PhoenixSong.net :: A Harry/Ginny Fanfic and Fanart Archive

Author: MyGinevra

Story: The Hog's Head

Part: 11: Hearts And Lips

Rating: Teens

Setting: Pre-OotP

Status: WIP

Warning: Extreme Language, Sexual Situations

Reviews: 11

Words: 6,168

Updated: April 2, 2008, 10:19pm

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11: Hearts And Lips

Harry stared at the blank spot above the door and took several deep breaths, trying to control his anger and a roil of emotions such as he had not felt since Fenrir Greyback's supposed escape from Azkaban. He had forgotten what it was like to feel the weight of foreboding, dread, uncertainty, and fear. That was all supposed to be done with, finished. Riddle was gone and all of his followers either dead themselves or in prison. Kingsley Shacklebolt was Minister of Magic, trying to create a wizarding world where people felt safe and free. Harry had just spent a month being totally happy for the first time in his life; he did not want it to end and he had never thought it would.

He lowered his wand and tried to think. The Mark must have been put there after they had moved all the bed parts upstairs, since either Stan, Kreacher, or he would have noticed it. The Mark itself, now that he thought about it, was crude; it was drawn on the wall, not etched into the stone or the lintel or burned into the door. It was high enough that it most likely had been put there by magic, by someone using a wand, not by being painted by hand. But then why didn't they conjure it into the air above the inn, as Death Eaters always did during an attack on one of their enemies' homes?

Tony was watching him, and Harry thought he saw both fear and anger on his face. "You didn't hear anything, did you?" Harry asked. "It must have been done while we were putting the bed together or when we were in the kitchen with you."

Tony shook his head. "I couldn't hear anything over the racket that elf was making." He suddenly scowled. "You don't think she was in on it?"

"No, that's impossible. She's my house–elf now. If they do anything to harm their masters they have to punish themselves. But Winky has no reason to help a Death Eater, she..." Harry fell silent. He tapped his wand against his hand and looked up at the wall. "I don't think it was a Death Eater," he said slowly. "It's not the way they show the Dark Mark. They want to make it visible so that it terrifies everyone. This one might not have been noticed by anyone for a week if I hadn't come out back to Disapparate."

"Maybe it was just a kid having his idea of a joke," Tony scowled again. "If that's it, a lot of people are gonna be plenty ticked off." He went to the door and squatted down, examining the ground just in front of it. "I guess these could be from a ladder," he pointed to two scuff marks about eighteen inches apart.

Harry had not considered a ladder, but he didn't think it was particularly relevant. The more he thought about it, the more he was convinced that this Mark was not the work of a real Death Eater, but of someone who wanted to frighten him or maybe just ruin his day, and although he couldn't see why anyone would want to, they had come close to doing it. He put his wand away. "Maybe you're right, maybe it's just some stupid kid. Maybe you should mention it to Rosmerta and a few other people in the village."

"Yeah, I guess. It won't be good for business around here, though, and that'll make some people unhappy. Well," he shrugged and glanced up at the wall where the Mark had been, "too bad. I know lots of other people who aren't going to stand for this crap." He turned to Harry. "Look, Harry, don't you worry about this. If it's not them, I mean Death Eaters, then we'll take care of it; I'll take care of it. Go home and let Molly Weasley make dinner for you, and forget about it."

Harry nodded his appreciation. He felt a little better now that he was pretty certain that it was not Death Eaters, and Tony's reassurances made him also realize that he was not facing this — whatever it was — alone. Some of the leaden weight inside him lifted. As he stepped back, his hand went to the Bouquedelle. He spun on the spot and was back at the gate of the Burrow in a few heartbeats.

He paused with his hand on the latch. Ginny would be tearing out of the house in a moment — she always seemed to know when he was about to return, and went to the kitchen to wait — but this time his mood was different. He knew that there was a cloud on his face, and he didn't want her to see it. He could not tell her about the Dark Mark without ruining her birthday surprise, but if he had learned one thing this summer, it was that neither he nor Ginny could hide feelings from the other. Just as she always knew when he was coming home, she always knew when he had something on his mind, whether it was good or bad.

