Seeking Ginny

Ginny spent the next few weeks getting used to being home. She realized that she hadn't actually lived at the Burrow since she was a young girl, what with attending Hogwarts during most of each year and the summers being so short. It was frightening how she managed to slip back into life so seamlessly. There were many things about home that Ginny found quite easy to take advantage of when she'd gone years without them. Asking her mother a question didn't require several days' wait for a reply anymore and if she felt like annoying a brother she could do it face to face rather than through the post. Her friendship with Sarah was just as effortless and close as it had been five years ago, though with a slightly different tone to it now that they were older and more mature. And living at home where she didn't really need to worry so much about cleaning a flat or washing the dishes (even though she did her fair share of the housework for her mother) was rather lovely.

It baffled Ginny that the time she spent in Paris seemed like years ago and life at the Burrow was so natural and easy. The things she'd learned, the person she'd become in Paris was still with her, but now she had that knowledge here... she was that person at home. It was a strange concept to her and made her think sometimes that she hadn't changed much at all.

Then there were those mornings when she woke up thinking she could hear Brian in the living room and was actually surprised when she opened her eyes to find herself in her old bedroom. There were the moments when she realized that it was Christian's night off and went to grab some parchment to send a quick owl to Aurelie, reminding her to turn off the burners on the cauldrons--only to realize that she didn't have to do that anymore; post to Aurelie was days away now. Those were the times when she felt a stab of loss that such a huge part of her life was over. She missed it, very much sometimes.

But she loved being home more. She loved waking up to the smells of breakfast every morning and padding downstairs to have coffee with her mother. She loved being in the middle of the family drama again and prying into her brothers' private lives, giving un-asked for advice. She loved greeting her father when he came home from work and hearing about the latest regurgitating toilet or whatever happened to be the most interesting Ministry tale of the day. She loved talking at the kitchen table with Ron and Hermione after dinner, then after Hermione trudged home, playing cards with Ron. She would never admit it, but she loved living with Ron, in a room right below him once again. She loved week-night dinners, mostly consisting of herself, her parents and Ron, occasionally another brother or Hermione, and on the days that Molly minded Julian, Charlie and Emma after work. And she loved weekends even more because it meant more people, more brothers, and more activity.

As the weeks passed, Ginny's life began to take shape and became suddenly so full that she found she wasn't as guilty as she thought she would be at not having started working yet. She spent most of her free time with Sarah, who seemed to have a great deal of freedom at her new job. They went into London, had dinner with both their families, and watched films on Mr. Murphy's television set. Ginny saw Brian mainly on weekends or evenings as he was forced to fit her into his work schedule, not to mention keeping up with his usual two to three dates per week. There were people from Hogwarts all over the place, shocked to see Ginny back and wanting to make plans to get together. She helped her mother with the housework, helped mind Julian (who didn't seem to be warming to Ginny at all for some reason) and spent lots of time reading about translator jobs that were available. She spent the little gold she had left from café wages sparingly and gratefully accepted the twins offer to mind the till at the shop in Hogsmeade a few afternoons out of the week.

Ginny had hung her black apron from the café on the hook of her closet door where both her Gryffindor tie and one of her Hogwarts robes hung for purely nostalgic reasons. Looking at them all together gave her a sense of accomplishment. It was as if she'd lived two lives already and the third was just starting. It was both thrilling and scary, especially since she was rather comfortable living in between.

The beginning of her fourth week at home, however, the pressure of not having a real job, or even being close to having a real job, began to sink in slightly. She received a short note from Brian asking if they could change their lunch arrangement to dinner because something came up and he had to work through his lunch hour. She wrote back in agreement and stuck her head in the fire to call on Sarah. But Sarah, it appeared, was also working, as Mrs. Murphy cheerfully informed Ginny from the Murphy's kitchen table, where she sat with her feet up reading a magazine and chewing gum.

Ginny emerged from the fireplace smiling slightly at the differences between her own mother and Sarah's. But her smile evaporated as she stood in the middle of her own empty kitchen. Her mum was out with Julian, all of her brothers were working, it wasn't her day at the Hogsmeade shop, and her friends had their own jobs. It was then that Ginny realized that she was only person in her family (besides her mum and Julian) who didn't have a proper job. She didn't see that her mother counted since she had plenty of jobs to be going on with and Julian, well, being five and all that.

As she thought about it, she came to the conclusion that she wasn't as upset with not having a proper job as she was with the fact that she didn't know what sort of thing she wanted to do. She knew that she didn't want any of the jobs that Brian and Bill and her dad had told her about. She felt as though she was being too selective, that she was looking for something that didn't exist.

"A job's a job, Ginny," Ron had told her matter-of-factly the other night when she'd declined Bill's offer to get her an interview for a Gringotts translator position. "You're not going to like it, nobody likes their job."

"Not true," Hermione had broken in.

"Nobody normal," Ron had corrected.

"If you are doing something you enjoy, then--"

"Who enjoys working?"

This had lead to a debate in which Ginny wholeheartedly agreed with Hermione--and Ron's comment hadn't really bothered her then. But now, she was starting to wonder if she was being too picky. Was there a job out there that she could have fun doing or was that only possible when you were a waitress with your friends and not making a career out of it? Was it only possible for studious people like Hermione to love their careers?

She brought this up to her mother when she arrived home, groceries and a bouncing Julian in tow. Molly made a rather surprising comment as they began putting the food away.

