each time closing it again. Finally, beaming widely, he managed to whisper, lest his wife overhear, “Harry. This is tremendous! Where did you find it?”
“At a Muggle shop when I was in London. I figured you could use it on Sirius’ bike.”
Mr. Weasley, still beaming, was nodding as he flipped through the book. “Absolutely,” he said, his voice revealing the awe at what he was seeing. “Absolutely.”
Harry quickly tapped the book again as Mrs. Weasley approached. It immediately returned to its previous appearance.
With Mrs. Weasley bustling them all to the back garden, there was time now for only a few last thank yous and some quick hugs before trunks were gathered, wands raised, and Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny left The Burrow to start their last year at Hogwarts.
The four had soon Apparated into Hogsmeade. They were very nearly late so Harry, Hermione and Ron quickly levitated their trunks and headed up the path to the school.
After a few strides Harry noticed that Ginny hadn’t moved and was still standing where she’d Apparated. “Aren’t you coming?” he called back to her.
“No.” She glared at him before muttering, “Not with you anyway.”
Harry’s heart sank. Those dirty looks she’d been casting his way since he’d given Mrs. Weasley the locket hadn’t been his imagination after all.
He returned to her side. “What’s wrong?”
She ignored his question, asking one of her own instead. “Where’d you get the locket you gave Mum? Wasn’t it your mother’s?”
Inwardly, Harry breathed a sigh of relief, realizing she was just jealous. She had wanted the locket.
“Ginny, I was going to give it to you but“”
“Blimey, Harry, exactly how petty do you think I am? It’s fine that it went to Mum. It makes perfect sense. No, what’s bothering me is that if it belonged to your mother, it had to be at Gringotts and if it was there you had to go and get it.”
Harry noticed that Ron and Hermione had returned to them. Before he could dwell too much on the fact that they were listening, Ginny was speaking again.
“Why Gringotts?” she demanded.
“It’s the only wizarding bank in“”
“Why did you go to Gringotts?” she said, her tone one of obvious exasperation.
“To get gold to pay your mum back,” he replied promptly. Too promptly. “You know that.”
Ginny peered at him shrewdly for a few moments. “Okay. What else?”
“I told you. Your Christmas present.” Realizing he wasn’t quite meeting her gaze, Harry quickly forced himself to look her in the eye. “I needed money for that didn’t I?” He was vaguely aware that Ron and Hermione’s heads were flitting from Ginny to him and back again, like some sort of bizarre tennis match.
Ginny was still watching him closely. “And the fact,” she said after a few moments, “that you’ve never so much as thought of Christmas until at least the twenty third of December...?”
When Harry didn’t respond straight away, she went on, “You’re obviously hiding something from me, you didn’t tell anyone where you were going and why, especially me, you put yourself in danger, and you went in alone to“”
“He wasn’t alone,” blurted out Ron. “George was with him.”
Harry knew immediately that that was the absolute worst thing that Ron could have said.
Ginny’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “My brothers knew, but I didn’t?” she spat out. She shook her head in disbelief. “You still see me as a child, don’t you? That’s it, isn’t it? I thought we were past all that. I thought we’d left that back in the Room of Requirement during the battle last year when you sided with my parents because you thought I couldn’t handle myself. I guess I was wrong.”
Hermione grabbed for the strap of her trunk, pulling Ron after her. Harry barely heard them as Ron argued that he wanted to stay, Hermione insisted they leave. She finally succeeded in leading him towards Hogwarts and away from the impending row.
Harry stared into Ginny’s blazing eyes, hot anger of his own bubbling to the surface. “That’s not it. I don’t think that.”
“What is it then?” Ginny demanded. “You obviously don’t trust me enough to include me in your secret plans.”
Despite his anger, Harry hesitated, thinking of the box in his trunk. It would be so easy to explain, to let her know the real reason he didn’t tell her of his trip to London that day. With a sigh, he decided against it and chose instead to simply say quietly, “There was a reason.”
“Which is?” Her hands were on her hips now.
Harry didn’t reply. He suddenly felt sick to his stomach.
“Aren’t you going to tell me?” she demanded.
Harry swallowed hard. It would be so easy... With another sigh, he merely shook his head.
Without a word, Ginny grabbed for her trunk and stormed away.
“Ginny!”
She didn’t reply.
“Ginny, come back!”
She stopped but didn’t turn around. “Save it, Potter,” she hissed at him. “You don’t think I’m important enough in your life to confide in me. Last year you used Voldemort as an excuse. But that wasn’t it at all, was it?”
She faced him finally for her parting shot. “If that’s how you want it, I guess we’re finished.” With that, she spun on her heel and hurried to catch up to Ron and Hermione.
Harry could feel a lump forming in his throat at her words as he reached for his trunk and ran after her. “Ginny, that’s not true!” The anger was rising again. “Would you just wait a minute, damn it?”
The Hex had hit him squarely in the face before he could even begin to react. His trunk falling to the ground with a heavy thud, he scrambled to direct his wand at his nose, the bat bogeys spraying from his nose obscuring the sight of Ginny’s figure disappearing around a distant bend in the path.
Neville, watching for his friends’ arrival, stood waiting for Harry and Ginny at the castle’s front steps. He greeted Ginny warmly and she set her trunk down in order to embrace him. When they’d separated she remarked, “Been a while.”
“Ages,” he agreed. “We haven’t seen each other since“” He broke off abruptly.
As the last time they had seen each other was at the funeral for Tonks and Lupin, Ginny didn’t comment, merely nodding her head curtly in agreement. Neville suddenly rubbed his hands together with mock eagerness, desperately trying to change the subject. “Another year at Hogwarts, then.” He gave her a wink. “I imagine you’ll have a better seventh year than I did.”
Ginny grinned at that but her face fell immediately when Neville asked her where Harry was. She spoke nonchalantly. “Oh, he had to clean up a bit.”
As if on cue, Harry headed into view just then, still dealing with the aftermath of Ginny’s spell.
Neville was dumbfounded. “You hexed him?”
She shrugged again. “He had it coming.” She turned toward the stairs.
Harry was dying to retort as he drew up to the two of them, but he nevertheless gripped Neville’s proffered hand, soon distracted by his friend’s question.
“How’d it go with the Sword, Harry? No problems?”
Amid Ginny’s glare of contempt and snort of disgust Harry replied, “Yes, thanks. Couldn’t have done it without it. Thanks for letting me take it.”
It was Neville’s turn to shrug. “I figure if anyone really needs it, we’ll be able to get it again. We did before.”
Harry chuckled his agreement.
Ginny snorted again. “Someone else who knew. Mum and Fleur in on it as well, I suppose?”
“Ginny. Don’t be like that.”
“I’ll be how I damn well please. You can’t tell me what to do.” Without waiting for a reply, she headed up the stairs.
Harry was getting awfully irritated. “Look, woman ...” he snarled after her.
She stopped short just inside the door. Harry reached for his wand as she rounded on him, outraged. She didn’t hex him, though. Instead, she said, with deceptive calm, “You spend entirely too much time with my brothers, Potter. I have a name. Kindly use it.” She marched through the door.
Harry, equally furious, yelled after her, his face red, “Sure thing. GINEVRA.”
She’d aimed the Hex over her shoulder before Harry could even raise his wand.
“Protego!”
Neville’s Shield Charm sprang up just in time for the spell to bounce off ineffectively.
“Cheers,” Harry muttered to his friend.
“No worries.”
Harry wasn’t too sure about that. Right now, he had plenty to worry about.
A/N: with thanks to Roxy Black for her suggestions on how to improve this chapter.