He tried to put on a happy face — it wasn't really that hard since he knew he was about to have Ginny in his arms for a lengthy snog — and went in the gate. The kitchen door burst open and Ginny came flying across the yard, her arms outstretched, her hair streaming behind her, the blazing look on her face. She launched herself onto him and wrapped her arms and legs around him. Harry was ready, since she had done the same thing every time he returned from his weekly trips, and she had knocked him down only the first two times.

They kissed longer than they usually did, then they broke apart and both said at the same time, "I missed you," and they laughed together. It had become a ritual, and it was always followed by Harry spinning around with Ginny in his arms and then carrying her to the kitchen door. This time, however, Ginny stopped him after he had whirled her around. "Wait!" she said excitedly. "I want to show you something. Let me down."

Harry put her on the ground and saw that she was clutching a large, familiar–looking brown envelope with the Hogwarts seal embossed on it. "It's my Hogwarts letter, and look!" She waved it in front of Harry's face, then did a dance in a little circle. "I'm Quidditch captain!"

"Ginny! That's so brilliant! Let me be the first to congratulate you." He took her back and they had their second extended snog of the afternoon. After several minutes his hand slipped down her back and onto her hip, and he pulled her closer. Then he stopped; he knew that something was wrong. "What's the matter?" he whispered into her ear.

Ginny looked down and rubbed her hands over the front of his shirt. Then she glanced back at the house. "Let's go for a walk," she said. She took his hand and led him back out the gate to their hiding place in the field next to the lane. They sat in the little cleared space and Ginny took a breath. "My parents found out about the birth control. Dad got a notice at work, it was a list of all the magic I've done this summer, including those. Mum showed it to me this afternoon after Dad left." She giggled. "I think she was impressed how many times..." She turned a deep crimson and Harry laughed.

"I'm sorry," he said, when she looked at him with a little frown. "It isn't funny, I know. What did they say? Did they ground you? Your birthday's so soon."

"No, they didn't do anything. Especially after I brought up the fact that they did the same thing when they were still at Hogwarts."

"How do you know that?"

"I overheard a conversation between Tonks and Remus when they were visiting us before they got married. Remus was always pretty straight–laced, you know, and Tonks actually had to persuade him to make love to her. One of the arguments she used was the fact that my parents had a great marriage even though they did it before they were married."

"Huh. So there's hope for us," Harry said, and Ginny smacked him. He grabbed her arm, so she swung her other, laughing. He tried to kiss her but she turned her head.

"Harry, wait, I feel funny about it. My Mum's..."

"Oh." Harry sat back. "But I do have my wand with me."

"Please don't joke about it. I'm sorry, I really am." She stood and he also got up.

Harry put his arms around her waist, then around her back and gave her a hug. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have been so pushy." Ginny sighed, and he kissed her gently.

Dinner that evening was a little on the quiet side. There were only four of them, Arthur, Molly, Ginny, and Harry. The two adults cast frequent glances at Harry when they thought he wouldn't notice, and they constantly asked him and Ginny to pass the potatoes or pour them some pumpkin juice; Ginny was unnaturally untalkative, not looking up from her plate much; and Harry alternated between flashes of embarrassed self–consciousness and inexplicable, barely controllable urges to laugh during the lengthy moments of silence. No one spoke about Ginny's list of illegal magic or, needless to say, her use of birth control charms. Molly jumped up when they were finished and cleared the table, washed the dishes, and put them away before anyone else had moved. She and Arthur retired to the parlor, and Ginny and Harry went for a walk.

"I think they've decided to pretend nothing happened," Ginny speculated as they strolled down to Fred's grave. "As of Tuesday they can officially ignore it. Parents are weird."

Harry chuckled. "Wouldn't know. I guess that's something good about being an orphan."

"Oh, that's not funny," Ginny protested. "And weird isn't necessarily bad. Look at Luna and her dad." They had reached the grave and were standing at the foot, looking at the headstone and the epitaph. Ginny fell silent. They stood there for several minutes, then she turned away.

"I can't forget him," she said as they walked back to the Burrow, "but now when I look at his grave I get the feeling that he's asking me to stop feeling sorry for him, 'cause I'm really just feeling sorry for myself."

"I know what you mean," Harry replied, and Ginny suddenly looked at him.

