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

Author: MyGinevra

Story: The Hog's Head

Part: 12: Birthday Presents

Rating: Teens

Setting: Post-DH

Status: WIP

Warning: Extreme Language, Sexual Situations

Reviews: 9

Words: 8,045

Updated: April 8, 2008, 7:58pm

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12: Birthday Presents

After breakfast Percy and Charlie fetched Aunt Muriel, and she took up where she had left off at Fred’s funeral. She cornered Harry and Ginny who were sitting together in the parlor looking at an album of family birthday photos — going back to Bill’s first. They looked up when Muriel came in, followed by Charlie who was trying unsuccessfully to steer her past them and out into the garden.

“Well, Ginevra,” she called loudly, “that’s quite a dress. Do you really think that Mr. Potter needs the additional stimulation?”

Ginny was wearing a new dress from Madame Malkin’s that she had picked out from a catalog. It was a very short, light–weight summer dress, creamy white with red roses embroidered around the hem; it was gathered with elastic under the bust, had a plunging neckline, and spaghetti straps. Her mother had managed not to register an opinion aside from raised eyebrows. Her father had stared at it with objections on the tip of his tongue, but Molly had quickly started talking about the weather.

Harry removed his arm from around Ginny’s shoulders and shifted on the sofa so that their thighs were not plastered together. Ginny moved her own leg, however, to keep it firmly against his. “How are you, Aunt Muriel?” she smiled. “I’m so glad you could come to my party.”

“So am I. You only come of age once, after all. My own was ninety years ago, if you can believe it, and I certainly wasn’t wearing a dress like that.” She appraised Ginny and her eyes traveled the short distance between hemline and neckline. “More’s the pity,” she finally muttered. “Charles,” she turned with an annoyed look as he tugged on her elbow, “is there something I can do for you? Perhaps a haircut?”

Charlie mouthed an apology to Ginny and finally managed to get Muriel moving toward the door. “We’re all set up outside, and the weather’s perfectly beautiful,” he said in an attempt to get her out of the room.

“Yes, I’m aware of that,” she said testily. “I’m not senile, you know.”

Ginny reached over and put Harry’s arm back around her shoulder as soon as the door closed. “That’s the first time since I was four that she liked what I was wearing.”

“It is stimulating,” Harry noted and put his hand on her knee. He started moving it up her leg and Ginny slapped it.

“Why do men always grope?” she mused.

“What do you mean, ‘men’? Who else groped you?”

“So you admit that men grope?”

‘I admit that I do, especially when I’m stimulated.”

“You’re always stimulated.” Harry’s hand stayed on her knee and they went back to the photo album.

The party festivities began in earnest after lunch. When the cake and ice cream had been eaten and the dishes cleared, everyone moved their chairs into a circle; Harry sat down next to Ginny. George stood in the center and all fell silent.

“It’s time for the presents, everyone,” he announced. “But first I want to say something. This is the seventeenth birthday of my sister, Ginny. She was our baby for years, which she hated. Well, no more — calling her ‘baby’ I mean. She’s now a woman, and a brilliant, beautiful woman. There is no one else I would have wanted as a sister, and she’s the best thing that ever happened to this family. When someone finally takes her —“ he gave Harry a thumbs up, and there were a few chuckles and Fleur said something in French while Harry tried to sink into the earth “— he’ll have to take all of us, because Ginny comes with the Weasleys and she always will.”

There were cheers, and Ginny jumped up and hugged and kissed him. Harry tried to hide his embarrassment by taking a swig of butterbeer, but unfortunately, Charlie clapped him on the back at that moment and the resulting mess on the front of his shirt only made it worse.

“Okay!” George called while Molly Scourgified Harry, “enough of my eloquence. Let’s do presents.” He waved his wand and with a loud bang a small table appeared in front of him, covered with a golden cloth. “The first one is from Harry Potter, and given his immense wealth, especially compared to the rest of us, it had better be good.”

“Wait,” said Ginny, “he’s giving me his present tomorrow.”

“Correct and incorrect,” George answered. “Tomorrow morning you and he will Side–Along Apparate to a mystery location that only he and thousands of others know about. You, Ginny, in the entire wizarding world, are the only one who doesn’t know where it is. But no matter. Harry has a present for you today, so unless you want him to give it to me instead —“

“Forget it!” said Harry. “It’s for Ginny.”

“Have it your way, then,” and George waved his wand again. With another bang! a small box wrapped in red paper and bound with silver ribbon appeared on the gold cloth. Harry took it to Ginny and handed it to her.

“I wanted to give you something today,” he said. “Happy birthday.”

She slowly untied the ribbon and pulled the paper off, glancing at him, happily relishing the anticipation. Inside the wrapping was a dark red velvet box with a hinged cover. She opened it and her mouth dropped; she sucked in her breath with a drawn out, “Oh!”

