Scarlet Woman

The outside of The Burrow had been enchanted with floating candles. Through the mist of a country fog, they shimmered and danced from miles down the lane. As I stepped up the path with Gran on my arm, we noticed that the gnomes had been taught to sing. I was fairly impressed by their clumsy rendition of "Jungle Bells", but beside me, Gran tutted. "There is no place for frivolity in this world," was one of her favourite phrases and strongest beliefs.

We continued to walk up the path, past the chicken coop. I didn't like the chickens. They had a knowing, dissaproving look in their beady eyes every time I passed them. Strange as it may seem, their clucking turned to "Wrong, wrong" in my ears as I hurried past. They knew about me and Mrs. W.

The door was decorated with a large wreath. Hesitantly, I put a fist to it, waiting for Gran's signal.

"Well, knock then, Neville."

I nodded and knocked once, twice. The door opened and we were hit by a wave of warmth and a comforting scent of brandy and cinnamon. About two dozen redheads stood in the hallway, all holding glasses of mulled mead. I scanned them for Ginny, leaving Gran with an ageing Weasley wearing a plum kilt rather bizarrely over a pair of corduroy trousers.

"NEVILLE!" Ginny raised her head from the crowd, wearing what was unmistakeably a Weasley original. Only she could have pulled off that bile green and salmon creation. I elbowed my way through the Weasley clan, finally getting to her side.

"Merry Christmas, Gin." Taking full advantage of the boyfriend-for-a-day situation, I kissed her cheek. I vowed to remember the sensation for as long as I lived as warm shivers ran down my spine.

"Well, well!" A voice rung through the crowd. With its flat vowels and slight growl, I immediately recognised it to be Ron's. I glanced over at Ginny to see that she was wearing the exact same expression as me- nervous apprehension.

"Neville, mate!" Ron took my podgy hand in his large one, almost crushing it with his vice-like grip. "Well, you and Ginny, eh? Who'd've thought it?"

Ginny and I wore identical, fixed 60 Watt grins- her looking dazzling, me looking positively terrifying. I often caught my smile in a mirror and vowed never to smile again. I just had too many teeth.

"What's this?" This time, it was the clear voice of Hermione. Beside me, I felt Ginny cringe at the thought of the terrible two.

"Grab a sick bag," Ginny muttered through the side of her mouth to me as Hermione bustled through to Ron's side. They both beamed at us with identical, saccharine smiles saying "wouldn't you love to be as happy as we are?"

I couldn't help but long for the days when Ron and Hermione would have blazing rows in the Common Room, or the days when Ron-and-Hermione-weren't-speaking. They were a classic example of the love-hate relationship, no more than a sickly plot for a romantic comedy. I loved Ron and I loved Hermione, but I couldn't seem to get to grips with Ron-and-Hermione.

After much affectionate shoulder-punching from Ron and cooing from Hermione, we finally managed to make our getaway. As Ginny led me towards the kitchen, I couldn't help but stare at the ever-growing Weasley contigent. Where exactly where we all going to placed for lunch, anyway? I caught a quick glance at Gran, who was rapt in conversation with Mr. Kilt-Trousers. Good, I thought, as Ginny shut the kitchen door behind us.

"I am so sorry about that," Ginny began, stirring the gravy absent-mindedly with her wand. A strand of hair fell out of her plait and tumbled down her forehead. My mouth fell open in awe of her, and to my surprise and great annoyance, I couldn't seem to shut it.

"No no, it's fine." I forced the words out. Each one felt like a brick that I couldn't get my tongue around. "I'm having a good time and Gran certainly is." How could I not have a good time, being in her divine presence for a whole day?

She just smiled, although somewhat weakly. "Hey, we haven't had any alcohol yet, have we? Can't have Christmas without getting absolutely bladdered." Ginny ducked down and opened a cupboard.

I, of course, did not look at her bottom.

*

To fit in the large mass of people, Christmas lunch was served outside. To any Muggle, having a meal outside in the middle of December is about as mad as gets. However, luckily for us, there were those who could conjure heat and warmth in one word.

There were six long tables laid out on the lawn, each with a hand-embroidered tablecloth. Ours was old and stained, or as some might say, well loved. Each place was laid with a snowman napkin, a nametag and even a cracker! I felt a huge rush of excitement, inner child jumping up and down madly.

So far, Mrs. Weasley and I had managed to stay out of each other's way. In fact, I hadn't seen her at all. Our table was laid for the "young 'uns", which, unfortunately for us meant Ron-and-Hermione.

"Hello there, Neville!" I looked up to see Mr. Weasley standing inches away from me wielding a large knife. I panicked.

Oh God.. Oh God. He knows. He doesn't want to share his wife. He's going to cut me up into little pieces, put me in a brown paper envelope and hand it to Mrs. Weasley with an evil smile! It's the end for me- I had given my life for a month of sweet seduction and now I was paying the price! How could Gran possibly pay for a funeral? Trust me to ruin her Christmas by getting myself bludgeoned. Oh God.. Goodbye, sweet Virginia.. I go to a better place..