"Of course you do. That's stupid of me. I've had one brother die. You've had... how many?"

"Don't talk like that. It's different for both of us. You knew him and lived with him for seventeen years. I never lived that long with anyone who died. I guess I knew Dumbledore the best, but I felt closest to Sirius, and I only knew him for a couple of years. And Dobby..." He said no more, and looked down as they walked.

Ginny took his hand and leaned her head on his shoulder. "I just thought of something else that's weird. We'll never forget what Fred looks like because George is still here."

"You're right, I hadn't thought of that."

They reached the Burrow and took two folding chairs that were leaning against the side of the house — one of them Arthur's Muggle lawn chair — and set them up next to the garden. Dusk was falling and they could hear the chirping of night insects and could see bats and swallows zooming across the darkening sky. A light breeze came up.

Harry sighed, and Ginny glanced at him, but he didn't notice. He was lost in thought about the events of the day: the Dark Mark and the news that Ginny's parents knew that they were having sex. The latter created one advantage for him: it made it easier to hide his worries about the former. He didn't like keeping it from her, but he had been working so hard to make it a perfect birthday present, and he wanted it so badly to be perfect, that he didn't feel guilty at all about not telling her. He could tell Ron and Hermione about it on Saturday when they returned from their holiday in France. And maybe by then Tony would know who had done it. He could ask Ron to send an owl up to Hogsmeade without making Ginny suspect anything.

The more he thought about it, the more the Dark Mark puzzled him. There just weren't enough Death Eaters out of jail to pose a danger, and all the most powerful ones were accounted for, dead or in Azkaban. Everyone in Hogsmeade knew that what he was doing with the inn was for Ginny; he had not kept it a secret, but now he wished he had. Was someone trying to get to him through Ginny? That's what he had feared after Dumbledore was killed. He thought about Stan and Harriet, and glanced at Ginny.

She had been watching him, and when Harry looked her way she did not avert her eyes. "What's wrong?" she said. "Something's bothering you."

"Oh, nothing," Harry tried to sound nonchalant, but he knew immediately that it wouldn't work. Ginny sometimes scared him with her witch's intuition — or whatever it was — that allowed her to read his emotions so accurately. She opened her mouth, but Harry spoke first, thinking that a partial admission of the truth might let him keep the main secret. "Okay, you're right, as usual," he smiled, but she did not return it. "Something happened today, but if I tell you it'll ruin your surprise. You'll find out next Wednesday. There's no big problem."

"It is something serious," Ginny frowned. "It's bothering you."

"It's bothering me, but I really want this to be a surprise. I don't want to ruin it. Look, Gin, you'll really love it, I'm sure you will. Please, just wait another week. Please?"

A small smile replaced her frown, and she leaned over and took his hand. "You're sweet. Okay, the surprise is sounding better all the time. I'll wait." She squeezed his hand and sat back, but Harry didn't let her go. He was pleased with himself for being able to convince her; he pulled her over into his lap for an extended goodnight kiss.

Ginny did not raise the subject again, and for the next two days things at the Burrow remained quiet. During the day, when Arthur was at work, Molly was pleasant with Harry, but she was also preoccupied with preparations for Ginny's two parties, the one for the family on her birthday, and the big bash for dozens of friends on the following Saturday. During the evening Arthur and Harry avoided each other after dinner, but that had been the pattern all summer: Arthur relaxed with Molly in the parlor while Harry and Ginny took walks around the countryside, usually coming home just before her parents went to bed.

* * * *

On Saturday morning the rest of the family began to arrive. Bill and Fleur came early, Fleur unleashing a torrent of intermixed French and English as she described their vacation on the Riviera with Ron and Hermione. Later in the morning Percy Apparated and immediately sat down with his mother to get up to speed on the arrangements for the big party. George, Ron, and Hermione all came together from Diagon Alley; Ron and Hermione had gone to their flat first upon their return from abroad. Hermione looked positively exotic in a tan that darkened her skin several shades, while Ron's sunburn triggered a lecture from Molly on the dangers of too much sun; she wondered out loud how she could have raised a wizard who didn't know enough to use UnSun, or one of the other well–known sunburn remedies that were available at any wizarding apothecary. But then she admitted, with a look at Fleur, that she didn't actually know if there were any such establishments in the less civilized parts of the world. She went to a cabinet and pulled out her well–worn copies of Common Magical Ailments and Afflictions and Pocks's Home Health and Herbal Helper, and found a charm that cleared up the sunburn. Then she extracted a promise from Ron — after warning him not to roll his eyes — that he would be more careful next time.

