Scarlet Woman

I became very acquainted with the brown paisley quilt. It wasn't long before knew every crack in the ceiling, every stripe on the wall, each line in her face. Summer soon turned to Autumn, and then Winter, and nothing had changed.

Friday nights were our night, safe in the knowledge that the heavenly Virginia and the somewhat less desirable Ronald would not discover us. I had never questioned where Mr. Weasley was, and didn't plan to speak his name. To do that would be to admit our sins, that yes, she was a married woman. And I tried to keep that shoved at the back of my mind in the overstuffed box marked "DENIAL".

When I was alone, I would take my clothes and inhale the sweet cinnamon scent that Mrs. Weasley left on them. It sounds vomit-inducingly sentimental, but it wasn't like that- not really. I wasn't in love with Mrs. Weasley. When I smelt that scent I recognised all her goodness and kindness. The scent of a mother.

At the very bottom of my denial box was a thought I really didn't want to have, because I knew it was the truth. What I wanted in Mrs. Weasley was not a lover, or a friend, but a mother.

Sigmund Freud would have loved me.

*

"What do you think about, lover?"

I fumbled with the edge of the nasty quilt. She stroked my arm gently and posessively as she spoke. What did I think about? Far too much. Far, far too much.

"Lots of stuff. Nothing as deep as politics and literature and art and that, though. Things like what to eat for breakfast or how nice Gran's hair looks." I shrugged and blew a lock of hair out of my eyes. "Bit boring, really."

She gave me her warmest smile, crossing the room in the old cord slippers. She sat down at the rickety pine table and began to comb her hair. It tumbled on to her shoulders, a wave of cinnamon and flames.

"You're such a blessing, Neville." Her eyes, in the mirror caught mine sending her insatiable heat waving through my body.

"Such a blessing."

*

It was only when I left her next morning that I thought about the blessing comment. It had flattered me at the time, compliments were always thin on the ground for me after all. It was nice to think of myself as a blessing, as someone who was sent to make Mrs. Weasley's life better. Yes! I had a purpose, and that purpose was to bless Mrs. Weasley! I, Neville Longbottom had a purpose!

Coming back down to Earth wasn't so nice. I remembered my comment before that, "what to eat for breakfast or how nice Gran's hair looks" with disgust. I always had the same breakfast- cornflakes with sugar and a cup of tea, and Gran's hair never looked nice because she always hid it under a hat. And the fact was, the comment made me look like a mindless prat. That's why I was her blessing- because I was mind-numbingly thick. That made me easily led, agreeable and always so lovely. Super toyboy material.

You plank, Longbottom. You're not her angel but her idiot!

I padded into the kitchen, wearing an oversized pair of socks that belonged to Mr. Weasley. Rather bizarrely, they were striped with violet and mustard yellow.

As usual, there was a note on the fridge. Today's was no dissapointment, Gran had written it in pink ink for me. I tilted my head to one side and began to read.

1 pint milk

Potatoes

Scoop bats' bladders

Copy of Hell magazine-

No, Gran was not an avid reader of goings-on in the Underworld. It was a classic Longbottom spelling mistake. I made a mental note to change it to "Hello" later.

Packet of-

Only I never did get to find out what the packet contained. Because there, on my doorstep, stood the one and only Ginny in all her glory. My mud-wrestling, beautiful, rat princess. I ran to the door, skidding along the parquet floor in the furiously coloured socks and crashing into the doorframe. I opened the door cautiously, and her beauty hit me in a blaze of scarlet glory.

"Ginny, Gin, Virginia, come in!" I gabbled. Sometimes, instead of being tongue-tied around Ginny I fell into manic mode. This was ultimately worse than my awed silence, as it meant that I babbled incessantly, chuckled often and stared constantly.

She followed me through to the kitchen, where I busied myself with the teapot. She sat at the table and rubbed her hands together to warm them. When she blew on them, I couldn't help noticing the perfect pout her cupid's bow mouth made. As a result, my concentration failed me and had it not been for her, I would have poured scalding hot water over my hand.

