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

Author: MyGinevra

Story: The Hog's Head

Part: 15: Melancholy Baby

Rating: Teens

Setting: Post-DH

Status: WIP

Warning: Extreme Language, Sexual Situations

Reviews: 11

Words: 8,609

Updated: April 26, 2008, 7:53pm

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15: Melancholy Baby

The skies lightened in the east on an overcast Sunday morning, and the denizens of the tent began to stir. No one had gone home after the pyrotechnics. They had pulled the sides of the tent down and slept scattered about on conjured cushions, on the grass floor, or sitting in chairs. Ginny and Harry had dozed off with their backs against the bandstand, surrounded by their friends.

Ginny was one of the first to rouse and stagger outside into a damp and blustery day that felt like it would become a rainy one. She went into the Burrow, where her mother was in the kitchen brewing large pots of coffee while Fleur and Charlie prepared trays of warm pastries. They levitated the assembled breakfast out to the tent, and the aromas gradually awoke everyone who was not already up; Harry took a cherry Danish from the platter that Ginny passed around.

“This was a great party,” said Luna as she picked the cheese filling out of a croissant with her finger. “It’s a good way to end the summer.” She stuffed the empty shell into her mouth and stood holding the cheese in her hand. “Does anyone want this?”

Dean scraped the cheese off Luna’s hand and deposited it onto his plate; he put it down and wiped off his hands. “So Harry, when will the Hog's Head open?”

“When the Hogwarts Express pulls into Hogsmeade Station on September first. We’ll be there to meet it.”

“Who?” said Luna.

“Me and Ginny. We’ll have snacks and drinks for everyone. For free.”

Luna nodded and looked around; Ginny was on the bandstand talking to Keesha, who was packing up the instruments with the rest of the band. “Okay,” Luna said, “I guess I’ll see you then. ‘Bye everyone.” She waved to no one in particular and Disapparated.

“When did she learn how to do that?” Neville asked, staring at the spot Luna had just vacated.

“Two weeks ago,” said Dean. “She’s a natural. She got her license three days ago.”

Soon the rest of the young people who had stayed overnight followed Luna. The tent was struck, the decorations taken down, and quickly the Burrow was back to normal. Bill and Fleur left early in the afternoon, and by evening Percy, George, Ron, and Hermione had also departed. Charlie would be staying for two more days to take care of some business he had at the Ministry with a dragon conservationist in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.

It would have been depressingly quiet for Ginny, except that she had to begin getting ready for school. She had procrastinated with everything — cleaning, books, supplies, clothes, and robes — and now she had only two weeks to do everything. Harry had to be at the inn, getting it ready for the grand opening, so they decided that Ginny would spend the next week preparing for school, and Harry would likewise concentrate on the inn. They would at least get to see each other in the evenings, and they hoped that they could spend the final week of summer together.

“Maybe we can stay at the inn all week.” Harry had a suggestive smile as they lounged on the sofa in the parlor late Sunday evening; the remnants of the party had finally been cleaned up, and Ginny’s parents and Charlie had gone to bed. It had rained all day, and it was still coming down strong, so a ramble in the countryside was not in the cards.

“I’d like that,” Ginny purred with her head in his lap; Harry was tracing her freckles with his fingers. “Let’s make that our goal. Percy was telling us last night in the tent that everyone should have goals.”

“Good, that’ll be our goal, then. And we can tell Perce that he helped bring purpose and achievement into our lives.”

Ginny chuckled, but then she grew silent. She took his hand and entwined their fingers.

“What is it, love?” Harry asked.

She smiled at his endearment. “Nothing. I was just thinking about us. What do you think will happen after the school year?”

“You said it exactly, Us.”

“I know, but what do you think will happen? Do you really want to work at the inn, always? I’ll have to figure out what to do, too. There wasn’t much career counseling last year.”

Harry began combing her hair with his fingers; he did it whenever he got the chance. “I guess I haven’t thought about it. I just knew, the day after the battle, that I wanted to be with you, whatever I did.”

“Maybe you should start thinking about it, at least a little.”

“Sure.” Harry’s fingers slid gently through her hair. “But let’s get through this week first. Our goal, remember?”

“Olay,” Ginny smiled. “I suppose we have plenty of time to think about next year.” She pulled his head down and they kissed until Harry leaned too far and they rolled, giggling, onto the floor. There was some intense snogging until Ginny enforced the house rule — no love–making inside — and they forced themselves upstairs and into their separate bedrooms.

* * * *

The rain never let up all week, which made their chores that much more unpleasant. Ginny spent a soggy day in Diagon Alley rounding up books; a new cauldron and advanced potion–making equipment for Professor Slughorn’s N.E.W.T. class; writing supplies — she planned to send an owl to Harry in Hogsmeade every night — and a broomstick servicing kit that Harry insisted on paying for. She had to get it all back home in a drenching downpour, and when some of the Floo powder flamed in her hand, she came crashing out of the fireplace in the kitchen and sprawled on the floor at her mother’s feet with her parcels scattered everywhere. She spent the rest of the day organizing her textbooks, mending clothes, and coaxing Bailey to go out hunting even though the owl clearly disliked the rain. But mostly she stared moodily out the window of her bedroom, missing Harry and counting the hours and minutes until he returned.