Charlie was due in from Romania on Sunday, and nobody wanted Aunt Muriel to come before Tuesday.

Harry waited for an opportunity to talk to Ron and Hermione about the Dark Mark, but he never got a chance. There was always someone nearby, or else Ginny was with them when Ron or Hermione happened to leave whatever room they all happened to be in, and Harry thought it would be too obvious to Ginny if he just followed after them. He had to wait until late at night, when they all finally went to bed, for he and Ron to be alone in the attic bedroom.

Ron had started grumbling when he first saw the pristine condition of his room, and he was still upset. Most of it hadn't been touched since Kreacher had cleaned the house after Fred's funeral, and Harry had messed up only his side of the room, around his cot.

"Remind me never to have a house–elf," Ron muttered as he tossed his shirt onto the bookcase. "They do more damage than they're worth. Where did all my Quidditch World's go?"

Harry was lying on his cot, leaning back against the pillows, watching Ron scatter the magazines that Kreacher had so carefully organized on top of the dresser. "I doubt that Hermione would want one, either," he grinned.

"You're right." Ron lay down on his bed with the latest issue; the cover photo showed the Harpies' Seeker, Velda Vermeer, whizzing around a practice pitch chasing a Golden Snitch.

"Something happened up in Hogsmeade," Harry said.

"Uh, huh," Ron kept flipping pages while Harry described his day in the village, but as soon as Harry mentioned the Dark Mark he put it down and stared at him. When Harry finished, Ron looked worried. "The obvious candidate is that Tangerine witch, she could have —"

"Turquoise, her name is Turquoise."

"Whatever. She sounds like a piece of work. She probably saw Winky in the kitchen and figured you had hired her, and she got pissed off and made a crude attempt to scare you."

"That makes some sense," Harry agreed, but then he thought about the "interview" with her. "She was a total air–head, though. I wonder if she's even heard of the Dark Mark."

"Who else could it be? Shunpike was with you the whole time, it couldn't be him."

"It was not Stan," Harry declared firmly. "He was Imperiused to begin with and the Ministry released him. He didn't do it."

"So maybe Tony was right, it was just a stupid prank by a juvenile delinquent who got pissed on firewhisky."

"That reminds me. Can I use Pig to send Tony an owl tomorrow? I want to know if he's found out anything before I go up there with Ginny."

The plan was for Harry to Apparate with Ginny early Wednesday morning, and then for Ron and Hermione to join them later in the day. And with Stan and Winky now there, Harry figured it would be a festive occasion. The thought that someone would ruin it for him — for Ginny — was still angering him. He was becoming more and more impatient to bring her there, and less and less tolerant of anyone who got in his way.

"If it is Death Eaters," Harry said, scowling at the window and the night outside, "I'm gonna have a talk with Kingsley Shacklebolt. I thought they were all taken care of."

"Uh, uh," Ron shook his head. "What I heard at the Ministry before we left was that maybe a dozen are still out there somewhere. No one knows if they left the country or went underground. They could be anywhere."

"Well, I don't want them in Hogsmeade."

Ron looked over at him. "It'll be fine, mate. We'll all be there. They'd be idiots to try anything. Do you want me to tell Hermione?"

Harry grunted, blew out his candle, and turned over. Ron went back to his Quidditch magazine, but Harry, in his restlessness, couldn't fall asleep. He finally gave up and sat up again. "So what was France like?" he asked. "Do all the women look like Fleur?"

Ron grinned, put down the magazine, and launched into an enthusiastic description of the scenery on the wizarding beaches of southern France. Harry listened for a while, but finally sleep overtook him, and he dreamed of climbing ladders over doorways that led to sandy beaches covered with rows of four–posters lined up into the distance.