"Ginny, you've been working non-stop for five years, at University and your café."

Julian's 'whoosh, whoosh!' noises could be heard from the garden as he zoomed around on a toy broomstick.

Molly continued. "There's no harm in taking some time off to try and work out what it is that you want to do."

This statement helped punctuate Brian's later declaration when she met him for dinner that night. "Gin, you'll know it when you see it--that's how you work--" he took a long sip of his drink--"so just shut up, keep looking, and relax until then, will you?"

So she forced herself to relax about it all, though the little guilt of still living at home, taking a charity job from the twins, and not doing anything productive was still there. But after some thought, Ginny reasoned that because she'd been so busy in Paris, completing her degree, working every spare hour to pay for university and the flat's monthly rent, it was quite a change not to have something to work for all of a sudden. She felt she was? in the middle of a long journey and she had suddenly reached a resting point--it was okay to stop and take a take a break for a while, but deep inside, she knew that at any moment the urge to start up again would come.

"I completely understand how you feel, Ginny," Sarah told her feelingly, her wide, blue-gray eyes filled with sympathy. "I don't know what I would do if I was in your position, not knowing what you wanted to do and where you're going to be in five years. If it were me, I would be panicking."

Ginny couldn't help but smile at Sarah's less-than comforting words which, oddly enough, made Ginny feel more reassured than her mother's or Brian's advice. The two of them were sitting at Sarah's kitchen table one sunny afternoon, eating Mrs. Murphy's homemade trifle. The first bite made Ginny close her eyes and forget she had job troubles at all.

"How did I survive five years without this?" she muttered, as if in a trance and carefully spooned some more before lifting it slowly to her lips.

Sarah giggled. "You look like you're a adverts actress."

"You mean like on the television?" Ginny asked, savoring the pudding.

"Yeah... and you didn't go five years without it--I remember Mum made it for you one time when you came home for a visit... can't remember when...."

"It must have been years... but anyway, I'm glad you see it my way, Sarah. Brian was yelling at me a bit for worrying and Mum was trying to tell me to just relax and take my time, and I'm going to, but I do feel nervous about it. Like I shouldn't be doing nothing, you know?"

"You're working at the joke shop, though, aren't you? That's something."

"Yeah, I suppose."

"Incidentally, I was going to ask you to ask Fred and George if they need any more help at one of the locations."

"Why?" Ginny grinned. "You want to try your hand at mixing Canary Creams?"

"No," Sarah laughed, "it's for Rosemary."

Ginny had a mental picture of a plump girl of about eight years old with thick glasses and two long brown braids. "Your cousin? Isn't she a little young for a job?"

Sarah smiled. "Not really. She's been out of Hogwarts for a year now and my aunt and uncle are ready to chuck her out - all she does is sit around and read all day, shows no signs of getting a job or anything. They want her to learn responsibility."

Ginny wrinkled her nose. "I dunno how she'll learn responsibility working for Fred and George, but I'll ask them. George was saying that Hogsmeade weekends are the busiest times, even busier than summer and with Hogwarts starting up again next month and everything, they will probably need more help."

"That would be really great," Sarah said. "Especially if she can work when you're there- you can talk to her about university and all that."

"I'm hardly the role model," Ginny laughed. "I don't know what to do for my own life!"

Sarah shook her head and stood to bring her bowl to the sink. "That's where you're wrong. You've worked really hard, Ginny. You don't give yourself enough credit."

Ginny looked down at her plate, feeling slightly humbled by Sarah's nonchalant words. It was startling that she, Ginny, could possibly be a role model for anyone.

Setting her spoon down, Ginny pushed back from the table. "I've got to be off--George wanted me to help him stock shelves today."

"Oh--wait, you have to give something to Fred for me," Sarah said, hurrying out of the room and dashing up the living room stairs. Ginny had a brief second to wonder what in the world Sarah had for Fred when pounding footsteps sounded on the stairs and Sarah returned with a glass jar in her hand.

"What is this?" Ginny asked curiously, taking the jar and peering at what seemed to be a sort of cream inside it.

"It's hand lotion. Fred needs to give it that to Angelina Johnson."

"Angelina?"

"Yeah," Sarah sighed. "Mum's good friends with Mrs. Johnson, you know, and she gave some to her and Mrs. Johnson loves it and now Angelina wants a jar. Apparently she really loves it too," Sarah shrugged.

"Where did you get it?" Ginny asked turning the jar over in her hand. It didn't look like the sort of packaging that hand lotion came in--it appeared to be an old marmalade jar.

"I made it," Sarah said.

"Made it?" Ginny asked in surprise looking up at her friend. "You made this?"

"Yes... d'you want some? It's rather nice."

Ginny barely had time to answer before Sarah was dashing up the stairs again and returning with yet another jar, this one containing a pickle label. "Here. You should have your mum try it, it's great for dry hands."

"Hmm," Ginny said, opening the jar and holding it up to her nose. A pleasant, rather clean scent filled her nostrils. "That's a great smell what is it?"

"Erm... in that one, it's... " Sarah took the bottle and held it up to her nose. "Ah, eucalyptus."

"Isn't that a tree?" Ginny asked.

Sarah smiled. "Yes, but I've used the oils from the leaves and combined them with natural oils from Mum's Sprouting Herb Tree and a few simple fragrance charms for a clean, soap-like scent."