Harry spent his days ordering supplies, planning meals, helping Stan organize the bar, and keeping Winky out of Stan’s hair. The elf had definite territorial feelings about the inn, and she often tested Stan’s good nature with forays behind the bar. She lectured him on how to organize the glasses and mugs in the overhead racks, the best temperature to keep mead at, and how to fold napkins properly so that they stood up like little white tents on the table tops. Harry tried to keep her out of the dining room, but he eventually gave in to her mulish persistence and told Stan he would deal with her later.

Harry also had to buy furniture for the flat. He talked it over with Ginny on Monday evening back at the Burrow, and they decided that she would make another trip into Diagon Alley. She went back on Thursday morning and found a tiny storefront next to Fortescue’s old ice cream store that magically opened up inside into a huge furniture warehouse. The manager, a brisk young witch, was a Metamorphmagus, judging from the ever–changing shapes of her nose and ears. The constant shape–shifting finally became too annoying for Ginny, and she walked out having bought only a set of dressers. She figured that they had chairs for the kitchen, the love seat for the parlor, and the bed for the bedroom, and that was enough for the time being.

Harry came home tired every night, usually after dinner and in the rain. The weather kept them indoors, and so they stayed up late until Molly and Arthur had gone to bed so that they could have some privacy in the parlor. This made Harry even more tired the following day, and by Thursday Ginny was becoming worried about his Apparitions. The rain slowed to a fine drizzle in the evening, and when the usual feeling came over her that he was on his way, she went out and waited by the gate. When he finally popped into the lane, he staggered and Ginny ran to meet him.

“Are you all right?” She started counting his fingers and feeling his face; everything was intact, and she kissed him. “Is everything okay at the inn?” There had been no more incidents, but Ginny worried, and she also had it in the back of her mind that Turquoise Southeby would show up, especially since the tart probably knew that Harry was alone there all day.

“Everything’s fine,” he said wearily. “Nothing happened, and that’s a problem. We were supposed to get a shipment of that new Potio Vitae drink, but the supplier sent an owl. They’re having problems with the quality, which doesn’t really inspire confidence, does it?” They started walking back to the house as large raindrops began splattering around them. Harry put his traveling cloak over Ginny’s head and his arm around her shoulder. “God, I missed you. I had to use this all day, just to keep myself sane, but instead it drove me crazy.” He laughed and pulled the silver chain from inside his shirt and pressed the shiny cylinder to his lips. Ginny’s scent filled the damp air, and Harry stopped and put his arms around her. He kissed her fiercely, lifting her off the ground as he did. They stopped kissing only when a simultaneous flash of lighting and clap of thunder made them jump. They ran through the pelting rain to the house, and Harry started to open the door but Ginny stopped him. They were soaked and getting wetter as she took his face in her hands. “Harry,” she whispered, “come to my room tonight.”

“What?” Harry wasn’t sure if had heard her right through the rumbles of thunder and the torrents of rain. “I thought you didn’t...”

“Just be very quiet. You’ll have to pass my parents’ room.” she kissed him again and opened the door.

Her mother was waiting with her wand, and quickly had them dry and warm. She also had a large bowl of hot vegetable soup and a loaf of fresh bread ready for Harry, and bustled him to the table. He sat down with a sigh, and smiled up at her. “You’re the best, Mrs. Weasley.” She tousled his hair, which was still damp, and turned to the sink before he could see her blush.

The storm continued; the rain drummed against the windows of the house, and sometimes the flashes of lightning were so close together that it seemed like daylight outside. Harry and Ginny stayed with her parents in the parlor in front of a crackling fire; they lay on the hearth side by side, poking at the fire with sticks of wood.

“Harry,” Arthur said in a lull of the storm, “have you heard anything from the Ministry yet about the rock–throwing incident?”

Harry rolled over onto his elbow. “The two chaps we caught were Obliviated, so they didn’t learn anything from them. And no one’s reported a missing person that fits their descriptions, either. And it looks like one of them is a Squib.”

Molly shook her head and clucked. “It sounds to me like a practical joke. I should think they could tell something from their clothes or their accents.” She reached up and replaced a skein of yarn for one of her enchanted knitting needles; another maroon sweater was finished.

“Nope, nothing,” Harry replied, and rolled over onto his stomach again. “I wish it was just a joke, but I don’t think so.” He put his head down on his arms and yawned, and Ginny began to massage his shoulders. “I’d better go to bed,” he yawned again. “I have to get back early tomorrow. The beverage bloke will be there at eight.”

“I think it’s time for everyone to go to bed,” said Molly. She plucked her knitting project out of the air and stood up. “Come on, Arthur, it’s a good night for snuggling.”

Ginny and Harry smiled to each other as her parents left the room. They knew that Arthur and Molly were giving them time alone, but now Harry wanted to get upstairs as soon as possible.

“Are you sure?” he whispered on the landing in front of Ginny’s room; she nodded. “How long should I wait?”

“Until you’re desperate,” she giggled. “But maybe you can wait until the thunder gets loud. I don’t think they’d hear a herd of dragons through that.”