In the morning when he awoke, Harry went to Ron's desk and wrote out a quick message for Tony Trostle. He gave it to Pigwidgeon and the owl flapped off into the brightening morning sky. Now that he had spoken to Ron about the Dark Mark and knew that he would be receiving some news about it directly from Tony, he felt more relaxed and spent the day with Ginny, Ron, and Hermione. Ginny, for her part, saw that Harry's mind was eased, and she also relaxed. As the day of her coming of age approached, her anticipation was starting to grow. On top of that, she suddenly realized that here she was, by Harry's side, as he conversed with his best friends of seven years, and she was being included. Even back at the end of her fifth year, when she and Harry had first started dating, she knew that he kept her in the dark about many things having to do with Dumbledore and Voldemort. Now he told her everything — except for the little problem he would reveal in three days, and she understood that. Ron still occasionally talked to her like his little sister, which Ginny found irritating, especially since Hermione was, as always, treating her as an equal. But she enjoyed being included in parts of Harry's life that she had previously been excluded from.

They made plans to get together in London; they speculated about changes at the Ministry, and about the Auror training program that Ron was signed up for; they talked about Hermione's research at the Arithmancy Institute — after she had finished an enthusiastic description of the art museums and historical sites of southern France; and Harry, Ron and Ginny in turn bored Hermione with a long discussion about Ginny's Quidditch captaincy and the Gryffindor team's prospects for the Cup this year. No one mentioned Harry's future plans.

On Sunday Charlie arrived from Romania, sporting a new scar on his cheek. "Horntail," he explained, refusing to let Molly touch it or cut his hair again. Late in the afternoon Pigwidgeon returned with a parchment tied to his leg. The family were sitting outside under the peach tree, and the owl landed in it. " Ron," Percy pointed, "there's your owl with a message." Ron held up his hand and Pig flew down. Ron took the parchment, then moved off a few yards and read it. Harry watched him, and Ginny watched Harry. In a few minutes Ron was back, but didn't look at Harry or say anything.

Harry didn't know what to do. If he asked about the owl, Ginny would instantly know that it was about what had been worrying him. He fidgeted in his chair, until finally Ginny stood up. Harry looked at her in alarm, thinking that she was going to ask Ron about the owl, but she turned to her mother. "Mum, can you show me that Quidditch robe pattern you were telling me about? I'd like to get started on it after the party."

"Of course, dear," Molly jumped up, and the two of them went into the house.

Harry was positive that Ginny had done it deliberately, so that he could read the owl without worrying about her. He made a mental note to worship her even more devoutly in the future, then turned to Ron, who handed him the parchment. He, Ron, and Hermione walked off as Harry started reading. It was indeed from Tony Trostle. It said,

Harry,

Ros and I talked to everyone who was in the village Wednesday afternoon, but no one saw anything.
Ros told me about your meeting with Turquoise Southeby, and I told her about the elf, and we both thought
we'd better talk to Turquoise. She was at the Post Office, and she told us that she had been in there
all afternoon after she left you at the Three Broomsticks. She's been working there a few hours
a week since she came back from down south. We saw Rathbone Rastlebuck, the postwizard, and he confirmed it.

We don't have any other ideas. Some people are asking questions about Stan Shunpike, but he was
with you the whole time, as I understand it, so he's out as a suspect.

I still think it was kids. Carlos and a couple of the crew volunteered to keep an eye on the inn, so
I don' think anything else will happen.

So don't worry, Harry. Have a good time at Miss Weasley's party, and I'll see you on Wednesday. Your
little sofa was delivered on Friday, and I put it in front of the fireplace like you wanted.

Regards, Tony

Hermione read over Harry's shoulder and frowned. "It's worrisome, but I agree with Ron that it wasn't a Death Eater. Why would they want to draw attention to themselves? It would just make the Ministry look for them even harder."

"But if no one in Hogsmeade did it, then who did?" Ron asked.

"Obviously, whoever did it left."

"But," said Harry, "if it was someone who didn't live there, they would have been noticed. When I was in the Three Broomsticks in the morning it was almost empty. No one was around. A stranger would have been obvious."

Hermione shook her head. "They could have been hiding, or using magic to disguise themselves."

"Polyjuice Potion?" Harry said skeptically. "That seems like a lot of trouble to go to."