Mr. Weasley shook my shoulder good-naturedly.

"What are you gawping at, lad? Are you going to get this turkey carved or what?"

I made a gurgling noise and smiled weakly at him. A tomato blush was creeping around my ears faster than I could say "Longbottom is a thick prat". I took the knife from him and started to carve, ignoring the heavy sense of guilt welling up in my stomach.

*

We watched Hermione gush, staring at the ring like it was her first born child. Harry smiled falsely, looking a bit nauseous. Ginny turned to face me, looking radiant in her Napoleon-esque tricorner hat from her cracker.

"I think that's my sugar fix for the day. Let's get out of here before she asks me to be a bridesmaid!" I nodded, grimacing as Hermione started to hum the wedding march.

I should explain that although Ron and Hermione were sickeningly sweet together, we were very happy for them. Single people will inevitably make negative comments, though secretly we'd all like a go at being another Ron-and-Hermione.

Ginny led me up those threadbare stairs to her room. I took in every detail, imprinting the look on her face in my mind. I hoped she would stay in my mind forever.

"Merry Christmas, Nev," she said, handing me a miniature tree in a blue ceramic pot.

I was utterly gobsmacked. A present? For.. for me? I'd never had a proper present- especially not one so thoughtful. I could feel tears welling in my eyes- it was a beautiful present from a woman of unearthly beauty. And for little, insignificant me!

"Read the label." Ginny's eyes sparkled happily. I gave her a watery smile and turned over the label.

THE TREE OF NEVILLE.

A tree! With my name! I gasped, and the tears started to escape. I never had been able to control my emotions- something I had found women rather liked, really.

"I'm a... I'm a tree!" I cried in glee. "Ginny, Ginny, it's beautiful, wonderful, bestpresenti'veeverhadthankyousomuch!"

"Careful," she said playfully, wiping at my tears with the edge of her woolly sleeve. "You're sounding like Hermione."

Then she squeezed my hand and left the room, giving me the most beautiful smile I had ever seen. I was left star-struck, sitting on her bed. Not only was she a divine creature, but she cared enough about me to find me something really special..

I was head over heels for the girl. And I was really starting to love Christmas.

"Enjoying yourself, sweetheart?"

I looked up to see a radiant Mrs. Weasley standing in the doorway, resplendent in pale pink. She wore a curious smile, one brow arched in question as to why I was sitting on her daughter's bed alone.

"Oh, yes," I gave her a thin smile, not really wanting to make eye contact. "Lovely. Best Christmas we've ever had." Not here. Please. Not now. How could I distract her..? What would Gran do, I wondered. And I had it in a second. The classic guilt trip! I would play the husband card.

"I noticed, er, Mr. Weasley is back." Mrs. Weasley sat down next to me. I scooted away from her a little, aware of the lightning bolts jumping between us.

"Yes, he is. Poor old thing- he's been in Egypt all year and he's had to come back to this rotten weather!" Her false laugh returned, only some decibels higher as a consequence of Christmas drinking. Her curly hair was up, a halo of flames. Like an angel from hell, I mused to myself.

"So," Mrs. Weasley continued, in what might have been a confident tone but was given away by a dullness in her eyes. "You and Ginny! How lovely."

"Yes," I said. The atmosphere between us was highly tense, like we were sitting on the edge of a dangling bough overlooking the sea. I scuttled yet further away, now squashed against the headboard in a quite undignified fashion. Mrs. Weasley seemed to sense it too, as she sat very upright with her hands clasped in her lap. Her wedding ring flashed angrily in my face.

"Neville.." she began, eyeing the tree through a sidelong glance. "Now you're with Ginny, I suppose-"

My heart jumped. I had never been more grateful. She was going to end it- to set me free. I could spread my wings and fly. No more guilt, no more troubke. She must have come to her senses when Mr. Weasley returned for Christmas, bless her.

"Well, it's the right thing to do," I said shakily, trying to restrain the waves of joy and impending freedom from showing. Mrs. Weasley looked at me in another sidelong glance, as though taking in what I had said. She had been cool before, but now red heat flowed from her to me, holding me down.

"I don't necessarily do what's right." She broke into a grin, looking at me through hooded eyes. It suddenly occured to me that my anxious scuttling had left me in an awkward place from which I could not escape. Not now, I pleaded silently. Please, Mrs. Weasley, you're a good woman with a husband waiting for you downstairs. A husband! Husband, husband, husb-

And her mouth was on mine in a suffocating, boiling kiss. It was a kiss to mark me, to put a collar on me labelling me hers alone. Her hands clawed at me desperately as I made my best effort to get away.

I had to pull away- to stop this now. I grabbed her forearms, ready to push her away.

But I didn't need to.

Because in the doorway stood Ronald Weasley, his white face a mad contrast to his flame hair.