Harry gave her a quick kiss — he didn’t trust himself to do more — and hurried upstairs. He put on his pajamas and lay on top of his covers, trying not to think of Ginny. He considered getting out his Invisibility Cloak, but decided that he didn’t want her parents to suspect that he was sneaking around their house; if he was caught, he would just have to think of an excuse.

Finally, after an hour of agony, the storm, mirroring Harry’s emotional state, intensified, and he slipped out of the attic room and crept downstairs as quietly as he could. On the first landing, he waited until several flashes of lightning appeared within a few seconds of each other, and started toward Ginny’s room. Just as the thunder began to peal, he reached her door and went inside.

He stood for a moment in front of the door. When the rolls of thunder died down, he heard clucking and the sound of Bailey shifting on her perch. “Come here!” Ginny said in a loud whisper. He walked to her bed, and she lifted the covers, inviting him in. “Why are you wearing pajamas?” she whispered.

* * * *

Harry was eating breakfast the next morning with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley when Ginny came sleepily downstairs in her dressing gown and with totally disheveled hair; she was running her fingers through it, trying without much success to untangle it. Arthur was reading the Prophet and briefly looked up and greeted her, but her mum surveyed her with slightly raised eyebrows. Ginny sat down next to Harry, who was trying not to look at her, certain that if he did his expression would give away everything. It didn’t help when she put her hand on his leg under the table, but he managed not to choke on the slice of toast he was eating.

Ginny yawned. “Is it still raining?” she asked, staring groggily straight ahead at the wall.

“Look out the window, dear,” her mother tsked. “It never stopped.”

Ginny glanced outside, then patted Harry’s hand. “I’m sorry. This weather is awful. You’ll be careful, won’t you?”

“Sure,” Harry smiled at her. “And if I can take care of the beverage delivery and a couple of other things, I’ll be back early.”

“Good. Do you have it?” She put her hand on his chest and felt the Bouquedelle under his shirt. Harry smiled again and held her hand against it until he became aware of her mother staring at them. He got up and took his dishes to the sink, then took his traveling cloak from its hook by the door. He said goodbye to Molly and Arthur, and Ginny followed him into the parlor; he had decided to Disapparate there because of the weather. He kissed her goodbye, a little more passionately than his usual morning farewell, and vanished.

Ginny dragged herself back to the kitchen but didn’t sit down. “I think I’ll skip breakfast right now, Mum,” she yawned again. “I didn’t sleep very well. All that thunder kept waking me up.”

Molly watched her go upstairs and waited until she heard the door close, then began clearing the table. “Did you see them?” she asked Arthur.

He put the paper down. “Yes, they both seemed a little tired. The storm, I suppose.”

Molly snorted. “There was a storm all right.” She clattered the dishes in the sink, then stopped and said, without looking at him, “What do you think about Ginny’s staying at the inn next week?”

“What? When did that happen?”

“Don’t you listen? She told us two days ago that she might do it. It bothers me. They’re moving along too quickly.”

Arthur sighed; he didn’t want to start this conversation five minutes before he had to leave for work. “Can we talk about it later?” he asked. “But,” he added hastily, seeing her scowl, “it won’t be the end of the world if I’m fifteen minutes late. And speaking of which, it won’t be the end of the world if Ginny lives with him for a few days, either.”

“I’m not talking about death and destruction,” Molly said irritably. “I’m talking about what’s sensible and what’s not.” Her face softened. “I have no doubt about their love for each other, it’s just that they’re moving along so fast. Were you aware that Harry spent a good part of the night in her room last night?”

Arthur passed his hand over his eyes. He shook his head. “No, and I’m not sure I want to know.”

“Are you saying you want to hide your head in the sand?”

“Of course not. It wasn’t the smartest thing for them to do, but on the other hand... You might not like my saying this, Molly, but to be totally honest about it, they couldn’t get outside by themselves all week, and we both know what they do out there. A couple of weeks ago you said you didn’t know what the right thing to do was. Well, you were right then, and you would still be right if you said the same thing now.”

Molly sat down and smiled wanly. “She’ll be gone in less than two weeks.” She shook her head and dabbed at her eyes. “I suppose for her it’s not happening fast enough.”

Arthur got up and put his arms around her. “I’ll say to you what you said to me. Just consider who she chose, and look at what he’s doing for her. Could we ask for more?”

She shook her head wordlessly, and her eyes brimmed over. “Go to work,” she said. “You’ll be late.”

Ginny went back to bed and burrowed under the covers. Harry’s scent was still on the pillow and she buried her face in it. She felt a little guilty about violating her “house” rule, but only a little. The important thing was her and Harry, and when he came home last night she had seen discouragement and weariness in his eyes. He was working so hard just to please her, and she couldn’t stand to see him like that.

But the night in her bed had quite changed his mood, because when she finally pushed him out her door just before dawn, he was joking about cutting his four–poster in half down the middle so that they could be as close together there as they were in her narrow bed. She had stood on the landing outside her room, gazing up the stairs for minutes after he had gone into his room, and she had barely closed her door in time to avoid being seen by her mum, who was just coming out of her own room.