She held up a heart–shaped gold locket on a linked chain. Three small rubies were embedded in the locket, one in each lobe of the heart and one at the bottom. Harry pointed to them. “These two are you and me, and this one is us.”

“Harry, it’s beautiful. Thank you so much.”

“Open it.”

She opened the locket with her thumbnail, and grinned at him. “Your picture.” She passed the locket around, and everyone oohed and aahed.

“C’est magnifique!” Fleur exclaimed. “‘Arry, it is a lovely gift.” Ginny put it around her neck, then grabbed Harry and snogged him; she wouldn’t let him go until all of her brothers started clearing their throats in unison.

“Okay,” George continued, "Ginny got a present and Harry got a present. Next, we have a gift from my baby brother and his lovely girlfriend.” Ron scowled. “Just joking, just joking,” George said. “Ron’s already had his comeuppance for the day. Any hickies left from this morning?”

“Not from this morning,” Ron said, and Hermione turned pink.

George waved his wand again; another present appeared on the table. It was a small, flat box wrapped in dark green paper with a golden talon embossed on it. Ginny ripped the paper off and opened the box. "Yes!” she exulted, and punched the air with her fist. She showed the gift to Harry: a ten–year season pass for two to all Holyhead Harpies home matches. She gave Ron and Hermione each a wet kiss on their cheeks, and sat back down and grinned at Harry.

“Next, and probably most verbosely, we have —“ George waved his wand and produced another loud bang and gift “— another season pass from Percy. No, it only looks like one.” Percy’s gift was in a box like the one from Ron and Hermione, but the paper was black and the symbol embossed on it was that of the Ministry of Magic. When Ginny opened it she bounced out of her seat and ran over and hugged and kissed Percy.

“This is fantastic!” she exclaimed. “Look,” she showed it to Harry, “free Apparition lessons from Wilkie Twycross himself, plus Percy will fill out all twenty–six of the forms I need for the license! Thanks!” She grinned at Percy who smiled appreciatively, then went and gave him a kiss. Aunt Muriel, sitting next to him, patted his knee.

“Amazing,” George shook his head. “Percy had nothing to say. We’re all grateful, my silent brother.”

The next present, appearing with the usual bang! was from Bill and Fleur, and it was wrapped in magical silver paper with points of gold on it that glowed in the sunlight. Ginny opened the box; she stared at its contents, then slowly held up a silver–colored necklace. A single thin strand of the silvery material held the clasp, but the front of it was about an inch wide, made up of silver–white filigrees of the same metal, braided and woven together. A single diamond was embedded in the center of the woven strands.

“It is a Veela necklace,” Fleur said into the silence; the beauty of the necklace seemed to hold everyone in a spell. “It is made from a very ancient metal zat can no longer be found in ze eart’. All ze mines are lost. I do not know ‘ow old zis one is, Ginny, but maybe t’ousands of years. It is very special jewelry for a very special person.”

“It’s so light,” Ginny said softly. “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful. See how light it is.” She handed it to Harry. It was feather–light, yet the strands seemed to be hard and very strong.

“Let’s see what it looks like,” he said. He undid the clasp and put it around Ginny’s neck; she lifted her hair and he hooked it together. The silver strands and the diamond lay on her bosom, and when she looked up at Harry, he thought he saw sparkles of light deep in her eyes. He stared into them until Fleur laughed. “Zat is Veela magic, ‘Arry. You will never be able to resist it!”

“Don’t want to,” he said. Ginny went to Bill and Fleur and kissed them both. Fleur whispered something in Ginny’s ear, and she blushed. When she got back to her seat everyone gazed at her until self–consciousness overcame her. “Go on, George,” she said. “Who’s next?”

George jumped as though coming out of a trance. “Right. Um, let’s see. Okay. Charlie!” He flourished his wand and a larger box appeared with a bang. It was wrapped in scarlet paper bedecked with fire–breathing dragons. Ginny ripped open the box and took out a black dragon–hide jacket. She put it on and pranced around the circle, letting everyone admire it and caress the supple leather. She stopped in front of Charlie and gave him a hug and a kiss.

Aunt Muriel stood, and held up her hand to stop George. “I don’t need your blabber or your circus tricks,” she declared. “You already know what my gift to my niece is.” She walked over to Ginny and handed her an unwrapped, tattered velvet box; she took the top off and lifted out her tiara and placed in on Ginny’s brow. “Your garrulous brother said one truthful thing, Ginevra. You are more than special to your family. I give you this tiara, which has come down from my ancestors, and you shall pass it on to one of your daughters or granddaughters. Wear it with pride, and remember that you imbue it with beauty, not the other way around.”

“Thank you, Aunt Muriel,” Ginny whispered; only Muriel and Harry could hear her. “I promise you I will do that.”

Aunt Muriel bowed her head to Ginny and walked back to her seat, her carriage straight and stiff. She sat down and glared at Percy when he patted her knee.