"Th- Thanks, Gin. Really, could've been quite nasty, that," I said cheerily as I set a cup in front of her and joined her at the table.

"What brings you to number 7 on this fine afternoon?" Ugh. I ran the sentence over in my head and cringed

"Something Mum wants," Ginny said, rolling her eyes. If only you knew, my sweet Virginia, I thought with a pang.

"Oh yes? Well, I would be most honoured to oblige." Ugh, ugh, ugh. Someone really should tear out my voicebox one day. For everybody's sake.

"I doubt it, Nev. She's invited you and your gran to have Christmas lunch with us. Get out of it while you can." A conspiratorial grin graced her face, one identical to her mother's when she had said "it'll be our little secret.".

"I'll help you think of an excuse, if you like."

Truthfully, I wanted to jump at her offer. I didn't know if I could face Mrs. Weasley's coy smiles and secret gestures around all her loved ones. And beyond that, Ginny would be there, and I simply could not contain myself in her presence.

But this wasn't just about me, it was about Gran. Ever since I had been in her care, we hadn't thought to celebrate Christmas. We would usually spend Christmas Day in bed, or on Gran's part, dead drunk Although she would die before admitting it, the truth was, I depressed Gran. And Gran didn't deserve to be depressed, she deserved presents and trees and the chance to enjoy herself for once.

Realising that my eyes had glazed over, I turned back to Ginny with smile to rival all fixed grins.

"No, no, we'd love to come, be happy to. Gran- she'd like it a lot. It'd mean a lot to her- and me, of course. Yes, we'd like to come."

Ginny nodded slowly, as if I was speaking Hungarian.

"That's... great, Nev. Mum'll be thrilled to bits. Ah, yes, and you can bring your 'significant other'." She nudged me, with a suggestive grin. I crumbled at the touch, almost sliding out of my chair.

"Will.. you be bringing one, er, Virginia?" I wheezed, taking a long sip of tea to shut myself up.

"Not in so many words. Actually, I had a little bit of an ulterior motive in coming here."

I blinked, starimg at her pale, elegamt hamds curled around her mug. "Oh yes?"

"Yeah. You see, everybody's got.. well, someone apart from me." She laughed to herself. "This is really sad. You're allowed to laugh and tell me I'm being pathetic. It's just.. everyone will go on at me about why I'm single and they'll be unbearable. You know what Ron-and-Hermione are like." I most certainly did. They were the epitomy of a smug couple- so often seen together that their names had become hyphenated.

"And, I was wondering- well, hoping that-" What scared me the most was that I was seeing myself in Ginny. She seemed to have a discomfort and confidence which mirrored mine. And that was when I started to wonder..

"Would you... I can't believe I'm doing this- sorry Nev. Would you, by any chance, pretend to be going out with me for Christmas lunch?" She quickly averted her eyes and stared down at the table in deep concentration.

My heart skipped a beat. I wanted to get up and dance around the kitchen whilst singing the alleluia chorus, but being a Longbottom, I had a sane reputation to fulfil. I gently touched her hand and gave what I only hoped could be a warm smile.

"Ginny, I'd love to. Especially if it makes Ron-and-Hermione more bearable." I made a face and she laughed.

"Ohh, thank you so much, Neville. I'll make it up to you, I swear." She kissed my cheek and gave me a shattering, megawatt grin.

"Well, must be off. And, Nev?" she asked, pulling her coat on.

"Yessss?" I murmured, completely entranced by her. She paused for a second, just looking at me. Unlike Mrs. Weasley's gaze, it did not burn through me but bathe me in a cosy warmth. It was all I could do to stand there grinning wildly.

"I.... No, it doesn't matter. I'll see you next Sunday, then! Thanks again."

With that, she was gone. I knew that I, Neville P. Longbottom would be having a very interesting Christmas.