As Ginny now lay in bed hugging her pillow, she thought about the coming year and wondered how she was going to get her school work done, with Quidditch practices on top of that. She knew that Harry wouldn’t be helpful; he would want her to be at the inn as often as possible. Somehow, they would have to work it out; she didn’t know how, but it was, after all, a nice problem to have...

She drifted off to sleep under snug covers while the rain beat on her window.

At that moment Harry was sitting at a table in a corner of the dining room of the Hog's Head Inn, scowling at a parchment he had just taken from an owl that had arrived a short time ago. The message was from Jake Sipper, the owner of Sipper’s Beverage and Tea Emporium. He was informing Harry, regretfully, that the shipment of butterbeer, mead, tea, coffee, and the new drink that was all the rage in the wizarding world, Potio Vitae, had been delayed again because of the weather and continuing “quality” problems. He apologized, and assured Harry that it wasn’t his fault but that he was working as hard as possible to resolve the problem.

Harry slammed the parchment on the table and stood up. Stan looked at him from behind the bar where he was cleaning the inlaid mirror and its ornate, gilded frame. “No shipment this morning, ‘Arry?”

Harry shrugged. “Who knows? He doesn’t say when it’ll come. I’ll have to wait all day until either it comes or he tells me it won’t be coming. And if he wants to deliver it on the weekend, I’ll have to stay here the whole damn time.” He swore again. “Why can’t it be easy, or at least not so damn aggravating? He’s been promising this for three days now.” He sat back down as abruptly as he had stood up.

“I told you before, ‘Arry, I can sign for it if you want.” Stan put down the cloth he had been polishing the frame with. “I don’t mind. ‘Arriet can take some time and wait with me.”

Harry looked out a window at the steady rain. It was cooler and damper here in the north, a thoroughly dismal day. He hadn’t slept much last night. He could leave the inn in Stan’s capable hands and return to Ginny — his hand strayed to the Bouquedelle under his shirt — but he knew that would be wrong. He had been admonished by Rosmerta and lectured by George about having to take responsibility if he also wanted to own the business; that was the only way to make it succeed, they both had assured him.

Besides, he felt guilty about dumping it all on Stan. Harry had begun to realize that Stan was so grateful to him for giving him a job while he still bore, in some people’s minds, the stigma of being a Death Eater, that he would do almost anything for Harry. Harry didn’t want that, did not like that kind of devotion, had never asked for it. He liked Stan a lot, and was grateful himself for a barkeep so competent and so easy to work with.

“No, thanks, Stan,” he sighed. “I really appreciate it, but Sipper’s expecting me to be here. It’s all right. I’ll just have to wait.” He stood up again and walked to the front door. He opened it and saw rain. Above his head hung the empty brackets that the sign with the beheaded boar had hung from, and he realized that he needed to make another decision.

He turned back to Stan. “Okay, it’s time to pick a name. I’ve put it off too long. What shall we call this place? Do we keep the old name? Do we name it Harry’s Hangout, or Heaven Inn Hogsmeade, or the Eight Broomsticks, or what? What do you think?” He closed the door and went to the bar and sat on a stool.

Stan began polishing the counter, which he did constantly, no matter that he hadn’t served a single customer yet. “What about Ginny? ‘As she told you what she likes?”

“She doesn’t like Gin’s Joint, which was her brother’s idea, but she does like Harry’s Cosy Little Inn, which isn’t on my short list. So she told me to pick a name, and if she doesn’t like it, she’ll decide for me.”

Stan chuckled. “I’ve told you, keep the old name. Everyone knows it, that’s what it’s been called since forever. If you change it, I bet people will still call it the ‘ogs ‘ead, or the old ‘ogs ‘ead. You won’t get anyone to call it anything else, I’ll bet a week’s pay on it.”

Harry laughed, glad to be cheered by Stan’s good humor. “But we also want people to know that it’s new, that it’s cheerful. I want people to come here and have a good time.”

“If the food’s good and the drinks are big, word will get around. Then you’ll ‘ave the best of both. Everyone will know the name, and everyone will know it’s not a dump anymore.

“Hmm.” Harry pondered for a few moments. “Well, that’s possible. It would be the easiest thing to do. What about the sign? I refuse to put up anything remotely like the old one.”

“‘Arriet’s a good artist, did you know that? She’s done lots of things for Rosmerta, like signs, pictures for the walls, stuff like that. I can ask ‘er it she has any ideas.”

“I like that,” Harry nodded. “Why don’t you do that, ask her to paint a sign for us, but something a little less gruesome than a decapitated pig.”

Stan grinned. “She’ll like that, too, ‘Arry. Thanks.”

Harry was starting to feel better. “So we accomplished at least one thing today. Now we just need the beverage man to show up.” He stretched and yawned. “Do you mind watching the place for a bit? I need a nap.” Stan waved him off, and Harry left; he didn’t see Winky in the kitchen, but he heard her snores echoing from inside a cabinet near the fireplace.

