Scarlet Woman

That afternoon in August, I was very surprised to find that even I was bored. The sky was cloudy, the sherry was stale and the balloons flopped miserably on their pale strings. The banner pinned up with blu-tack to the front of the house read "WELL DONE EVIL !"

The N, the extra L and the E had fallen off at the beginning of the party, and no one had bothered to stick them back on.

I wasn't ungrateful, I knew how Gran and the others had gone to great lengths of trouble to organise this party for me. They hadn't expected me to pass my exams and leave Hogwarts with a good set of grades- even I hadn't- but for once, they were all proud of me. This party was their way of showing that they cared, so I was trying to make the most of it.

We were all sitting on little plastic chairs on the grass. Gran had invited all the people I had known at school, as well as their parents. I suppose, it was a great chance to socialise, only nobody seemed to be doing that. There were long, bored, awkward silences, sometimes followed by a pleasant little comment like, "I'd never have thought of putting cheese with pineapple! And on a cocktail stick too..". We all sipped our sickly sherry, untouched plates of cocktail sausages and chocolate fingers on our laps.

I looked over at Ron, who was staring wildly around, probably looking for an escape route. But I couldn't see Ginny anywhere. I felt a pang of dissapointment for a second, but it didn't last. From out of nowhere, Hermione had appeared and was trying to indulge us all in an impromptu game of charades.

I walked through to the kitchen, planning to take refuge there until the game was over. I had never been one for guessing games. On the fridge was a note, "Buy Cat's Ointment". I couldn't remember ever having a cat, and the note was just plain nasty on a fridge door, so I peeled it off.

"Hello," a warm voice said, from the kitchen table. I looked to the source of the voice. My heart skipped a beat. It was her, Ginny. Ginny..

She looked beautiful in a long black dress. Her hair burned brightly against the black, and it fell loosely over her shoulders in soft waves. She gave me that smile, her cheeks glowing pink. Ginny radiated warmth, and I could feel her heat from halfway across the room.

"What's up, Evil?" she asked. I cringed, trying to stop my face from going traffic-light-red.

"You've seen the banner then...?" I managed to stammer, feeling sweat drip down my forehead as she looked into my eyes.

"Are you OK?"

Am I OK... Funny, I seem to have gone completely numb.

"Yes. Yesss. Fine, great party, don't you think?" I gurgle, before giving an apologetic smile and returning to the garden, hoping to hold on to that one last shred of dignity.

*

At about five o' clock, I cut the cake. Mrs. Weasley had made it for me. I liked Gran having links to Mrs. Weasley, it meant that I had links to Ginny. I had never got to know Mrs. Weasley, but she seemed like a nice woman. A bit like the mum I missed and needed sometimes.

When the cake was finished, Mrs. Weasley took my arm.

"Neville, dear, would you mind taking me home? I've lost the others and I do like a man's arm to hold on to."

I nodded. It was only right to repay her for making that vast cake. She linked her soft arm through mine and led me through the gate, out on to the country lane.

We walked for quite a while before either of us spoke. Mrs. Weasly looked up to the sky.

"Good lord, it's going to rain! Hurry!"

*

We finally arrived outside The Burrow.

"Well, here you are, Mrs. Weasley." I smiled courteously. "Goodbye."

She gave me a strange look.

"But you're soaked through. Come inside and dry off."

That look in her eyes was so strange. Her eyes were warm, like Ginny's. She gave off heat too, only hers was cooler and thicker. I nodded again, rain beating down upon our necks. She ran to the door and unlocked it quickly, ushering me inside.

I sat down in a worn looking paisley armchair, whilst she busied herself in the kitchen. A copy of the Daily Prophet was on the table, and I noticed that a page had been dog-eared. On closer inspection, the page was Aphrodite Smith's Ladies' Advice Column. The headline jumped off the page, "WHAT TO DO WHEN YOUR MARRIAGE GOES STALE".

I refolded the page and flung the paper back down as she walked in with two large brandies.