The Boy Who Loved

The Boy Who Loved

Chapter Two: The Burrow

After a deep breath, Harry cautiously pressed his finger into the doorbell of the Burrow (mounted smack-dab in the middle of the door - Mr. Weasley's idea, he guessed). As soon as he'd touched the ringer, a chorus of voices sang out his name in an incredible fortissimo, forming a dazzlingly perfect G₁₃ chord that would make a grown choir teacher weep.

Startled by the sudden response and perfect intonation, Harry dropped all of his things rather messily all over the doorstep. Within seconds, Fred threw open the door and George leapt out, crowing, "Ruckus Ringers, the newest Wizard Wheezes product! Took us forever to put all the charms on the things - we still haven't quite gotten it down, see? This one is still in tune." He shuddered. "That will have to change, obviously - but we can't seem to find any charms that create off-pitch voices - "

"Well, perhaps if you didn't have such an aversion to books, you wouldn't have that problem," came a voice from down the hall. Hermione appeared, grinning cheekily at the twins and sporting a few extra inches and a somewhat tamer hairstyle, which Harry completely and utterly failed to notice.

"Hello, Harry."

Harry, ears still ringing, managed a slight nod. He grabbed his trunk, broom, and Hedwig's cage, and wobbled through the doorway.

"Fred! George! How many times have I told you not to put that chord on those daft doorbells if you're not going to put a resolving chord after it?" Molly Weasley appeared in the entryway, an irritated frown on her face until she realized that Harry had arrived. As usual, the sight of her favorite world-saving teenager washed away any negative emotions and, pulling him into a bone-crushing hug, she gave him the usual interrogation about his trip on the Knight Bus and if he'd been washing behind his ears.

"Where's everybody else?" Harry inquired, puffing slightly due to oxygen deprivation.

"Ron and Ginny went off to play Quidditch," Hermione told him, rolling her eyes. "They said - " She broke off suddenly with a gasp, as she glanced over at the Weasley's magical clock. Harry followed her gaze, and was horrified to glimpse Ron's clock hand crawling from 'Home' to 'Mortal Peril'.

Mrs. Weasley let out an ear-splitting shriek and ran across the room to grab the clock, but as soon as she touched it, the script that read 'Mortal Peril' blinked and changed to 'Mortal Peril... Of Getting His Arse Kicked at Quidditch By His Own Baby Sister' and the twins burst into laughter. Once Mrs. Weasley had regained her wits enough to turn red and shout out punishments for the twins, though, their guffaws had diminished into weak chuckles and then faded out completely into horrified silence. However, before Mrs. Weasley could sentence them to domestic labor for the rest of their natural lives, Ron came storming in through the back door and stalked up the stairs, mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like, "got my arse kicked at Quidditch by my own baby sister". Moments later, Ginny entered with a smile so wide that Harry was immobilized with laughter for a full thirty seconds before he could grab hold of his luggage and take off up the stairs to assure Ron of his Quidditch prowess.

***

It was much later that day, when Ron and Harry were drawn downstairs by the irresistible aroma of lamp chops and apple pie, that Harry realized the house seemed a lot quieter than usual. Upon reaching the living room, he checked the Weasley clock to see where everyone had gone. His suspicions were correct: the hands belonging to Ron, Ginny, Fred, George, and Mrs. Weasley were all pointing to 'De-Gnoming', but the rest, with the exception of Percy's (which was noticeably absent) were pointing to 'None of Your Business,' so Harry guessed they were off doing business for the Order and decided not to ask.

The kitchen was bustling with energy despite the fact that Ron and Harry were the only mammals present. Pots and pans were fighting for room on the stove; a whisk was wobbling through the air; eggshells were hopping resignedly off the counter and into the compost bucket; and every so often the oven would let out a loud belching noise and an apple pie would come flying out and settle down, steaming, on the cooling rack. As Harry ducked a squadron of forks on their way to the dining room, the screen door leading out to the porch banged open and Mrs. Weasley came in, followed by three dirt-covered redheads. With a flick of her wand and a whispered Scourgify!, the three were sparkling clean, and, Harry swore, slightly less freckled than usual.

Dinner was, despite the missing family members, entertaining enough to almost entirely make up for a thoroughly boring summer. By the time Mrs. Weasley got up to cast the dishwashing spells, each of them had experienced several new hairstyles and the twins, giggling openly, had retired early to get their "beauty sleep". Ginny, whose desperate Finite Incantems would not undo her horrendous beehive, chased after them.

"It's just like the old times," he Ron sighed contentedly, leaning back in his chair, "the three of us together again..." Hermione nodded in agreement, patting her belly tiredly. Had Harry not been gazing blissfully away at the door into which Ginny had disappeared, he might have noticed that Ron's eyes hadn't left Hermione for the entire evening.

When he finally came to, blushing madly at the realization that he'd been daydreaming about his best friend's sister for more than fifteen minutes, Hermione and Ron were squinting concernedly at him.

"Harry, if you want to talk about it..." Hermione started, nervously.

"Huh?" Harry said immediately. Why would he want to talk about his crush on Ginny, especially in front of Ron?

"We know it must be tough, Harry, but you've got to talk about it otherwise you'll never... Harry? Harry?"

Harry, upon the realization that they thought he was mourning, lapsed into guilty giggles. "I wasn't... I mean, I miss Sirius, loads, sure... but I was just daydreaming, guys, I'm fine!" About your sister, no less. Harry dissolved into fresh chortles.

Ron stared at him suspiciously for a few seconds before announcing that he was going to head off for bed. Harry, between chuckles, gasped, "G'night, Ron, I'll be along in a few minutes" and put his head down on the table as he laughed and laughed and laughed.

***

He awoke, about an hour later, to the soft scent of jasmine as she leaned over him.

"Harry, wake up," she whispered, shaking him gently. "You need to get up to bed; it's nearly one o'clock!"

The sweet voice above him could only belong to Ginny, because she always used jasmine shampoo. He opened his eyes and stood up slowly, mind still thick from sleep. In the weak starlight - the moon was hiding behind the clouds -- he could see her silhouette a few feet away, folding up the tablecloth. He started over towards her, and touched her shoulder softly. "Hey," Harry said, quietly, and when she turned around he, not really thinking, pulled her towards him and planted a chaste kiss on her forehead.

She tilted her head up and her lips met his, and Harry was lost in their kiss, lost in the feeling that it couldn't get much better than this, and how lucky he was that this girl, this amazing girl, returned his affections. When it ended, he pulled her closer and she made a soft murmur as her hands came to rest on his shoulders and her head fit perfectly beneath his chin. I could stay like this forever, he thought, and stroked her hair tenderly.

Her hair...

It was...bushy.

"Hermione?" He gasped.

"What?" she responded, alarmed.

"I... I thought you were Ginny," he blurted, and she stiffened in his arms and looked up at him, hurt and confused. "I -- " he started again, but she was gone.

End of Chapter Two.