Upstairs, he took off his shoes and lay on the bed, thinking about Ginny and last night. They had lain close together all night, and there were times that he had thought it would drive him crazy, just having their flesh being in constant contact. There were a few moments when, as he looked into her eyes, he almost thought he was seeing out of them, seeing himself looking back at her. It was strange, almost scary, and in a way a little funny because everything was in perfect focus, not slightly blurred as it always was without his glasses on.

He missed her, even after only a few hours; he felt alone. He thought back to the times in the past year when he had really been alone, sitting watch in the tent entrance on some forlorn moor, listening to Hermione and Ron talking inside, looking up at the stars, trying to ignore the kernel of fear that was a constant presence in the pit of his stomach. Whenever he had thought of Ginny then, he had not felt the flaming desire that he did now. It was more like a longing for something that seemed impossible, something that would never happen. It had always brought a melancholy sorrow to his spirit, along with the additional fear that the happiness he had experienced in their few weeks together would never be more than a memory.

But then he would remember the words she had spoken on his birthday, the day before the fall of the Ministry: “There’s the silver lining I was hoping for...” Recalling those words was always a tonic, a tiny jolt of hope that, if he could survive and somehow win, she would be there. The words meant that Ginny was true to him, she was thinking about him as he was thinking about her. He would look up at the stars again and see the beauty of the universe and know that he would see her again.

He pressed the Bouquedelle to his lips and fell asleep enveloped in Ginny.

He awoke to loud knocking on the parlor door. “‘Arry?” he heard Stan call. “‘e’s ‘ere, that Sipper bloke with the drinks. ‘Arry?”

Harry jumped up. “Come on in, Stan,” he called, pulling on his trainers. The door opened and Stan poked his head in.

“They’re downstairs. I’ll tell them you’ll be right down.” Harry hurried after him and found Stan, Winky, Sebastian Sipper, and one of his workers in the dining room, surrounded by kegs, cartons, and cases of bottles.

“Sorry for the delay, Harry,” Sipper apologized and mopped water from his hair with a bright orange towel. He was a squat, burly wizard with a head of hair that was almost as red as Ron’s, and a large red handlebar mustache that was also dripping rain water. Harry looked at the puddle on the floor, but Sipper continued. “I don’t understand why they held up the order,” he waved at the stack of cases with the Potio Vitae label. “They said they had a bad batch, but I think they’ve miscalculated how popular it is, and just ran out. I opened a bottle to check it, and it’s fine. Great stuff, I have to say.”

“Well, at least it’s finally here,” Harry said. He tried to stop Winky from cleaning up the puddle of water, but she shrugged off his hand and glared at Sipper as she mopped it up with a bar towel. Harry walked around the pile of cartons. “And it’s all here, the whole order?”

“Yep, it’s all here,” Sipper replied. “Do you want a hand putting it away?”

“No, we can handle it. Where’s the receipt?”

Sipper produced a long parchment and handed it to Harry, then pulled a quill out of his pocket. “Just sign right here, Harry, and we’ll be off. Got another overdue delivery up in Edinburgh, and the weather’s getting worse.”

Harry signed, and Sipper and his man left. Harry heard them Disapparate, then he turned to Stan. “Let’s take care of this and then I think I can be off.” He and Stan began separating the delivery and levitating the items into the storage room behind the bar. After a moment, Stan frowned and began counting.

“‘old on a minute, ‘Arry,” he finally said, “let me see the invoice.”

“Now what?” Harry handed it to him with a scowl. Stan ran his finger down the parchment.

“They shorted us eight cases of butterbeer. We only got twelve.”

“God damn it!” Harry shouted, and the carton of tea he was levitating shot forward and slammed into the wall; it fell to the floor and split open, and tins of tea spilled out. “Who the hell does he think he is? I’ll —“

“Wait!” Stan said. ‘Here, at the bottom, it says he owes us eight. It’s all right, ‘Arry, we’ll be fine with the dozen ‘e delivered.”

Harry grabbed the invoice from Stan and peered at it, then put his hand to his head. “I have a headache,” he groaned. “I can’t take much more of this. Why does this have to happen? Why doesn’t he tell us the truth? Why can’t he just deliver the damned things? When I fought Riddle, all I had to do was shoot a spell and it was over. This is way harder, and a lot less satisfying.”

“Harry Potter is a wizard. Harry Potter is not learning how to run an inn at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,” Winky said from behind the table where she had ducked when Harry propelled the carton of tea into the wall. “When Winky has been a house–elf at the House of Crouch, she has been seeing these things happen all the time. Mrs. Crouch has always laughed when it happens. Harry Potter should laugh, too.” She paused for a moment. “And Harry Potter should not waste tea that he is already paying for.”

Harry dropped his hand — his wand had been raised — and gave Winky a wry look. “Who needs a mum when he has house–elf,” he said.

“Good advice,” Stan laughed. “Now look, ‘Arry, why don’t you just go on ‘ome, ‘ave a nice long weekend with Ginny, and next week the weather will be good and everything will be great.”

‘Stan Shunpike is being right for once,” Winky said, and Stan looked at Harry with a grin. “And Harry Potter must remind Ginny Weasley about her chocolate birthday cake,” the elf added.

“I’ll do that,” Harry laughed. “We may both be back here next week,” he said to Stan. “That, uh, that won’t bother you, will it?”