Ginny stared at Sarah as if natural oils from the Sprouting Herb Tree were spilling from her nose. It was true that Sarah had been very gifted at Herbology in school ... but she'd never showed any real interest in it outside of their lessons, and though she'd always gardened in her spare time, Ginny always assumed it was more of a chore that her mother made her do. Ginny knew for certain that Sarah had never mentioned the desire to create hand lotion from trees.

"They also contain drops of Ylang Ylang--that's a botanical oil that aids in relieving stress and fears, so it will help you deal with your job troubles," Sarah said brightly.

"Wow, that's... really cool." She opened the jar to smell the one for Angelina and recognized the scent of Lavender. "I didn't know you liked to do this sort of thing."

"It's strange really, how it happened, I just got the idea one day to make it--there's a lot of natural ingredients in hand lotions, and I thought of combining magical ones with them to see what happened and... well, the result is really nice." She hesitated. "D'you have to be at the joke shop right away? There's something that I want to show you."

Ginny was so surprised by this new side of Sarah and rather intrigued at the sudden sparkle that had jumped into her friend's eyes that she didn't care about being late; George wouldn't mind. She followed Sarah up the living room staircase onto the second landing and watched as her friend climbed clumsily onto a chair, almost loosing her balance, but steadying herself enough to reach up to the ceiling and pull down the hatch. A ladder came sliding out and Sarah had to duck so that it didn't hit her.

Ginny realized she that her fingernails were digging in her cheeks from watching Sarah be so reckless--she had never been graceful by any means and used to fall down a staircase at Hogwarts at least once a week.

But Sarah managed to climb down, legs shaking, without any injury and pull the ladder all the way down. "We have to go in the attic," she explained, breathlessly, wiping her fringe out of her eyes. "That's where my lab is."

"Lab!" Ginny said, startled. "Sarah, are you living a double identity?"

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Shall we?"

"I suppose," Ginny said, then cringed as Sarah started to climb the ladder unsteadily, occasionally missing a rung. Ginny then followed her up into the attic and, with slight difficulty herself, pushed herself to her feet, straightened up and dusted off her jeans. Her mouth dropped open.

She'd been in Sarah's attic once before and that had been for a slumber party during a summer. It had looked just like a normal attic--cluttered and messy but with enough room for five girls to camp out on the floor in sleeping bags. But now, it was completely transformed into... a huge mess. There were cauldrons stacked everywhere, some on burners, one was emitting purple smoke and Ginny wondered if that was the cause of the room smelling like a flower shop. Or perhaps it was the table full of dead flowers in the corner...or the one piled with bottles of perfume. There were more tables, all pressed up against each other, positively covered with jars and buckets and bottles in all sizes from tall and thin to short and round, from empty to full, from colorful liquids to thick, paste-like substances. Shelves were stacked with huge arrays of potion ingredients and spices, all crammed haphazardly and piled on top of one another, looking like they might topple over any second. Books were stacked on every piece of empty floor and plants of all kinds were sprouting from pots, hanging from the ceiling and... wrapping around her ankle.

Ginny yelped and reached down to yank the wandering branch off her leg, skipping sideways to avoid a nasty snap of the twig. Glaring at it, she restrained herself from kicking the pot where it grew.

"Sarah," Ginny said weakly. "Do your mum and dad know about this?"

"What... my lab?" Sarah asked in surprise, looking around as if it was nothing more than a place of business. "Of course they do."

"And your dad... he's okay with you turning the attic into... into... a lab?" For lack of a better word, Ginny thought.

Sarah sighed. "Well, he was a bit cross about the plant thing, but he is a Muggle, you know, and so I explained to him that certain magical plants don't die if they're deprived of sunlight, they just get really, really angry and that can cause rare, but very useful, things to occur. Take that Razor-Toothed Claw Blossom over there--don't look at it directly, Ginny, it hates that. But, when you don't give it proper sunlight, it gets so angry that it begins to spit a venom that actually works wonders on a dandruffed scalp...."

By the time Ginny had left Sarah's lab, her head was swimming from the strong fragrances that had seeped into her nose, and her brain was trying to process the fact that Sarah was currently creating her own line of beauty products. It was so completely out of character that Ginny barely said goodbye to her, clutching the two jars of lotion, as she climbed onto the bright red Muggle bicycle parked outside Sarah's house.

"Don't forget to give that to Fred," Sarah called.

"I won't," Ginny said, putting the jars in the basket and tapping her wand to the handle of the bike. It rose into the air and, after another tap, disappeared.

Sarah grinned and waved. "See you tomorrow, Miss. Gulch."

Ginny was not about to ponder the new nickname Sarah had given her since she'd seen Ginny's bicycle, the coming-home gift her father had worked so hard on. Something to do with a Muggle film, Sarah had told her, but Ginny was too preoccupied just then with Sarah's little inventions that she couldn't think about much else. As she rode home, she couldn't help but smile at the thought of Sarah in the attic, brewing hair potions and hand lotions and Merlin knew what else.

It was a short ride back to the Burrow but Ginny wished it were longer. Though she hadn't thought so at first, the bicycle from her father had been a perfect gift. As the days at home began to pass, she found that she didn't get as much exercise here as she had in Paris. Nobody walked here, it was all about Floo or Apparition and though she, like everyone else, found it so much more convenient than having restrictions on Apparition distances, Ginny missed her walks to work and l'Academie. Riding her bike gave her that peaceful thought time and was actually so much more refreshing, with the wind blowing in her face and all that.