“Okay,” George continued. “The older generation has been heard from —“

“Watch it, Mr. Weasley!” Muriel snapped. “My wand still works just as well as anyone’s.”

“— the mature generation, as I was saying. Next, and almost last, is Ginny’s gift from Mum and Dad.” A bang! and a long, thin package appeared. Ginny grinned at Harry, then tore the paper off, opened the box, and everyone cheered as she removed a brand new Firebolt 21, the latest, fastest, and smoothest broomstick on the market. Ginny gave a shout and ran to her father and threw her arms around him, then did the same to her mother. She went running around the garden, holding the broom over her head and whooping, as everyone else laughed and shouted. She returned breathlessly to her seat and hugged Harry.

He examined her broom; it was clearly a more advanced model than his own lost Firebolt. “Wow, this is brilliant!” he said admiringly. “You’ll fly circles around everyone at school.”

Arthur spoke. “We heard from Minerva that you would be named captain, and we couldn’t let you go back with of one those old sticks from the broom shed. How long have you used them?”

“I don’t know, Dad,” Ginny answered. “When was I born?”

Everyone laughed. “They aren’t quite that old,” Arthur said, “but almost.”

“And now,” George flourished his wand, “we come to the final and best gift, if I do say so myself — mine.” This time the package appeared without sound effects; it was large, about two feet high and cylindrical. It was standing on end, and noises could be heard coming from it. Ginny unwrapped it; a large, russet–colored barn owl blinked at her and hooted loudly from inside its cage. Ginny jumped into George’s arms and he spun her around. “Her name is Bailey, and now you have no excuse not to write,” he said in a high voice that was a perfect imitation of their mother’s.

“Bailey,” Ginny crooned, and opened the cage. The owl hopped out onto the table. Ginny leaned closer and received a gentle peck on her cheek. Bailey turned her head completely around and peered at everyone, then ruffled her feathers and flapped up on top of the cage. She sat there watching Ginny.

George raised his hand again. “Folks, that concludes the acquisitive portion of our party. But before you all go take your naps, Ginny has one more thing to say. Miss Weasley.” He bowed and Ginny walked to the center of the circle and looked around, smiling.

“This was the greatest party I’ve had in all my long, seventeen years,” she said. “You are the best family in the world. Everything you gave me is perfect, I love it all. I want to do one more thing, though. I want us all to go tell Fred how beautiful things are and how much he would have loved it.”

She and George led the way to the oak tree; Ginny was wearing her tiara and the necklace and locket around her neck. At the grave she conjured a bouquet of roses and placed it against the headstone. Molly and Fleur started to weep, and they all held hands and stood in silence for long moments.

Late in the evening, after dinner and when most of the house had gone to bed, Harry and Ginny stood in the dark by the front gate. “What a day,” Ginny sighed. “I wonder how mum and dad could afford that broom. It must have cost a month of his salary.”

“You deserve it,” said Harry, as he stroked her hair. “But there’s something else I want to show you. I didn’t want anyone but you to see it.” He picked up the locket and, leaving the chain around her neck, put it on his hand. “Open it again.”

She did so. She could barely make out the picture of Harry grinning at her, but from its eyes came two pinpoints of green light like little emeralds gleaming in the darkness. Ginny looked up and her hands began to shake. “What...?”

“Ever since you told me that you saw my eyes when I was lying on the ground in front of Riddle, I knew I wanted to get this made and give it to you.”

Ginny’s whole body trembled. In that night that seemed so long ago on the lawn outside the castle, a night of so much death, she had stood over Elizabeth Derby’s body and there had been that vision of two green points of light. Then that other moment had come, a fulcrum of her life: the instant when she saw Harry’s eyes open as he lay on the ground, and the fear that had been impossible to bear had vanished in a blink of green. The world had been stopped, and then it had started again. There had been nothing but the certainty of death, and then his eyes had brought the certainty of life.

Ginny bent over and looked at the green sparks in the locket again. She closed it, and without looking at Harry, took his hand and led him down the lane.

Her sudden need was so great, and her desire so overwhelming, that she had to fight herself to keep from dragging him down in the middle of the road. She found the hidden gap in the hedge, and in the cleared space in the middle of the field, shaking almost violently, she gave him every atom of her body and her soul, and he took it. It was beyond passion, it possessed them both and they became something different, something that was not two separate people, but was more than one.

Afterward they lay in each other's arms, gasping, wondering what had happened. They didn’t speak, since words were useless for feelings that they hadn’t known even existed. They dressed in silence and went back to the house that was now dark and still, and on the landing outside Ginny’s room they parted wordlessly, both of them still unable to verbalize anything about the past hour.

* * * *

It was still dark when Ginny awoke the next morning. She had slept very soundly, but as she started to drift up out of sleep she felt as if something was pulling her toward wakefulness, something that she wanted badly. As soon as she opened her eyes she sat up, and she knew why she was so instantly, completely awake. Today was the day that she would go with Harry, and she was free, an adult witch, a woman. She put her hand to her chest and felt the locket.