“No, no! Why should it? That’ll be brilliant, ‘Arry. She’s a swell witch, and ‘Arriet likes ‘er, too.”

“Then let’s get the rest of this put away. I’ll send an owl to Mr. Sipper to tell us exactly when he’s planning to finish the order, and then... that’ll be it.”

Harry repaired the smashed carton and put the tea tins back inside with a Pack spell, then they quickly stored the last of the order. Harry hurried to the post office and sent his owl to Sipper, feeling buoyant despite the continuing downpour, knowing he would soon see Ginny. He said goodbye to Stan and Winky, and Disapparated back to the Burrow.

He Apparated in the parlor and startled Molly, who shrieked and jumped off the sofa where she had been helping her knitting needles untangle two skeins of yarn. “Harry! My goodness! I didn’t expect you —“

The door burst open and Ginny flew in. “I knew you would be home early!” she cried. “Is everything okay? You didn’t get wet, did you?”

“Everything’s fine,” he smiled, “and it’s impossible not to get wet. It’s raining just as hard up there. The order came late, and then Stan told me to go home, so here I am.”

“Did you eat lunch yet?” Ginny and Molly both said at exactly the same time.

“No,” Harry laughed, and Ginny waved to her mother to sit back down. She led Harry out the door, and the instant she closed it they embraced in a long, tight, snog.

“What do you want for lunch?” Ginny said when she finally had to take a breath.

“The usual.” Harry straightened his eyeglasses, then brushed the hair back from her face. “Do you think you can cook it up for me?”

“Anything you want is yours,” she whispered, then giggled. “Later. Now eat. Since I knew you’d be home early, I waited.”

They ate the soufflé that Ginny had learned to make from Fleur, and talked, and although neither one said anything about their daydreams, they both knew that they had been thinking about each other. Harry asked Ginny again if she could spend the last week of the summer with him at the inn, and Ginny told him that she had already started to pack. The only problem was that Ginny still had things to do to get ready for school, so Harry offered to help her as much as possible, and when everything was done, they would then go on up to Hogsmeade together.

They even made plans for what they would do during the week. Ginny wanted to help get the inn ready for its opening on September first. She also wanted more shopping trips to London to finish furnishing the flat, and to begin the Apparition lessons that Percy had given her for her birthday. The African dance concert that Saliyah had told them about was also scheduled for that week.

They set to work with a will. They spent the afternoon cleaning Ginny’s room, packing her trunk, and finishing mending and sorting her clothes and robes. Molly looked in on them once, sitting on the floor in Ginny’s room, trying to figure out the best way to pack her cauldron so that the delicate scales would not be damaged. Molly smiled and closed the door.

“I think she’ll be okay with it,” Ginny said as they both looked at the closed door. “I hope Dad is, too.”

Harry stood up. “I think we’re finished.”

Ginny examined the cauldron one last time and smiled at him. “We did it. We met our goal. Percy will be so proud.” She went to her desk and took out a box of letter parchment, ink, and a quill. “I’ll just send an owl off to Mr. Twycross and then we can pack this.”

Bailey hopped from leg to leg on her perch and hooted eagerly. Ginny wrote out the note and tied it to Bailey’s leg. She opened the window, and the owl hesitated just for a moment when she saw the steady rain, then hooted loudly and sprang up; they soon lost sight of her in the gloom.

They packed up the rest of Ginny’s desk into her trunk, then Ginny closed the lid and sat down on it. “Come here,” she beckoned to Harry.

“Can’t we sit on something softer?” he looked longingly at the bed. “This will be very hard to sit on.”

“There’s a rule, remember? Just because I let you break it once, doesn’t mean you can break it whenever you want. Now sit here.” She patted the trunk.

“I broke the rule?” Harry feigned disbelief. “If I remember correctly, you were there, too.” He sat on the trunk, put his finger on his cheek, and screwed up his face. “Yes, I definitely remember that you were in the bed with me, I’m one hundred percent positive of that.”

“There’s nothing wrong with your memory, I see, even if your poor bum can’t take a little hardship. But if we sit on the bed, we’ll never get off. I’m one hundred percent positive of that.”

“That’s true,” Harry nodded solemnly, “and dinner’s so close. We have to keep up our strength.”

They both laughed, and Ginny moved closer. “So we’ll leave tomorrow and stay until next Saturday, then we’ll come back for a few days, or at least I will. You can stay at the inn if you have to, and you can meet me when the Express gets in on Tuesday evening.”

Harry looked puzzled. “When the Express gets in? What do you mean?”

“What do you mean, ‘what do I mean’?” Ginny looked just as puzzled. “The Hogwarts Express. It’ll get into Hogsmeade around nine o’clock, like it always does.”

Now Harry looked disturbed. “The Hogwarts Express? Why will you... but... I thought you would be here — I mean at the inn, with me.”

“What are you talking about?” Ginny frowned. “I’m taking the Hogwarts Express from King's Cross Station on September the first, like I always have.”

But I thought... I assumed... Oh.” Disappointment replaced bewilderment on Harry’s face. “I guess I assumed you would just stay at the inn and go to school with the other kids when the train got in.”