"Well..." Hermione thought for a moment. "It does sound too sophisticated, especially when you consider how crude the Mark was."

"I'll go back to what Tony says," Ron declared. "It was some drunken git who lives in the village and thought he was being funny. And there wasn't that much time between Harry's going inside with the bed and then going back outside to Disapparate. So it wasn't like whoever did it had to account for hours of his time."

"Good thinking, Ron!" said Hermione — he grinned and tapped his temple — "and Tony's right about not letting it bother you, Harry. Lot's of people will be around, just relax and have a good time."

It sounded like good advice, Harry thought as they walked back to the peach tree. It felt nice that so many others wanted him and Ginny to feel safe there, but part of the problem was that he didn't want lots of people around. He wanted to be alone with Ginny. In spite of all the intimacy that they had shared this summer, none of it had happened in a place they could call their own or just relax in for as long as they wanted. There had been some late night snogs in the parlor, but Ginny was very clear that, inside the house, things could only go so far and no farther. And Harry agreed; he knew that both of them would be exceedingly uncomfortable it if they ever ended up sitting and conversing with Ginny's parents in the same room in which they had made love.

Outdoors was different, and it was in Ginny's hiding places that they had become so close and the sometimes eery feeling of being inside each other's mind had started to happen. Being with Ginny that way, under the sky, or enclosed in a bower of trees, or underneath an archway of a hedgerow, was indescribably glorious. But it was obviously not an option when the weather got cooler or when it rained. Beyond that, the moments always ended too soon. Ginny didn't want to worry her parents about where they were or if something had happened to them, so there was always the knowledge that they had to get back to the Burrow for dinner or for bedtime.

No, Harry wanted a place of their own, a safe and homey place for his Ginny, where they were free to do whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted, to live their lives together. And no matter how reassuring his friends were, no matter how logical their arguments were, he could not shake the feeling that the Dark Mark on the wall was an omen of something that would keep him from having the happiness he craved.

The back door of the Burrow opened. Ginny came out carrying a tray of cinnamon buns and tea, and as she walked toward the family, she smiled at Harry the whole time she was approaching.

* * * *

Monday was hot and cloudless, and preparations for the two parties continued. The Burrow bustled with activity: food being prepared, decorations put up, the floors scrubbed and the furniture dusted. Ginny's brothers would not let her help with anything. George spent several hours with her by Fred's grave, talking quietly. Harry at first felt somewhat ignored, but as he was drawn into the party activities by the rest of the family, even by Molly and Arthur, his feeling quickly passed. Ginny's parents seemed relaxed with him again, as though now that Ginny's adulthood was only hours away, the adult part of her relationship with Harry had become acceptable.

He helped Charlie, Ron, Fleur, and Hermione decorate the entire house in red and gold magical decorations: streamers, bunting, lanterns, balloons, and paper cutouts. The day passed quickly and when Ginny kissed him goodnight near the gate late in the evening, she couldn't contain her excitement.

"I can't believe this is finally happening," she laughed. "It's just so wonderful to have everyone here, and Bill has Fleur, and Ron has Hermione, and I have you..."

They said goodnight again on the landing in front of Ginny's room, then Harry went up to the attic where Ron was already in bed. He changed into his pajamas and fell asleep immediately.

The night was very quiet. Ron and Harry slept soundly, and they did not awaken or even stir when, shortly after midnight, the door slowly opened and an arm in a frilly nightgown poked inside. The wand in the hand waved, but they did not hear the whispered "Accio wands," that caused their wands to rise from their night stands and float to the door, where the charmer's other hand grabbed them in mid–air. And after the door closed, they didn't hear the sucking noise that followed another whispered charm, "Colloportus longeva." After that, the night became even quieter and Harry and Ron slept peacefully.

August the eleventh dawned clear again. Birds in the forest were the first to awaken, but soon after, as the sun was climbing above the horizon, Ginny and George appeared around the side of the house and gazed up at the attic window. Ginny looked at George who grinned and nodded.

Inside their room, Harry and Ron were still sound asleep, but they both jumped up when the window banged open. Ron was the first to reach it. Looking down, he saw his sister and brother standing on the ground thirty feet below, Ginny with her wand pointing directly at him. "Wake up, sleepies!" she cried. "It's my birthday!"