She arrived home and threw the bike down in the garden, racing into the house to the fireplace. She managed to communicate to her mother that she was late for the joke shop before flinging herself into the kitchen fire and emerging in the Hogsmeade location of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes.

"You're late," George said crisply, yanking her out of the fireplace. "And why don't you ever Apparate?"

"I'm not used to it," she said trying to climb out of the fire as he man-handled her. She tried to shove him away but he dragged her by the arm and hurled her towards the till.

"He was next." He pointed to a boy of about twelve at the front of a very long line. It was then that Ginny noticed the place was packed with customers, mostly young boys. She looked around and saw that Fred was nowhere to be found, nor were any of the summer employees and a group of angry looking girls stood at the front doors, obviously waiting for their male friends to complete their purchases. Ginny suddenly felt guilty for being so late.

It was nearly three hours before the crowd cleared off, but it felt like three minutes. By the end of it, though, Ginny was hoarse from talking to the customers who had questions on products and her head was beginning to pound slightly. She rubbed her temples as the bells on George's till rang and he handed the change to the only customer left in the shop.

"I'm sorry," she said to him when he was finally free. "I didn't think it would be so busy. I was at Sarah's."

"Sarah's too wild, Ginny, she's a bad influence on you."

Ginny smiled weakly and sank down onto a stool. "That's what Mum used to say about you and Fred. Didn't you say that you had a Hogwarts student working summer afternoons?"

"Evenings. Bloody idiot if you ask me, though, can't even tell the difference between a sherbet lemon and a Canary Cream--everyone knows what Canary Creams look like, that's why we have to redesign them every six months. What's this?" George asked, lifting the marmalade jar with Sarah's hand cream in it.

"Oh. We have to give that to Fred to give to Angelina. Sarah made it."

George nodded and handed the jar back to Ginny, who had just thought of something. "Hey, whatever did happen with Fred and Angelina, then? It was my... third year I think when they broke up and nobody ever wrote to me to tell me what happened."

"Wonder why... perhaps it was none of your business?"

"Seriously. What happened?"

"Seriously. What happened?" George mimicked her.

"George, come on, we're both adults, you can tell me--"

"George come on, we're both adults--"

"Oh, you are so annoying."

"Oh, you are so--"

Ginny groaned loudly, drowning him out, and hopped off her stool. "I guess we're not both adults, how could I have been so stupid to think so?"

"I raised you, young lady!" George's mock voice trailed off as Ginny closed the back room door behind her and went to a cupboard where she knew they kept butterbeer. She made sure to double check for "special" ingredients with a careful spell before tipping the bottle back and taking a huge sip. She sighed afterwards and looked at the bottle appreciatively. It hadn't taken her long to get used to British butterbeer again. Indeed everything at home was ten times better than the French version. Except for the cafés, she thought with a grin and emerged from the room into the shop.

She continued to try to get George to talk about the now intriguing breakup of Angelina and Fred as they both stocked the shelves with more product. Ginny kneeled at the 'Be a Bird Barrel,' refilling it with loose Peacock Tarts, Canary Creams, Owl Eats and Parrott Pills from huge boxes of each sweet surrounding her. George stood in a corner and levitated boxes and boxes of Levitating Sugar Quills to an extremely high shelf, being completely silent as though Ginny were merely talking to herself.

"I mean the only thing I can't work out is if Mum was right in guessing that Angelina had broke it off back then. That's what Mum told me in secret, anyway. I suppose she probably had her reasons for it, but I just never did see Angelina as being the one to break it off. Unless Fred did something unforgivable which wouldn't surprise me at all. But she's always sort of understood his... faults. She actually used to say it was one of the reason she liked him so much. But then again, Fred--"

"Fred what?"

They both looked to see Fred himself walking through the door, accompanied by an elephant's roar and a trailing Ron. George shot Ginny an extremely subtle look as he passed her but the message was clear. Shut it.

"Nothing, I was just talking about what a great ugly prat you are," Ginny told Fred.

"Thanks," he said cheerily. "You're fired."

"Yes, well, about that thing that blares whenever someone walks through the door. It's a bit annoying, Fred, and the customers think so, too. I mean an elephant's roar every time the bloody door opens? Come on, now."

"It's all about marketing, Gin," said Fred with a huge wink. "Advertising the next product."

"Something to do with elephants, oh, I can hardly wait. Are you running out of ideas lately because I can certainly do better than elephants, I'll have you know."

"You've lost your touch, ever since you went all French on us. I don't even think I trust you with our secrets anymore," Fred told her.

Despite the fact that she knew he was joking, and that he knew just the thing to say to get a rise out of her, Ginny felt a stab of the old defensiveness. Flashing back to all the times she'd vowed to prove herself when they wouldn't let her be a part of their team, she stuck out her bottom lip and said, "I have not lost my touch."

"Pouting, as usual," said George.

"You are both idiots, you know that?" But Fred and George weren't paying much attention to her; they both became preoccupied with the contents of the brown paper bag that Fred had brought in. Ginny looked to Ron. "What time are we meeting for dinner tonight?"

There was a chorus of whoa's from both Fred and George. "Trying to make us jealous, isn't she?"

"Seven. Across the street," Ron said.

Ginny's eyes lit up. "The Three Broomsticks?" She clasped her hands happily and Ron rolled his eyes.

