Scarlet Woman

It was a long Sunday afternoon. Gran had forced me to accompany her to the annual Apple Fair. It was raining non-stop, soaking through our umbrellas as our incredibly uncool welly boots sloshed through thick mud. Many locals were about, all over forty and all sporting those luminous mackintoshes that haven't been sold for years. I began to panic that Mrs. Weasley might be amongst them. I had managed to avoid her since the.. episode after my party. But sooner or later, I would have to face her. Perhaps she would be embarrassed about the whole thing. I could tell her it was OK, happens to a lot of women her age. On the other hand, she might still want me. And, of course, I would say no and that she should pull herself together.

Gran stopped in front of Mrs. Garrett's cider stand, pouring herself a sample immediately. Remembering what happened last year at the cider stand, I left Gran to her own devices and wandered off. I squelched miserably through soggy field, passing solitary tractors as I went. I held my head down, hair plastered to my head with water. As a result, I couldn't see where I was going and was scared out of my wits when I heard a voice calling my name.

I looked up, and there she was. Standing under a cherry red umbrella, hair whipping out behind her. I sighed softly to myself. Even streaked with mud, soaked with Devonshire rain, Ginny Weasley was beautiful.

She trudged through to me in her brother's clumpy boots. "Having fun, Nev?", she asked, sheltering us both with the umbrella and surrounding us in a surreal red glow. Even in this weather, she was warm, her cosy heat flowing through me.

I'd have blushed, if it weren't for the fact that my face had gone numb some time ago.

"Not really," I managed to say, clenching my teeth against the stammer. Unable to control myself, I added, "You look... n... nice."

Ginny laughed. "No I don't, Evil, and neither do you. We look like a pair of drowned rats."

True, but what a beautiful rat you are, Virginia.

She smiled at me, reducing me to a quivering ball of mud. Her eyes had the same burning look I had seen in her mother's. Oh God, the things her mother had done to me! I overbalanced, slipping gracefully on to my bum. I brought Ginny down with me, shrieking with laughter.

Ginny brought a mud coated hand to my cheek and streaked it twice, like warpaint. I did the same to her, my hands trembling at the touch of her skin. She looked exotic now, like a fire goddess. She smudged the tip of my nose, turning me into what must have been a rather scary bunny. All the time we laughed. Ginny laughed with her head back and her mouth wide open, fully enjoying the moment. I merely giggled, more unsure of myself than I had probably ever been in my whole life.

Ginny grabbed my arm, shouting "Tag!" and sped off in the opposite direction. I stumbled after her, praying my asthma wouldn't play me up. I had lost my inhaler at Hogwarts with seven books, my hat and the greatest loss of all: Trevor.

"Ginny-Ginny-Ginny!" I called. "Vir-gin-iaaaaa!" I was beginning to enjoy our childish game, because to tell the truth, I had never played as a child. I started to enjoy the feeling of great blobs of rain dripping down my face as I ran, guided by the wind. Ginny started to slow down near the tractors. I took my opportunity to run my fastest, throwing myself at her in a bizarre spread-eagled rugby tackle. It felt good. Not only had I won the game, but Ginny- the godly, saintly, beautiful Ginny was lying beneath me. Nice work, Longbottom.

"That's not fair!" Ginny panted, struggling. I gave her my best evil laugh, and for a second I thought I actually scared her. But I should have known that the Weasley women are strong and can manipulate any situation to turn their way. In seconds, Ginny had grabbed my wrists with unhuman strength for such a small girl and pulled me under her as she sat on me and cackled like a witch.

And that was the start of the mud-wrestling match of the century, between Princess Virginia and the Evil Bunny.

*

Later that day, Gran and I walked home under a huge maroon umbrella with a duck's head carved at the end. I had hoped that Gran would be tipsy, but her liver seemed to have developed an immunity to Mrs. Garrett's "best in the West!" cider. The second she had found me at the fair, she gave me her best displeased glare, eyes scanning my muddy, soaked clothes. Then she had grabbed my arm, linked it through hers and proceeded to march me out of there.

"What do you think you look like, Neville? Honestly, I thought you were such a sensible boy." So did I, Gran, so did I.

"We try our hardest with you, bring you up to be a conscientious and well-behaved boy and you decide to show me up in this unspeakable manner!" Gran knew that the guilt trip, more than anything else in the world, made me feel like crap.

"You made us so proud with your exam results." God.. Gran was so good at this. It wasn't what she was saying, but the implication of "your parents would have been proud of you" that cut so deep.

"We thought that from then on we could start treating you like an adult. But,", she breathed heavily through her nose, looking down it at me. "I can see we were wrong."

Does she know.... Does Gran know about me and Mrs. Weasley?

"I saw you, you know." She... saw me?! Oh holy shite. She saw me doing unspeakable things with Mrs. Weasley, a very good friend of hers, a middle-aged woman- a married woman with seven children and.. she saw me! My life, my very sad little life as I knew it was over. I would be kicked out of the house and would have to turn to the streets. I would become a toothless bag of bones with no wordly posessions and a sad tale of a wanton red-haired mistress. How would I make money? I couldn't busk- the only thing I could play was the recorder and then the only tune I knew was "London's burning". Maybe I could shine shoes or-

Gran cleared her throat, bringing me stumbling back to reality.

"With that Ginny Weasley." Ginny....? Ginny! Inwardly, I breathed a sigh of relief. That was nothing to get me kicked out of the house for. I could go home and put away my recorder, seeing us mud-wrestling wasn't anywhere near as bad.

I got an earful about behaving like a child in public, did I have no dignity, what must her mother have thought. But it didn't matter. My secret was safe for the time being.

And I, Neville Longbottom, had mud-wrestled with Ginny Weasley.