Ron sprang back and collided with Harry who had come to the window behind him; they both crashed to the floor in a heap. "She's gonna do something!" Ron shouted. "Let's get out of here!" He untangled himself from Harry and ran to the door and yanked on the handle, but the door didn't budge. "We're locked in! Where's my wand?" He scrambled to his night stand and looked around frantically. "She took them! We're trapped!"

Harry watched Ron ricocheting around the room, then turned back to the window, but at that moment there was a loud whoosh, and he ducked as dozens, then hundreds of small objects streamed into the room through the open window. Some were red and some were green. Harry retreated, knocking into Ron again, and they both fell onto his bed. The flying objects were filling the room, and they began circling the two of them. But as they whirled around, they separated themselves; the red ones surrounded Harry while the green ones whirled around Ron. They formed little tornados, spinning and fluttering around both of them.

Harry reached up and snatched one of the red objects. It was soft and smooth; he looked closer, and saw that it was a tiny heart–shaped silk pillow. He stood and began walking slowly to the window; the red tornado stayed with him. As he passed Ron, he saw that Ron's little hurricane was made up of hundreds of paper lips, all puckering furiously. He reached the window, still surrounded by red hearts, and leaned out. "I surrender!" he called. "How do I get out of here?"

Ginny raised her wand. "Wingardium Leviosa!" she called, and Harry rose out of the window and into the air, then floated gently to the ground and landed gracefully next to Ginny. She waved her wand and the flying hearts disappeared, except for the one Harry was holding in his hand.

He grinned at her. "Enjoying your seventeenth birthday, are you?"

"Immensely," she grinned back.

There was a shout from the attic window. "Oi! Witch! Get me out of here, now!"

"Oh, dear," tisked Ginny, "Ron's still up there. Can't you get down?" she shouted. A string of swear words issued from the cloud of lips.

"I don't think that's the correct response, Ron," George called up. "Remember, you're dealing with an adult now."

"What's the magic word?" Ginny shouted.

"Please! Dammit!" Ron waved his arms furiously and futilely at the lips. It only made them swirl faster, and now, every few seconds, one would zoom in and attach itself to Ron's mouth. As soon as he ripped it away, another one took its place.

"Okay, here goes!" Ginny called. She pointed her wand again and, with another Wingardium Leviosa, Ron floated out the window and descended toward them. By the time he touched down his face was covered with green lips, all making smacking noises as he ripped them off.

"What the bloody hell are you doing?" Ron demanded; his face was bright scarlet underneath the green. "Get rid of them! Okay, please get rid of them!"

"Sure," she answered cheerfully, "'cause now you know how much snagging I did after every time you yelled at me for doing it."

Ron laughed despite himself, but then began flailing at his face again as a dozen paper lips took advantage of his open mouth and zeroed in on it. "I'm sorry!" he spluttered. "I'll never do it again, I promith." One of the enchanted lips attached itself to his tongue, and he spit it out.

By now the entire family, including Arthur and Molly, were outside, gathered in an highly entertained circle around George, Ginny, and her victims, both of whom were still in their pajamas. Ginny's wand flicked and the lips vanished, except for one that was kissing the top of Ron's head; he swatted and caught it, and then it, too disappeared. Ginny tossed Ron his wand and handed Harry his, as everyone applauded. She curtseyed and turned to Harry. "Do you still have my heart?"

Harry held it up. "Can I keep it?"

"Forever," she giggled.

"Come on, Harry," George put his hand on Harry's shoulder. "You should be the first one to say happy birthday."

Harry looked around; everyone was watching. Then he took Ginny's shoulders and she fixed him with her blazing look. He told himself to ignore two parents, five brothers, one sister–in–law, and one girlfriend, and said loudly, "Happy birthday, Ginny," and he kissed her.

Ginny's eyes went briefly to her father, who was smiling with the rest. When Harry finally let her go — to another round of applause — she called, "Well, Dad, I guess there are a few people at the Ministry with nothing to do now." He and Molly laughed, as the others looked puzzled. "I'll tell you all later," Ginny said to them, "much later."

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