Since she'd arrived home, Ginny had frequented The Three Broomsticks as often as she possibly could. She couldn't help it--she loved it in there. It reminded her of Hogwarts and she always saw somebody from school to catch up with. She'd talked for hours with Madam Rosmerta about Le Papillon and some of the drink recipes (not Christian's secret ones) that had been huge sellers. It seemed that Ginny had become rather attached to the place during her childhood and since she'd been deprived of it for the past five years, she felt completely justified in dragging people there at least twice a week.

"Yeah," said Ron. "But don't thank me, Hermione was the one who insisted. Bottomless Goblet was my choice after a long, hard day at work." This was emphasized with a yawn and a stretch.

"Bottomless Goblet," Ginny said. "That's all everyone can talk about. What's so special about it, anyway?"

"They have twelve kinds of Fire Whisky," George said getting a dreamy look in his eyes. "Dragon's Breath. Intimate Inferno. Imploding Acrtic."

"Imploding Acrtic is a bloody masterpiece," Fred said.

Ginny wrinkled her nose. "I'll stick to my butterbeer, thank you." She looked at her watch. "Well, it seems my shift is over."

"You were three hours late," George exclaimed. "What the bugger are we paying you for?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "My lovely wit with the customers. And it wasn't three hours, it was an hour, if that. I have to get ready for my dinner party now."

"Dinner party... with this idiot and his wife."

"Not wife yet," Ron muttered, going red.

George snorted. "I have news for you Ronniekins, Hermione's been your wife since your first year at Hogwarts."

Ginny got out before it became ugly.

~*~

She dressed selectively, making herself pretty, thinking that she may run into someone that she hadn't seen in a while, as was usually the case when she went into Hogsmeade. She let her hair frame her face and chose a yellow sweater with a scooped neckline. Since she didn't want to get dust on her clothes, she decided to Apparate, though she wasn't too fond of it. It was rather silly, but she associated Apparating with two-day journeys in crowded stations.

She Apparated outside The Three Broomsticks with a few minutes to spare and when she stepped inside, the atmosphere of the pub was unusually lazy. There were a few tables occupied by families, but the place wasn't bouncing like it would have been on a weekend. Among the few couples sitting at scattered tables, Ginny spotted the one she was looking for and she stood out of the way as a barmaid carrying a huge tray came through. Her became misty, the nostalgic feelings of waitressing washing over her. She made it to the tall, round table where Hermione and Ron were sitting and slid into the seat next to Hermione.

"Hello," she said cheerfully, sliding into the seat next to Hermione. She fingered the lab coat that was swung over the back of Hermione's stool. "Have you just come from work?"

Hermione heaved a sigh. "Oh, not really; things were so hectic after my shift, I didn't have time to go home and change my clothes and before I knew it, it was time to meet Ron."

"Oh, well, don't feel bad--at least you didn't have to leave a job at the joke shop to come here," Ginny said, rolling her eyes. "So tell me, what's it like working at a job where you don't have to stock Peacock-bloody-Tarts?"

Hermione grinned. "Actually, it's been so interesting, lately..." She hesitated. "I don't want to bore you with the details--"

"Not at all, I'd love to hear what you're working on," Ginny exclaimed and ignored Ron's playful inquiry whether she knew what she was getting into by saying that. Hermione, also ignoring Ron's comment, launched into an explanation of the sort of things she was working on. Hermione worked for St. Mungo's researching laboratory where she had recently begun several projects by combining magical ingredients for Muggle medicines.

It was nearly ten minutes later that Ginny was beginning to regret showing such avid interest in Hermione's job, since Hermione had barely taken a breath to stop talking about it and every time Ginny had a question, she had to hold it, lest she rudely interrupt her. Thankfully, Madam Rosmerta slipped up to the table just in time and sent them all a wink.

"What can I get for you, children?"

"Heavens," Hermione said, startled, looking at her watch. "He's late isn't he?"

"Yes," Ron said slowly, looking at Hermione peculiarly. "Surprised, are you?"

"Well, it's just--"

"What are you talking about?" Ginny asked.

"Harry," Ron said.

"Harry's coming?" Ginny asked in surprise.

"Supposedly," Hermione said, frowning.

"We're going to wait," Ron told Rosmerta, who nodded and sauntered off.

"We wanted to talk to both of you about the wedding," Hermione said, glancing at her watch again.

"He should be here any minute, he's coming from work," Ron said. "So anyway, no more work talk at dinner--it's rude for the lower people who don't understand."

"Fine by me--I have no job talk," Ginny said, sighing. "Not that it matters, I've discovered I'm quite good at being unemployed."

"And no talking about not having a job," Ron said.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "That's fine, you go ahead and keep the conversation going, then."

"Cool. The Cannons."

"No Quidditch talk at dinner," Hermione cut in. "It's rude for the people who don't follow it."

Ginny laughed. "But I wouldn't mind that, actually. I mean, er, my sister doesn't want to talk about Quidditch, so I don't either," she declared, when Hermione sent her a look.

"Thank goodness you're back, Ginny," Hermione sighed. "If I had to go through this wedding without any female companionship, I would be going mad, I swear it."

"Well, I'm here, so you don't have to worry," she patted Hermione's shoulder. "We shall choose between daisies and roses together!"

"Hi," said a fourth voice and they all looked up to see that Harry had arrived. He shrugged out of his pitch black business robe, revealing a crisp white shirt and navy blue tie. As he settled himself on the stool, he loosened the tie, looking from Ron to Hermione to Ginny. "Sorry."