“Well, why would you assume that?” Ginny asked crossly. “I never said I wanted to do that. I want to take the train with Keesha and Luna. I talked to them about it at the party.”

“Okay, okay! It’s fine, I understand,” Harry said just as crossly.

They sat on the trunk and didn’t speak or look at each other. Ginny turned to the window, away from Harry, and he looked down at his hands. “I’m sorry,” he finally said. “Can I come to see you off?” She turned back to him and he took her hand. “I shouldn’t have assumed.”

“I should have said something.” Ginny looked at their hands. “Yes, please, I want you to come to the station.” She chuckled. “That way you can see me off and meet me when I arrive.”

“I guess that’s kind of stupid, but I want to see you off, anyway.”

The sat in silence until Ginny rubbed her shoulder against him. “Let’s see how dinner’s coming along. And we’ll have to tell them we’ll be gone all week.”

“Oh, yeah.” Harry stood up with her. He wasn’t sure what had just happened between them, but he was glad that they had resolved it so quickly. He also felt like picking Ginny up and taking her to the bed, but she had moved to the door. She paused before opening it and looked winsomely back at him.

“I feel the same way, love, but let’s wait ‘til tomorrow. It will just be the two of us for a whole week.” She smiled in a way that made Harry’s knees weak, but she opened the door before he could reach her; she scuttled out and ran laughing downstairs. Harry took a breath and followed.

Molly smiled when they entered the kitchen, and nodded when Ginny told her about their plans. “You’ll be back in time to go to King's Cross, won’t you, dear?” she said almost disinterestedly.

Ginny looked at her uncertainly. “Um, of course. And Harry will come see me off.”

“Good. Well, did you finish packing, and cleaning your room, and —“

“Everything’s done, Mum. All I’ll have to do is pick up my trunk. I’ll come back on Saturday, anyway, so I’ll have a couple of days to take care of anything that comes up.”

Molly nodded again. But as Ginny and Harry looked at each other, somewhat surprised at her mild reaction, Molly spoke again. “There’s nothing wrong with what you two are doing, but it’s not a trivial thing, either. Not many people do it when they’re your age, wizards or Muggles.” She smiled at them. “There, I’ve finished my lecture. That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Ginny just stared at her, and Harry mumbled something indistinct and looked at the floor. Molly laughed, and kissed Ginny, then Harry, which embarrassed him even more. “Go on, both of you. Dinner will be ready when Arthur gets home, so go away until I call you.”

They waited in the parlor, sitting side by side on the sofa. Harry didn’t know what to say, and Ginny smiled at his confusion. “They’ve always been like that. And I told you that they did the same thing when they were our age. They must have really been in love, don’t you think?”

Harry finally smiled. “That’s a trick question, isn’t it? Of course they were in love, just like us.”

“Ooh, now that’s an interesting statement. So who was more in love, them or us?”

“No one could be more in love than I am.”

Ginny moved into his lap and put her arms around him. “Harry, why do you always say the right thing? How am I supposed to wait until tomorrow to jump you again?”

“Lady, that’s a tough problem you have, and I’m not going to help you solve it.”

At that moment they heard Arthur Weasley Apparate next to the front door, and a moment later they heard him in the kitchen talking to Molly. “Thank Merlin!” Ginny laughed. “It’s time to eat.”

The next morning they Side–Along Apparated into the dining room of the inn, carrying duffle bags and wearing backpacks with the clothes and belongings they would need for the week. Stan was not at the inn yet, and Winky was puttering in the kitchen and ignored them as they came through from the dining room. “She’s making my cake,” Ginny giggled as they climbed the stairs. They stepped into the sitting room, dropped their luggage, and threw themselves at each other. Harry picked Ginny up and carried her into the bedroom. Somehow, Winky knew not to disturb them, so they were two hungry people who came downstairs for dinner in the early evening. They ate a candlelight dinner, and for dessert Winky proudly served chocolate cake with strawberry icing.

* * * *

The week was a blur of delight and happiness. Everything seemed to go well; even the weather turned sunny and warm. On Tuesday they Apparated into Diagon Alley and finished buying furniture for the flat; they got a large mirror and an easy chair for the bedroom, two small tables and some comfortable chairs for the parlor, and several more pieces of artwork to hang on the walls. Ginny took her first Apparition lesson from Wilkie Twycross at the Ministry while Harry visited with Ron, and then in the evening they attended the African dance concert that Saliyah Ushujaa had invited them to at Tonks and Remus’s funeral.

It was held in the Atrium of the Ministry, and was intended as both a memorial to those killed in the war, and as a re–dedication of the Atrium and the Fountain of Magical Brethren. The grotesque, sinister black statue was gone. In its place were the simple figures of four children, two boys and two girls, standing on a pedestal. It was not even clear if they were magical; they were just holding hands and smiling at each other.

“That’s beautiful. Does anyone know if they used real models?” Ginny said as she and Harry stood looking at it with Ron and Hermione; they were all wearing dress robes, including Ron who made sure that everyone knew that he had bought new ones to replace the embarrassing set he had worn years ago to the Yule Ball.

