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Author: critmo Story: Moods Rating: Everyone Setting: Pre-DH Status: Completed Warning: None Reviews: 23 Words: 16,424
Contrary to her assurances, Ginny did care about being caught by her mother, so she shooed a yawning, but happy Harry out of her room before anyone could get the idea of waking the girls or the boys. Thus, Harry did some catching of his own, when he found his two best friends sleeping peacefully in Ron's bed. "Hermione," he said, while shielding his eyes with his hands, "you'll want to put something on, before you leave the room." He heard Hermione squeak and he swore to Ginny afterwards that he was able to see his friend's blush even behind his hands and firmly shut eyes. It was a beautiful day. The oppressive heat of the days before had gone and golden sunshine bathed the Burrow's backyard. Breakfast there was a much more enjoyable affair than dinner had been. The four teenagers were in a playful mood and kept stealing glances at each other, which would have been overly obvious if the table had not been so crowded with so many people. The only sign that their nightly escapades had not gone completely unnoticed was the grumbling of Mrs Weasley that there had been people running up and down the stairs half of the night. However, she had been sidetracked by Fleur who – after a sharp glance at Ginny – had aptly replied that she had had difficulties sleeping due to the heat and had gone down several times to get something to drink. The rush of preparations for the next day's wedding made it easy to disguise everything that was going on between the two couples and when everybody had settled down the following evening, it was Ron who handed Harry his invisibility cloak and told him in a matter-of-fact tone to give it to Hermione so that she could come up to see him without anybody noticing. Harry did not know if he should be shocked or amused. "And what about me?" he asked. Ron looked at him non-plussed. "You stay where you are." Harry raised his eyebrows. "In your little sister's room?" "Not so little anymore." "But still your baby sister." "Hell, yes. But don't tell me you slept in the living room last night." "No, I didn't. But I did sleep." Ron blushed so deeply that Harry feared he would never regain his natural tone of skin again. The muscles in Ron's face worked furiously and after a considerable length of time, he managed to produce an intelligible sound. "Out!" Harry knew that he must not overstrain Ron's capability to keep his sanity, so he literally vanished. When he surreptitiously knocked on Ginny's door, it was opened by Hermione immediately. "What're you doing?" asked Ginny, but Hermione simply drew the cloak off Harry and, without giving him a chance for an explanation, she put on the cloak herself and quickly slipped out the door. Harry and Ginny stood facing each other, and suddenly he was very much aware of the fact that they were alone – probably would be for the rest of the night – and that he was wearing only boxers and an old tee-shirt. He started to blush when he became aware of the expression in Ginny's eyes. It was feral with a hint of satisfaction. "Ginny," he said slowly, "whose idea was this?" The expression in her eyes spread down to her lips and made them twitch into a wild grin. "Hermione wanted to see Ron, Ron wanted to see Hermione, but Mum's grumbling this morning made them fear that they would be caught. They needed a little hint, and after all … you wanted to see me." Harry crossed his arms before his chest. "So you're the only victim here, correct? Forced to put up with me to give your brother and his girl-friend some much-needed privacy?" Ginny looked at him with theatrical shock. "No." She sauntered over to him and put her hands around his neck. "You'll be the victim, once we're finished," she whispered, locking eyes with him. He unfolded his arms to draw her closer. In her gaze was everything he had ever hoped for, and he knew he had to make sure she knew what she was getting herself into. "Ginny," he said without breaking eye-contact, "you know that this is only putting things off?" She swallowed, but nodded. "We're going away, right after the wedding." "I thought you would." "I can't tell you why we're going, where we're going or what we're doing. I have no idea when we will be back or if we can keep in touch. It might be months; it might be longer." Saying it out loud suddenly made everything sound much more real. In less than 48 hours, they would not be there anymore, and he did not really know yet, where they would be. "You can trust me, you know?" There was just the barest hint of disappointment in her voice. "I know I can trust you, Ginny, but not with this. It's not your fault and it's not my fault either. If I told you, and you fell into his hands, he would make you speak. I don't doubt your willingness to keep my secrets, but I do know that he has ways to get what he wants. Can you withstand Veritaserum, Legilimency, or the Imperius, Ginny? And what if he puts the Cruciatus on you? When he did that with me, I wanted to die." She lowered her eyes, and they were silent. "Will you still like me?" The question brought him crashing down to earth again. "Of course," he said, his eyes widening. "Will you come back to me?" "That's why I'm doing this. To have somebody I can come back to." She seemed to think. "You have a year." "A year?" "Approximately." "Approximately?" Ginny started laughing. "Swallowed a parrot, have you?" Harry shook his head. When he had come down here, he had been too surprised about the whole thing to really think about what to expect. However, a deadline for getting rid of Voldemort had been as far from his mind as possible. Meanwhile, Ginny was shaking with laughter in his arms. "What?" he asked, hurt. "Youhouhou," she spluttered, "should see … the look … look on your fahace …" She was lost in giggles. Harry tried to look dignified, although he found her laughter infectious, even though the joke was on him. Ginny had buried her face into his chest and gradually calmed down. Finally, she looked up at him again. "In a year, I'll be seventeen," she said in a matter-of-fact kind of voice. "Nothing will stop me from going after you then." He looked back at her, and she could see his eyes darken. "Listen to me," she continued. "I understand that you can't tell, and I understand that you want me to be safe, but … I hate the idea of you being out there and thinking that you have to do everything alone. That's not true. You've been dealing with things on your own too bloody much in the past. But you have me, you have Ron and Hermione, and you have everybody else in the Order. Dumbledore is dead, and that means they're looking for a leader now." "I'm not Dumbledore, you know," he grumbled. "I do know, because