"Where were you?" Hermione asked quietly.

Harry paused while yanking at his tie and turned his head towards Hermione.

"Where do you think he was, Hermione?" Ron answered impatiently. "Anyway, it's a good thing you showed up when you did, mate, they were just starting to gang up on me. I was out numbered."

"You want to talk about being out numbered!" Ginny exclaimed, passing a menu to Harry. "Story of my life, that is. I can literally use that to title my auto-biography. Ginny Weasley, Out Numbered Since Birth."

They all laughed.

"Are you writing an auto-biography?" Hermione asked brightly.

Ginny nearly choked. "Goodness no! It would have about three chapters in it."

"Are you mad?" Hermione exclaimed. "You've done all sorts of fascinating things--going to University in Paris--"

"That's not fascinating, believe me. So, anyway, you wanted to talk to us about the wedding?"

"Oh. Yes." She straightened in her chair. "So--"

"Well, it's about time, we were about ready to give up on you," said a saucy female voice. Rosmerta had appeared, slapping Harry playfully on the shoulder. "Ready to order yet?"

Hermione opened her menu, looking a bit hassled that she'd been interrupted and everyone else followed suit, besides Harry, who had been rather engrossed in reading the menu since Ginny has passed it to him.

"I think I'll just have the soup," Hermione said, passing the menu to Rosmerta.

"Me too," said Harry. "And a steak."

Ginny smiled at that. "The soup as well, for me and a fruit plate."

Rosmerta looked to Ron, who rolled up his sleeves and began rattling off what he wanted. While he was talking, Ginny saw Hermione look justifiably appalled at the quantity of Ron's order, and even Harry glanced at Ron peculiarly when he spoke about the amount of cheese he wanted on his potatoes to resemble a river.

"All right," Rosmerta said after having to stop and write down Ron's specific instructions; Rosmerta was so good at her job, she could usually remember an order with no notes at all. "Is that all, then?"

"That'll be all," Ginny said. Rosmerta left and Ginny looked at Ron with a completely baffled _expression.

"D'you think you might have ordered enough, Ron?"

"I haven't eaten since lunch, Ginny," he said meaningfully and Ginny shook her head in confusion.

"Neither have any of us, and we didn't order half the menu."

"Excuse me if I don't order a bloody fruit plate and call it a meal."

"Stop fighting, please, we have a lot to talk about here," Hermione said, heaving a sigh.

"We do?" Harry asked, speaking to the group for the first time since he'd apologized for being late.

"Yes, we do," Hermione said, looking at him. "I was telling Ginny before you arrived--" Hermione stressed the last few words--"that we wanted to talk to you both about the wedding."

Harry had lifted a brow at Hermione's rather blatant reiteration that he'd been late and continued to say nothing.

"So, just go ahead, then Hermione. Sorry we got off track," Ginny said.

"That's alright," Hermione said, taking a deep breath. "So, to start--"

"I forgot to get your drink order," Rosmerta said cheerily, appearing again.

Hermione practically deflated in front of them.

"You know what, Rosmerta?" Ginny asked, noticing that Hermione seemed to be getting more disappointed by the minute. "I am going to break my no-drinking rule in honor of my brother and Hermione's new engagement."

"Congratulations," Rosmerta said, her eyes lighting up.

"Thank you," said Ginny before Hermione or Ron could say anything. "Now, if you please, Rosmerta, a bottle of champagne?"

"I'd like a Tom Collins," Harry said quickly.

"Yeah, make that two," Ron said.

"A Pimms for me," said Hermione.

"Wait!" cried Ginny, but Rosmerta had walked off.

"Whole bottles of champagne, Ginny?" Ron asked before she could say anything. "I guess you really did turn French in Paris."

"It was supposed to be--"

"I mean, really, I know we used to tease you about the no-drinking thing, but this is ridiculous."

"Shut up, Ron--"

"Don't worry, there might be a program you can join, you know, that will help you become... well, less French."

Ginny normally didn't let Ron's joking get to her. But the fact was that Hermione looked like her head was about to explode from being interrupted so much and Ginny just didn't find the matter funny at all, no matter how dedicated Ron was to the joke or how much Harry looked like he wanted to laugh. However, Ginny was then lead against her better judgment when Rosmerta arrived with their drinks. She passed Ron, Hermione, and Harry their drinks, then planted the bottle of champagne right in front of Ginny before walking off.

They all looked at the bottle and for a moment, nobody said anything. Then Hermione let out a little giggle and Ron's eyes lit up so that it was apparent how many jokes were running through his head. It didn't take long for a grin to tug at Harry's mouth and Ron to make a comment about Ginny not even needing a glass before they all, including Ginny, burst into laughter.

Rosmerta, it turned out, was in the process of bringing more champagne glasses and poured out the champagne for everyone and joined them on toasting the engagement.

"So, now... the floor is yours, Hermione," Ginny declared after Rosmerta has left.

"Okay, first off, there's something we need to ask you both," Hermione looked at Ron, who looked back at her with a raised brow.

"Up to you, this, I was the one who made the announcement. And you might want to wait until Ginny's sober so she'll remember what she answered."

"I've had two sips, Ron, two sips--"

"Oh, shut up," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "My goodness, you make it very hard to have a meaningful moment that we'll remember for the rest of our lives."

"Ginny's lucky if she remembers where she fell asleep the night before," Ron said. Harry laughed.