The memory of last night came back like a clap of thunder, and she fell back on her pillow and stared at the darkness. The thing that had happened to them was like a mountain compared to the anthill of turning seventeen. She didn’t understand it and she didn’t know who she could ask about it. Maybe Hermione, maybe Fleur; she wished that Tonks was still alive. The experience was stuck in her, implanted, cemented. She knew that it would never leave her. She took the locket from inside her nightgown; she felt the inlaid rubies and opened it. The green lights shone in the dark. She closed it and tucked it back inside; she was going to wear it under her clothes, next to her skin. She wanted to be constantly reminded of it, of the picture inside and the two green sparks of light and the clearing in the middle of the field.

There was a rustling noise near the window. Ginny lit a candle and saw two yellow eyes blinking at her. She jumped out of bed and went to Bailey’s cage. She opened it and the owl hopped out onto Ginny’s outstretched forearm and gave her elbow a tickling peck. Ginny brought her arm up to her face and Bailey nibbled her lower lip. “You’re beautiful, Bailey. Do you want to hunt now? I’ll be gone all day, so you can stay out as long as you want.” She laughed out loud. “We both can.” She carried Bailey to the open window and watched her for the few seconds she could see the winged form as it flew into the darkness.

There was a soft knock on the door. “Ginny?” came Harry’s loud whisper. “Are you up?”

Ginny ran to the door and threw it open. Harry looked her up and down; he was already dressed. “I’m ready...” He suddenly seemed to have lost his train of thought.

“Yes, but for what?” Ginny laughed at his expression. “Never mind, I’ll be down in a minute.” She quickly closed the door before he could say anything, and leaned her back against it, listening. She heard a deep, loud sigh, then, after a few moments, footsteps descending the stairs.

She dressed as fast as she could, with her mind racing just as fast. This was the day, the day she had been waiting for since she had come home from Hogwarts. She had been anticipating it for so long, she was almost afraid it would be gone before she experienced it. She knew that Harry’s surprise had something to do with his living in Hogsmeade, but she had no clue about anything else. It couldn’t be something as mundane as a flat over one of the shops on the High Street; that would be too boring. It had to be something special.

She finished dressing and ran downstairs. Harry was at the table and her mum at the stove. Ginny smelled her favorite breakfast: hot cakes smothered in strawberries topped with whipped cream, with sausages, melon slices, and fresh coffee.

“Morning, Mum. Hi, sweetie,” she kissed Harry’s cheek and sat next to him. Molly put their breakfasts in front of them and sat down across the table.

“Now you’ll be careful, won’t you?” she looked from one to the other. “I know you’ve done lots of Apparating, Harry, so I know you will be careful. Just remember, destination, determination, delibera—“

“We know, Mum,” Ginny mumbled through a mouthful of hot cakes. “Harry Apparated all over the countryside last year. We’ll be fine.”

“Well, yes dear. I know that and I’m sure Harry will be careful, but you didn’t get a chance to practice at school, so just be sure you hold on tightly.”

“Mum!” Ginny put her fork down. “We—will—be—fine.”

Molly sat back, then opened her mouth and closed it. She looked from Ginny to Harry and back.

Harry smiled. “Really, Mrs. Weasley, it’ll be okay. All the time I was Apparating last year I was always looking over my shoulder for Death Eaters. It’ll be a lot easier now, so don’t worry.”

She gazed at him, and Ginny glanced at him, too. He looked a little uncomfortable at first under her mum’s eye, but he smiled again. “I’ll take care of Ginny, Mrs. Weasley, I promise.”

Molly blinked. “I know you will, Harry. I think you’ll take better care of her than anyone ever has.” She got up and turned her back, but Ginny had seen the tears in her eyes.

Dawn broke, and people drifted downstairs. Hermione came down just behind Arthur, and soon Ron appeared, yawning and scratching his back where the worst of his sunburn was peeling. Then Fleur tripped brightly into the kitchen, flouncing her long silver hair just for the pleasure of it, and Ginny wondered if Fleur’s cheerfulness so early in the morning ever annoyed Bill.

As soon as there was enough light, Harry and Ginny went outside; both were wearing light traveling cloaks against the possibility of weather. Molly hugged them both — Ginny was sure it was the first one for Harry since the notice from the Ministry had come — and Ron told them that he and Hermione would meet them in time for dinner. Then Ginny’s father gave her a kiss and took Harry’s hand in both of his. “Have a good time, son,” he said, then turned and went back inside. Ginny took Harry’s left elbow, but watched her dad walk back to the house.