I do not particularly fancy men with enormous white beards. But you're the kind of person people will follow." "Ginny, I don't want them to follow me." "I know that," she said, and her voice betrayed that she was nearing the end of her patience. "But even if it's something personal in the end, you don't have to go there alone. We're all in on this, and there's no way you can change that." He looked at her and knew that everything she said was true, but still … "That's one of my greatest fears." "What?" "Not being able to change things." The next thing she did took his breath away – she kicked him in the shins. Hard. "Oww! What was that for?" "That was for making me miserable for weeks. For coming back, sneaking into my room for obvious reasons, and then for daring not to listen to what I'm saying." "You know," he had let go of her to rub his bruised skin, "I did make you miserable, but it was your scheming that brought me here tonight for obvious reasons. And, in spite of those reasons, I've been listening to you for the whole time!" She smiled at him in a way McGonagall would have been proud of. "I didn't say you weren't able to change things. I said you can't. In fact, I think you're the most able wizard I know, but since you're not omnipotent there are certain things even you cannot change. So don't you get smart with me and tell me that you didn't want to be here." She shoved him, and he fell on her bed. "Now. For those obvious reasons." ~@~ Ginny Weasley was in a terrible mood. She was ready to scream … or to kill someone. Right at that moment, she did not particularly care what she did. This dress was … atrocious? Appalling? A case for the Wizards' Rights Watch? She sank down on her chair in despair. She was not a bridesmaid, so Fleur had not paid special attention to Ginny's dress. Her dress had been hand-selected … by her mother. And since Ginny herself had been depressed to no end, she had not been able to be interested in the dress she would be wearing in public. With hoards of France's most elegant girls on the scene. With Britain's most eligible bachelor on her arm – as long as he was not distracted by the offers that would undoubtedly be made to him. She was so dead. Or she would kill the offering … offending person, and the wedding would be ruined, so Fleur would kill her too. Oh, Merlin! The colour of the dress was a vacant beige. Her mother claimed that vibrant hair like Ginny's would be more of an effect with a low-key colour. The cut was … "classic," Mrs Weasley had insisted. Ginny, on the other hand, had classified it as "exanimate." She would attend the wedding in a dress that had gone out of fashion before Aunt Muriel had scared off her first suitor. It was at this unprecedented and unexpected low in Ginny's mood that the door opened and in swept a vision of perfection, who Ginny easily identified as her soon-to-be sister-in-law. Ginny had to admit grudgingly that Fleur never needed much time for her own preparations; unlike most women she did not draw satisfaction and self-esteem from the knowledge that she had done everything to be perfect, but from knowing for certain that she was perfect. And Ginny had to agree. Fleur looked magnificent. Now, she turned her large shining eyes on Ginny and shook her head disapprovingly. "Theez drezz eez a dizgrace." Ginny returned the gaze miserably. "You tell me." "I gather you've made some progrezz with 'Arry. But theez won't do. Not at all." Progress? Yes, they had made progress. But how would Fleur know? Had they been as obvious as Ron and Hermione? Oh, dear! Another reason to commit suicide. Without paying attention to Ginny's inner turmoil, Fleur had produced her wand and pointed it at Ginny. Murmuring something that did not really sound like French or Latin, but much more guttural, she performed a complicated pattern of swishes, after which she peered closely at her groom's sister, nodded in a satisfied manner and conjured a full length mirror. With a grand gesture, she bid Ginny to stand up and asked, "What do you think?" Ginny was proud to have overcome her former shyness and that she usually found something witty, or at least funny, to say at all times. Not now, though. The unspeakable … thing had been replaced with … a dress, a real outfit. Strangely enough, it was red, but of such a red that complimented Ginny's red hair and her freckles. Indeed, it did show her freckles. Quite a lot of them, actually. Not that it would come as a surprise to Harry. After last night he should have a fairly accurate idea of where she had freckles. Still, this was audacious. "So?" Fleur asked impatiently. "Wedding day or not, mum's going to bump you off." To Ginny's surprise Fleur started to laugh whole-heartedly. There was nothing artificial about it. In a way, Ginny thought, the wedding had worked wonders with Fleur. She was just radiant. "Thees ees Veela magic. It eez not meant for women, so women will not see eet. Unless, of course, they swing the ozzer way." Ginny looked at her perplexed, before understanding dawned on her, and she felt a blush rise to her face. "Your mother does not." Fleur seemed highly amused. "Now, wait a few minutes before you come downstairs, okay?" "Why?" Fleur's laugh nearly made the room ring with it. "Because eet ees my wedding day, and you look too spectacular. Have fun." And she was gone. This wedding was really working wonders, Ginny thought. ~@~ Harry Potter was in a strange mood. Not a bad one, though. Much better than he had had reason to hope for, actually. He turned back to look at the Burrow one last time … and at the little red-headed figure that stood before the house. He smiled. When he had come here, a few days ago, his life – everything really – had been a complete mess. Not any more, though. He had a goal, and he had someone to come back to, once it had been reached. That was her magic. Ginny had put things into perspective for him. He was not looking forward to the things he had to do. But now they were things that could be done, if it meant that he could be with her afterwards. There was hope now. He saw his two best friends holding hands and waiting for him ahead, so he hurried to catch up with them. Better get this over with soon. A year was not all that long. Wolf's Scream and harry_ginnyphile made an effort to improve my writing, and I'm glad they did. Thank you very much, indeed. ::draws his hat:: For a general disclaimer, please, look at my profile.) (B/N: I hope everyone has enjoyed Critmo's series as much as I've enjoyed betaing it for him! Seeing the reviews is always such positive feedback, and they have been terrific! It's been my pleasure to have such an integral role in such a terrific series. Here's to you, Critmo, for being such an excellent author to work with. h_g)
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