“The two girls are twins, and they’re actually starting at Hogwarts this year,” said Hermione. “Their parents are Muggles, friends of my folks. I’ve known them since they were born, when I was about seven.”

“What are their names?” asked Harry.

“Emma and Claire Athair. You should try to find them on the Hogwarts Express,” she said to Ginny. “They’re adorable.”

They wandered around the Atrium until the concert began. A stage had been erected in front of the lift to the public entrance, and the Atrium was filled to overflowing with wizards and witches dressed to the hilt. The drums were electrifying, driving and pounding into the audience and the dancers. The costumes were sensuous, elegant, or stately, depending on the theme of the dance. The dances were, as Saliyah had described, emotional and riveting. By the time the concert was over, everyone in the audience felt as exhausted as the dancers.

Afterward, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Saliyah, and the rest of the dancers and drummers stood near the fountain and talked to well–wishers. Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione took a cab back to the Leaky Cauldron — Ron wanted to show off how well he got around Muggle London — and after a few drinks they went up to the flat over Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. They talked long into the night about the summer that had just ended and the upcoming year. Harry and Ginny Apparated back to the inn when the eastern sky was beginning to lighten, and fell into bed and into each other’s arms.

When they got up the next afternoon, they found that their new furnishings had been delivered and were sitting in the parlor. They spent the rest of the day moving furniture and hanging pictures; that is, Ginny decided where to put everything and Harry moved or hung it. By evening the flat had a homey, comfortable feel that delighted them both. After dinner they lit a fire and luxuriated on the rug in front the fireplace, and ended up once again falling asleep there.

Everything went smoothly at the inn. With Ginny’s help Harry was able to keep Winky out of the dining room, and Stan finished his work in peace. Harry was becoming nervous about the grand opening and actually having to serve customers, but there were no hitches in the preparations. All the supplies were delivered on time and both Stan and Winky had their respective areas well under control.

And, much to everyone’s relief, there were no more incidents of vandalism. The only thing that bothered Ginny was that every morning and every evening she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand, and she saw Turquoise Southeby walking through the field in back of the inn, on her way between her home outside the village and the assortment of part–time jobs she held. She never looked at the inn, but as Ginny watched from the picture window, there was no doubt in her mind that the witch had chosen that path because she could parade in full view, swinging her hips as she walked. Ginny never mentioned it, and Harry never saw it. At least she was wearing clothes, thought Ginny.

Ginny and Harry took long walks through the fields and down the country lanes near the village, and also spent a long, sunny afternoon visiting places on the Hogwarts grounds that were familiar — and dear — from the brief moments they had had together before Albus Dumbledore’s death. They visited Hagrid, Fang, and Grawp, who were all delighted to see them, and Hagrid made Harry promise to come watch him teach some of his Care of Magical Creatures classes.

And so the week passed all too quickly, and on Saturday morning Ginny packed her bags and they Apparated back to the Burrow. Harry stayed for an hour or so to collect the rest of his belongings from the attic room, and then he returned to the Hog's Head.

As she stood in the yard with her parents and watched Harry Disapparate, Ginny pressed her hand to the locket underneath her blouse, and realized that a wonderful moment in her life had ended; she felt a wave of melancholy pass over her. Then a hand squeezed her shoulder, and she turned to see her mum, also with a sad expression.

“It was a wonderful summer, darling,” Molly said. “I’m so happy he was here with us — with you.”

Ginny nodded, and suddenly her gloom passed as quickly as it had come. “And it’s going to be a wonderful year, Mum. Look, I never showed you what’s in the locket he gave me on my birthday.” She took out the locket and opened it, and Harry smiled at them. She cupped her hands over it, and Molly peered into them, then looked up. “It’s those eyes, isn’t it?” she said with a slightly wicked grin. “He does have the eyes.” She laughed, and they walked back to the house arm–in–arm.

The weekend passed uneventfully, except that four or five times a day, every day, Ginny sent a love–owl to Harry and he sent one back. It was the first time since the day after the battle that they had been separated for so long. The notes back and forth became so hot that Ginny joked to Harry in one that Bailey was too young to be carrying such explicit messages; Bailey didn’t seem to mind, though, and the passionate letters continued.

Finally, Tuesday, September the first arrived and a taxi took Ginny and her parents, for the last time, to King's Cross Station. When she came through the barrier to platform Nine And Three Quarters, Harry was there. She let go her luggage trolley and ran to him, and until the engine’s whistle blew they were completely unaware of the hundreds of people jostling around them and staring. Her parents somehow got her trunk and Bailey’s cage onto the train, and then Arthur and Molly interrupted the snog to say goodbye. Ginny looked around then, and saw Keesha Baker grinning at her from a carriage window; Luna was next to her, gazing serenely in another direction.

“This is it, love,” Ginny whispered. “But I’ll see you in a few hours.”

“I miss you, I miss you, I miss you, I love you,” Harry whispered back. “I haven’t stopped using the Bouquedelle. What will I do until Friday?”

“We’ll see each other again in a few hours,” she repeated with a laugh. “I love you, too.” Her eyes were blazing as she kissed him once more, then she ran to the train. It began to move just as she boarded. She leaned out the window next to Keesha and Luna, and looked back until she could no longer see him.

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