Harry put his right hand on Ginny’s right, the one holding his arm. “Ready?” he asked. Ginny swallowed and nodded vigorously. It was about to happen; thoughts of her parents vanished and she had to restrain herself from bouncing up and down on her feet. She tightened her grip, and felt Harry turn, then a crushing sensation pressed the air out of her lungs. She felt herself whirling with him, and she concentrated on the elbow in her grip, but Harry’s hand was also holding her tightly. Then the crushing feeling was gone and they were standing in a lane in front of a building. It was cooler and slightly lighter than it had been at the Burrow. She looked around and recognized Hogsmeade, but as she dropped Harry’s arm, she was momentarily disoriented; the building in front of them was strange, and she did not recognize it.

She looked at Harry; he was grinning, and she had never seen his green eyes sparkle like they were now. He made a sweeping gesture with his arm. “Happy birthday again. Do you like it?”

“I... sure, yes... but, what is it?”

Harry laughed. “I was hoping you’d say something like that. It’s the Hog’s Head! I bought it last spring and I’ve spent the whole summer fixing it up for you. Do you like it?”

Ginny’s jaw dropped; she stared at the pristine, whitewashed walls, the bright red trim, the window boxes filled with red, yellow, purple, orange, and pink blossoms. She felt a little dizzy and took Harry’s arm again. She turned her head slowly and saw Scrivenshaft’s and Gladrags down the lane, the back of Dervish and Banges off to the side, and behind her, across an open field, the back of the post office and, past that, The Three Broomsticks. The railroad station was down the hill out of sight, as was Hogwarts and the Black Lake.

She took Harry’s hand and pointed with it to the empty bracket over the door. “Where’s that horrible sign? Are you getting a new one?”

“It’s out back. I told the goblins they could have it.”

“The who? Goblins?”

“I bought it from them. They used to own it before Aberforth, then right after the battle he sold it back, and it’s a long story, but I ended up with it.”

Ginny shook her head. “I still don’t get it. Why did you buy it? Who’s going to run it?”

“Me.”

Ginny was now totally perplexed. “Harry, you’re going to run it? You’re going to run an inn? Is that what you want?”

“Ginny! Wait! I think it’ll be fun, maybe... I hope... But I did it so I could be here, with you. It’s a place for both of us, don’t you see?”

Ginny could tell that Harry had started to worry, but she still didn’t understand. “It’s... it’s a great idea, it really is. But... “ She looked up and saw the open casement window on the second floor with bright yellow curtains hanging in it. Suddenly she understood. “Harry, is that a flat up there?”

He followed her look, then laughed again, this time in relief. “Yes. Oh, Merlin, you thought it was still like it was before, when you went through the portrait into Hogwarts!”

They embraced, laughing, then Ginny took his hand. “I think I’m beginning to get the idea. Show it to me!”

He opened the front door and they went inside. Harry waved his wand, and hundreds of candles flared in the two chandeliers, in brass candlesticks lining the mirrors behind the bar, and in dozens of sconces along the walls. The room was flooded with light from the candles and from the glittering crystals of the chandeliers. Ginny gasped and put her hands to her mouth. She went to the bar and looked behind it, at the mug and glass racks above, and the ornate mirror. It was encased in a gilt frame, and all around the edges were inlays of stained glass that reflected a rainbow of colors from the candles.

Harry led her through a door next to the bar into the kitchen, and Ginny couldn’t help the “Oooh” that escaped her. “Harry, this is beautiful! How did you do all this?”

“It wasn’t me, believe me. I hired a contractor that Bill told me about, Tony. You’ll meet him. He lives right outside the village and he’s —“

“Wait! Is that Tony Trostle?”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded. “Do you know him?”

“No, but Dad told me that he was the one who organized the village to fight.”

“At the battle? Last spring? I never knew that.”

“I can’t wait to meet him! He helped save all our lives. And he can do this, too.” She gestured around the kitchen. “Amazing.”

Harry’s demeanor suddenly turned sober. “Ginny, that problem I didn’t want to tell you about? I think I should now. Tony’s been helping me with that, too.” He didn’t say anything for a moment. Finally he took a breath. “Someone put a Dark Mark over the back door. I found it just before I went home last week. Tony tried to find out who did it, but no one saw anything and we still don’t know anything. It looked like it was painted on the wall, and I don’t think they used magic to put it there.”

“A Dark Mark?” Ginny felt a chill, even though the room was pleasantly warm. “Well what kind of effing moron would do that? It wasn’t a Death Eater, they’re all in jail. It had to be a prank.”

“Yeah, that’s what I think, but I’m sorry, Gin, I wanted it to be perfect. There’ s always something, isn’t there?” He leaned against a counter and shook his head.

Ginny hated to see the disappointment in his face, so different from the pleasure that had been there a moment ago. She put her arms around him. “Love, it’s all right. They can’t do anything to us. We’re so much stronger, can’t you feel it? And people like Tony aren’t afraid anymore. We aren’t alone. The inn is beautiful. Come on, I want to see the upstairs.”