"You--" Ginny began, but Hermione cut her off.

"As you both know, Harry and Ginny," Hermione said loudly. Harry stopped smiling and pretended to look interested. "Besides being family, you both are closer to us than anybody," Hermione was speaking very crisply as if she was teaching a lesson. "There is nobody we'd rather have next to us at the wedding than you two. So, Ginny, will you be my matron of honor, and Harry, will you be Ron's best man?"

Ginny's cheeks hurt. She realized it was because she was smiling so big. She swallowed hard against a sudden lump in her throat and cried, "Of course, I will, Hermione!" Then she stood up and the two of them hugged. Ron and Harry sat watching them.

"Bloody mad," Ron muttered.

"Well?" Hermione asked, looking at Harry. "I didn't hear an answer."

"Of course I will," Harry said, grinning uncomfortably. "Did you think I'd say no?"

Hermione looked at him. "No," she said, smiling. "I didn't." And before anyone knew it, she'd grabbed Harry by the collar and pulled him to his feet to properly hug him.

After the hugging was over, after another glass of champagne, they talked about the wedding. Or, rather, they listened to Hermione talk about the wedding, each trying to get a word in here and there.

"I mean, mum said I'm mad, but I think we can pull it off in a year, you know? There is a lot to do, but if Ron and I spend virtually all of our free time on it, it can be done. And with your help," she looked to Ginny and Harry. "And of course, your mum said she would do all that she could, as did my parents. But it is going to be a lot more work if--well," she broke off, looking at Ron nervously. "I haven't exactly told you this yet, but I have a bit of an idea. Your mum thinks it's a fantastic idea. But of course, if you don't agree, then we can decide on something else, I'm completely open to any ideas you have--"

"Hermione," Ron drawled. "What's the idea?"

"Well," she smiled at him brightly. A little overly bright, if you asked Ginny. "I was thinking that the perfect place to have the wedding... well... would be the Burrow."

"What?!" both Ron and Ginny cried together.

"Now wait just a minute, before you say anything, I'm not talking about inside the house, I'm talking about outside, in the garden."

"Outside," Ginny said uncertainly. "Hermione, there's always the chance of rain."

"Yes, but there will be an amazing, beautiful tent." Hermione looked from Ron to Ginny to Harry with an excited gleam in her eyes.

"You mean like... a camping tent?" Ron asked, dubiously.

"No, no, no," Hermione said impatiently. "It'll be outdoors, but covered in case of the rain with a very pretty sheer, sparkly cover, almost like a canopy. And we'll put some anti-water spells all around so there are no mishaps. And the entire garden will be covered with fairy lights and candles and flowers. And the dancing floor will be made of a shimmery glass--"

"What if it breaks?" Ron asked. "Ginny will probably be pissed and fall a few times--"

"Shut up," Ginny commanded. A smile had begun to form on her lips. Suddenly, she could picture it... her over-grown, gnome-infested garden completely transformed into exactly what Hermione was saying. And what was more, was the memories of all the summers spent in the garden with both Ron and Hermione. Seeing them get married there would be... well... sort of perfect.

And that's what Ginny said. "I think it's perfect."

Hermione's smile looked like it would crack her face. "Really?"

"Really," Ginny said. "Yes, Ron, I'm being serious. Just trust us, will you?"

Ron looked at Harry, who didn't seem to be concerned much.

"Really?" Ron asked.

"Really," said Ginny and Hermione together.

"Well..."Ron said, looking to Harry for advice. But Harry's attention had been turned to the large, potted plant that was stationed next to him. "I suppose it would be nice not to have to go out for the thing. I mean... all I have to do is... wake up and go outside, right?"

"Well, you'd have to change your clothes. And perhaps shower," Ginny said. "Do you think you can handle that?"

Ron looked like he might respond, but Hermione saved Ginny from whatever pissed comment he had for her this time.

"Anyway," she cut in. "I've had some more ideas." She cast her eyes rather nervously in Ron's direction again and Ginny could tell that Hermione was trying very hard not to take complete control and leave Ron out of the decision making. But it was obvious to Ginny who was going to be running this show.

As Hermione explained in great detail her many ideas about the big day, Ron began to look more and more alarmed. It was clear that he didn't have the first clue about planning a wedding and Ginny wondered where even Hermione had learned it all. Probably from books, Ginny was willing to bet, because some of the things Hermione was bringing up were things that Ginny's romantic mind had never even thought about when she used to daydream about her own wedding.

Smiling a little, and remembering those days, she sneaked a look at Harry. Just the sight of him made her smile want to grow bigger, but she bit her lip and refrained from ginning. Harry had never looked more unaware of what was going on around him, than right now. He sat there making a dull sport out of tapping his fingers on the table, only stopping to lift his goblet and take a sip. Once again he gave the image of being completely alone, though there were three people sitting at the same table as him, and it was then that Ginny noticed that, along with the three people surrounding him, there were also three empty goblets pushed off to the side, clearly having been his.

"So will you help me on that, Ginny?" Hermione continued. "Merlin knows Harry won't have the time, all the hours he puts in at work."

Harry glanced up at the sound of his name, as if he was in class and a professor had called on him while he'd been daydreaming.

"Oh... sure, I will," Ginny said, having no idea what she was agreeing to.

"Why would you want Harry help to pick out wedding flowers?" Ron questioned, rather loudly. His hair was standing up a bit from running his hand through it several times while Hermione talked. "He doesn't know anything about flowers."