She pulled him away from the counter, and kissed him. Harry could feel the locket under her blouse. “Ah, there it is,” he put his hand on it. “I was wondering if you had worn it.”

“I like where it is,” she smiled, and Harry knew that she meant his hand as well as the locket.

“Come on,” he grinned, “there’s more to see.” He led her out a door that opened into a small vestibule. Stairs on the right climbed up to the flat, and in front of them was the back door. "I want to show you where it was,” he said, and opened the door. He suddenly stopped.

Ten yards away under a spreading elm tree, Winky was getting to her feet. Next to her was a blanket and a large copper ladle, the same one she had tried to clobber Tony with a week ago. She looked at them, blinking away sleep.

“Good morning, Harry Potter,” she squeaked. “You is back with Ginny Weasley.”

“Winky,” Harry said, “what are you doing?”

“Winky is waking up. She will make breakfast for Harry and Ginny Pott– for Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley, if they wants it.”

Ginny giggled. Harry glanced at her and smiled wryly, then said to Winky, “No, I meant what were you doing out here? Have you been sleeping under that tree?”

Winky rose to her full height of a little over two feet and looked at them sternly. “Winky has been guarding this door, and no one has come to put the evil sign on it again.” She pointed to the wall with her ladle.

“Where was it?” Ginny asked, and Harry indicated the spot above the lintel. “Winky,” she said to the elf who had come to stand next to them, “you’ve been sleeping out here every night?”

“Harry Potter’s home will not be harmed while Winky is here.” She folded her arms and glared at them. “Does you want breakfast?”

Ginny laughed and Harry grinned. “No, thanks,” he said. “We already ate. But we’ll have lunch later, okay? Do you have anything for lunch?”

The elf looked at him as though he was crazy. “Of course Winky does!” She bowed to them and looked sideways at Ginny. “Winky will be in the kitchen all morning.” She went past them through the vestibule and closed the kitchen door behind her.

“She’ll be in the kitchen all morning,” Ginny told Harry; she swayed ever so slightly, and waited. Harry was lost in thought and didn’t move for a moment, so Ginny gave his hand a tug. “When did you get another elf?”

“Right,” he suddenly said; he hadn’t heard her, “the kitchen. I was just wondering how she knew about lunch.”

“Don’t ask me, I never had a house–elf. But from what I’ve seen of Kreacher and now her, I’d say they can read minds.”

“God, I hope not,” Harry muttered, and looked guiltily at her.

She laughed. “Come on, show me the flat.”

They climbed the stairs, but before Harry opened the door at the top, he paused. “I hope you like it.”

“I already love it!” Ginny had no trouble sounding enthusiastic; everything from the brilliant dining room to the perfect kitchen to finding a house–elf standing guard was wonderful. She couldn’t imagine that Harry’s flat would be different.

The first thing she saw when the door opened was the fireplace, and she immediately recognized it as a copy of the one in the Burrow. She walked around the love seat that faced it and stood on the brick hearth. She ran her hand along the smooth, dark mantel. Harry watched her.

“How did you do this?” she asked, amazed. “It’s beautiful! It’s perfect!”

“So you like it.” Harry was still by the door, grinning.

“Like it? Harry... Yes, I like it! I love it. You made it like the one in the parlor.” She came to him and hugged him. “It’s the best birthday present ever! Except for the locket, I mean. But this one’s great, too. They’re both...” She stopped as Harry kissed her. “Mmm,” was all Ginny could say. “Where’s the...”

“Over here.” Harry led her to the bedroom. The magnificent four–poster with its red and gold hangings stood there, solid, stately, grand. “This is what I especially wanted for you.”

“Harry...” His mouth was on hers and his hands were everywhere as they fell onto the bed. “Harry... Harry!” was all Ginny could say, then, “yes!”

Around noon they wandered into the small kitchen, which Ginny hadn’t seen yet. “Cute,” she said. “Cozy. Perfect for late night snacks.”

“Wait a minute!” Harry exclaimed. “How do you do that? That’s exactly what I thought a month ago when I told Tony what I wanted.”

“I don’t know,” she laughed. “It seems like a good idea.” She went through the cabinets and cupboards. “Uh, Harry, there’s nothing here. What were you planning to eat with?”

“I wanted you to pick it all out. I don’t know anything about that stuff. Can you do it?”

“Of course I’ll do it. You need more furniture, too, and some rugs. How about a big, furry rug in front of the fireplace?”

“And can you help me pick out some pictures and decorations, too? The only picture I have is that one of Hogwarts, but I want to put up more.”

“You have some photos, don’t you, of your parents? You can put one or two of them on the mantel.”

“And I need one of you, for the bedroom.”

Ginny blushed. “Well, I need one of you for my dorm.”

“That’s settled, then. We’ll go to Diagon Alley and get pictures taken and buy everything we need for... for our home.” There was a pause, then Harry cleared his throat. “Well, Winky’s probably ready. Wait here, I’ll go see.”

Ginny walked around the flat while Harry was gone. She noticed the painting of Hogwarts on the wall for the first time, and stood in front of it for a few minutes, wondering where in Merlin’s name he had gotten something so awful. She ran her hand over the mantel again, then pushed the curtains aside and looked out the casement window; she could see the Astronomy Tower at Hogwarts over the roofs of the village, and thought that it would be fun to visit it today. She had never been there during the summer, when few people were around; it would be interesting to see it like that, and to see if all the damage was repaired.

She went into the bedroom and made the bed. This morning was the first time that Harry had loved her in a proper bed, and it was beautiful: warm, snug, and safe. The outdoors had its virtues, but she preferred this. And the bed itself was perfect, like everything that Harry had done here.

Back in the sitting room she went to the picture window and stared across green meadows at the purple hills in the distance. It was a nice view, not grandiose but pretty and quiet. Perfect, again. It was almost too good to be true, like a children’s fairy tale. And she knew why Harry wanted to make everything perfect, why he constantly asked if she liked it. She could sense all too painfully when he had his moments of doubt and loneliness, when he thought that he could never be happy or that he didn’t even have a right to be happy. This inn and the nest he had built in it were his reach for that happiness. Some parts of it, like the pathetic painting of Hogwarts and the empty cupboards in the kitchen, were endearing in their clumsiness, but if his goal was to achieve happiness by pleasing her, then he was well on his way.

Still, Ginny knew that they — she — had to be careful. Harry’s victory over Riddle and his craving for happiness sometimes made him a charging, fire–breathing dragon, capable of accidentally incinerating anything and anyone in his way. She herself could be consumed. It wasn’t that she didn’t want him or want to live with him, or couldn’t imagine any future better than a life with him, but sometimes Harry’s ferocious needs took her breath away, as was happening now with the inn.

Some of it was her own doing, her inability to stop herself, as she had told her mum the morning her dad had brought out the list of underage magic. But she was not sorry for it. There were girls at school who said they wouldn’t have sex before marriage because it was wrong, but how could what happened last night, after Harry showed her what was in the locket, be wrong? How could it be wrong to give and receive so much joy? How could it be wrong to feel so close to someone? The question was not whether it was right for them to be so close, but whether the closeness could hurt them.

Harry’s longing for happiness could easily devour them both. She might be desperate for him sometimes, but she was not, like him, desperate for happiness. In the past, some of her “friends” had warned her about him. He was “damaged goods,” they said, he would hurt her. Everyone knew he had been raised by Muggles who hated him: he had come to Hogwarts looking like a starved rat. There was an element of truth in what they said. Ginny looked on it, though, not as a danger, but as a problem that had to be dealt with and solved, and the crux of her concern about the inn was whether Harry had created a solution or an obstacle.

She heard him coming back up the stairs and turned to face the room. This inn and her being there meant so much to him, and he had done it so well! She was not surprised that he seemed to know exactly what would please her, what kind of chivalry would melt her heart, even though he had so little experience at it. They had both noticed how tuned in to each other's feelings and thoughts they were, and here was another example.

The door opened and Harry was back, and Ginny instantly knew that whatever fears she harbored about the inn could never stand up against the feelings that flooded her when she saw Harry’s smiling and eager face. She would keep her concerns in the back of her mind, but she would embrace her birthday gift.

“It’s ready,” he said, “I hope you’re hungry.”

They found Winky in the kitchen with a knife in each hand chopping walnuts; the blades were moving so fast they were just blurs, making a rapid clacking sound on the cutting board. She put the knives down, and led them into the dining room. The chandeliers were still lit and the shutters were closed; it made the room seem intimate and private. A single table for two had been placed in the center, covered with a white linen tablecloth; a silver candelabra with a single candle stood on it. All the other tables had been pushed back to the walls.

Harry led Ginny to the table and held a chair for her as she sat down. Winky served a luncheon delight: cold potato soup, tossed salad, baked salmon with a buttery lemon sauce, string beans, and finished off with ice cream sundaes smothered in chocolate syrup and walnuts. When they were done, Ginny leaned back and put her hand on her stomach. “I’m stuffed,” she said. “That was as good a meal as my mum ever made.”

Winky cleared the table — there was definitely magic in how quickly the dirty dishes disappeared, and Harry wondered if the elf had brought some techniques with her from Hogwarts. He and Ginny went back to the kitchen with her, but she shooed them away.

“Don’t get in Winky’s way,” she scolded. “Harry and Ginny Pott— Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley has their own kitchen upstairs. They should go clean that one if they wants.”

“Let’s go for a walk instead,” Harry laughed. They went out the back door, and Harry glanced up at the wall above the lintel. Ginny watched his face. “There must be some kind of protection you can put on the building,” she said. “Why don’t you ask Professor Flitwick? We could walk over to Hogwarts and see him now.”