Hermione sighed. "I don't know, Ron, just to have another opinion, I suppose."

"Well, picking out flowers is something I would like to help you with, Hermione. I love flowers, so it will be fun." Ginny said, trying not to laugh at the thought of Harry choosing between daisies and daffodils.

"I don't know about you lot, but I'm knackered," said Ron, yawning loudly. Ginny glanced at Hermione and saw that she looked quite disappointed that Ron had decided to end the evening just as they were getting into talking about the wedding. Ginny felt rather guilty herself for feeling slightly relieved, but the truth was, as much as she'd love to talk about it with Hermione, there didn't seem to be much room to say anything at all.

"Bloody hell, Harry." Ron had caught notice of Harry's empty drinks. "How many did you have?"

"Hmm?" Harry looked up, and Ginny could see that his eyes were indeed slightly glazed. He didn't look pissed, though, just completely exhausted. "I have nowhere to go besides bed, Hermione," he said, with a slight smile, catching Hermione's sudden concerned and rather stern _expression.

"Yes, well... still, Harry."

"I am a bit tired, as well," Ginny said, standing up and taking her light summer cloak from the back of the chair.

Hermione looked torn between disappointment that she couldn't finish her wedding talk and urge to still dwell on Harry's drink count. "Well, I suppose we can finish our talk later. It is rather late, isn't it?"

Ginny nodded, noting that it was nearing eleven - not very late in her book, but she didn't have anywhere to be in the morning. A little voice in her head reminded her that she would be starting to close the café if she were still living in Paris. She swung her cloak over her shoulders, not planning on putting her arms through since she would be Apparating the minute she walked out outside, anyway.

"Shall we walk outside together before Apparating, then?" she asked.

She didn't get an answer right away. Ron had paused and was watching Harry from the corner of his eye. Harry, who hadn't made a move to get up at all, sat with his shoulders rather slumped, gazing at the table.

"I'm... going to stay for a bit," Harry said, once it occurred to him that Ginny had addressed the entire group.

Hermione hesitated, looking as though she wanted to say something more, but a small shake of the head from Ron stopped her.

"Suppose you're right, mate," Ron said, settling back in his chair, and reaching for the bottle of champagne. "We really should finish the bottle."

Ginny saw Harry lift his eyes to look at Ron, and knew that he was about to say something, when Hermione spoke.

"All right then--Ginny, why don't we have a walk--I'd like to hear your ideas on the sort of robes you'd like for the wedding..."

Ginny smiled, suddenly very clear on why Hermione wasn't making more of a fuss that Harry and Ron were staying behind.

They bade good night to Harry and Ron, then left the pub and stepped outside. The temperature had dropped and Ginny welcomed it - she was glad for the Autumn weather which was only just around the corner. As they walked, Ginny looked around at the little houses and shops, lopsided buildings, bushels of flowers and stone fixtures. She couldn't help but notice the differences between Hogsmeade and Lacasse. She decided that Lacasse had something that Hogsmeade lacked... something a bit whimsical, a sort of beauty or elegance to it. However, Hogsmeade seemed ... stronger somehow. Perhaps because she'd been to it long ago, saw it withstand her childhood and a war. Lacasse was beautiful and sparkling and full of charm and wonder, but here... here there was history and ease and familiar kind of beauty. It accompanied an easy feeling... a feeling of being home.

"I'm really happy Harry agreed to be in the wedding," Hermione said a few minutes after they'd started on their walk.

Ginny, startled out of her reverie, looked at Hermione in slight confusion. "Had you thought he wouldn't agree to it?"

"Well, no, it's just... he works a lot, you know."

"Well..." Ginny trailed off. "He wouldn't miss the wedding, would he? Because of work?"

"Oh, no," Hermione assured Ginny, shaking her head. "At least, I don't think so. But well, he's been a bit... I dunno, strange lately."

Ginny bit her lip. Though it was on the tip of her tongue to ask what "strange" meant, on the other hand she was even more inclined to change the subject. She felt that it was somehow wrong to get into a discussion about things that were private to Harry. In the end she decided to say nothing, thinking that it would be rude to either inquire about it or completely change the subject when Hermione had so blatantly brought it up.

"Well," Hermione said, trailing off. "I don't want to bore you with it all--you know Harry--his problems are always surfacing."

Ginny lifted a brow. "I'm ... sure he's fine."

"Hmm..." Hermione said, looking as though she wanted to continue, but Ginny hadn't really given her anything to reflect on.

"So, anyway... the wedding robes," Ginny said, "What did you have in mind?"

~*~

By the time Ginny made it back to the Burrow, it was just past midnight. As she undressed for bed, she looked at the little floating numbers over her bedside table and thought to herself about what she would have been doing if she still lived in Paris.

She'd have just gotten home after taking the long route back to the flat...or she'd still be at her bridge, catching up on owling. A glance at her desk showed Ginny that she had only one letter to answer just now--Aurelie's, who had written yesterday. There was also a note that Sarah had sent her about meeting tomorrow for lunch and a photograph of Lacasse that she'd been meaning to put in a frame. Ginny remembered how her desk at the flat used to be overflowing with letters.

She slipped into her bed and closed her eyes. Though she loved being home and wouldn't trade it for anything, just for tonight, she imagined that she was back in her cozy little flat and she would wake up to the sounds of Paris coming through her window tomorrow morning.

To Be Continued...