Harry chewed on his lip, thinking. “No, I don’t want to get everyone all worked up about it yet. I don’t think anyone outside the village knows. But you’re right, there must be something, I’ll ask Hermione. The problem is that it wasn’t put up there with magic. They may have used a magical brush, but the Mark itself was only paint. They could have bought it at a Muggle store. And the brush spell wasn’t even Dark magic. What if Tony has to touch up the paint or repair something? We’d have to undo the spell and then put it back on. I’m damned if I I’ll let them keep me from doing what I want to do!”

To Ginny it didn’t seem like that much trouble, but Harry was clearly adamant, and she didn’t want to argue about anything today. “Let’s go,” she pulled his arm, “I want to see the castle.”

They walked down the High Street, but as they passed The Three Broomsticks Madame Rosmerta opened the door and waved to them. “Harry! Ginny! Someone said they saw the chandeliers lit, and I knew you were here! Come in for a drink.”

Harry looked at Ginny; she nodded, and they followed the proprietress inside. It was crowded, and Rosmerta led them to her table in the back. As Ginny passed between tables of customers who all greeted Harry and smiled at her, she suddenly felt the hair on the back of the neck stand up, and she had an urge to pull out her wand. She glanced around. The inn was full of witches and wizards enjoying their meals and their drinks, talking and laughing with friends. Something made her look at a table near the door where four younger people were sitting, three wizards and a witch. The witch was staring at Harry, and Ginny now knew why her hackles had raised. She stopped and studied the witch with narrowed eyes.

The word that came into Ginny’s mind when she looked closely was “slut.” She could only see her from the chest up, and there was lots to see there. Besides her extremely low–cut blouse, she was wearing neon–red lipstick and heavy mascara; her long blonde hair hung loosely, and when she noticed Ginny she tossed it with a casual shake of her head. She picked up a shot glass and flung its contents down in one gulp without taking her eyes from Ginny. Then she put it down and deliberately looked away.

She was now staring at Harry again, who had moved to the back of the room with Rosmerta. Ginny glared at the witch until the hussy looked at her again, then joined Harry and Rosmerta. She still felt the urge to throw a hex, but decided it wouldn’t be good for Rosmerta’s business if a customer’s face suddenly blossomed with bat boogers. She sat in a chair with her back to the blonde witch.

A waitress brought over three butterbeers, and Harry introduced her to Ginny. “This is Harriet Smythe, and she’s the one who got me my new barkeep. I forgot to tell you about him. You’ll never guess who: Stan Shunpike. He worked at the Leaky Cauldron before the Knight Bus.”

“Harry, that’s brilliant!” Harry had told Ginny all about his confrontation with Stan during his escape from Privet Drive, and she knew how upset he had been about it. “So you’re a friend of Stan’s?” she asked Harriet.

“Well, maybe a little more than that,” Harriet laughed. “At least I’d like to think so.”

Ginny grinned. “It’ll be good to see him. I only met him the one time I took the Knight Bus three years ago, and I’m glad he’s not in trouble.”

Harriet left to serve other customers, and Harry and Rosmerta talked business for a while; Rosmerta was trying out some new drinks that had just come on the market, and she offered to sell Harry a sample for the Hog’s Head. Harry accepted, and they were about to leave when Ginny leaned toward Rosmerta. “Who is that blonde witch sitting near the door?” she asked, and turned to point her out. The three wizards were still sitting at the table, looking somewhat morose, but their companion had left.

Ginny looked at Rosmerta and then at Harry. He was frowning slightly, and Ginny knew that he had either seen the witch when they came in, or had met her before.

“That was Turquoise Southeby,” Rosmerta was also frowning. “She wanted the cook’s job at Harry’s inn, and she was here for an interview last week.”

“I should have told you about her,” Harry said, “but she was so ridiculous. Some people even thought she might have put the Dark Mark up because she didn’t get the job, but she had an alibi. I still wouldn’t put it past her.” He looked at the door, and suddenly the inn went quiet and most of the other customers also turned.

Ginny knew without looking who it was, but she was still unprepared for what she saw. Turquoise Southeby was about to sit at the table she had left, but she paused, undoubtedly to make sure everyone noticed her. Now she was wearing very tight white shorts and a matching, skimpy halter top. Before she took her chair, she gazed toward the back of the inn directly at Harry, and her manner was so brazen that several customers also looked at him.

Ginny heard Harry’s chair scrape the floor, and she rose with him. Rosmerta muttered an apology, but Harry waved it off. He took Ginny’s arm and they walked through the crowd to the front of the room. Neither of them looked at Southeby, but when they were a few steps from the door, Harry put his arm around Ginny’s waist and pulled her close. Outside, as they turned toward the railroad station and the lane to Hogwarts, Harry said, without looking at Ginny, and in a voice as angry as she had ever heard him use, “Bitch!”

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