Scarlet Woman

Although Ron had asked me to break things off with Mrs. Weasley earlier, I hadn't yet got round to it. It was a thing that required much thought, and careful planning was not my forte. I had spent the rest of the day conversing with myself and trying different approaches, but to no avail. When I finally glanced at the clock, the time had read ten fifteen. And the pub closed at eleven! Not wanting to miss Ginny, I had flung on the nearest coat (turned out to be Uncle Algie's tweed affair) and left without another thought.

The West Country's most miserable winter drizzle hit my face the second I shut the door behind me. I was rapidly heading for the Hag's Beard- the only wizarding pub for miles around, and a rather poor one at that. Every step brought me nearer to Ginny, the one who had held my heart since I first saw her. Perhaps I would tell her tonight. Perhaps, just maybe, it could all turn out for me in the end!

As it was quicker through the fields, I jumped the stile and trudged my way through the mud. Luckily, the first pair of shoes I had pulled on happened to be wellingtons, which squelched comfortingly in the grass. Trying my best to avoid attracting attention to anything remotely bovine, I half ran, just waiting for that sign to swim into view.

And lo, there it was, in all its peeling glory. In fact, the sign read "The Hag's ear ", the B and d long rejected. The ancient picture of the Hag in question was missing an eye and oddly, was growing mould. How could one so ravishing as Ginny sit in a pub where its namesake was growing yellow fungus? It seemed so wrong. I stepped in, ducking the extremely low doorstep. The smell of ale and tobacco instantly hit me, along with the drunken murmur of the West's wizards.

From what I could see over some thirty pointy hats, there was nobody of flame hair. Unless you were to count Ariadne, the pale and silent barmaid sulking over the gillywater.

"Ariadne, have you seen Ginny Weasley?" I asked, nudging her lightly. With vast effort, she blinked at me lazily and jerked her head in a vague direction.

And indeed, there sat Ginny, the one bright star in a universe full of debris. Congratulating myself on my deep and poetic comment, I pulled up a creaky stool and joined her.

"Well.." I flashed an apologetic grin, wishing it was I that had been on the gillywaters all evening instead of Ariadne. "I'm finally here."

Ginny was looking at me strangely. Completely understandable- tweed had never been your average teenage fabric, after all. She glanced up at the clock, a garish rickety old thing with spoons for hands, then back at me with a stony-eyed determination.

"Yes," she said, flashing me a blinding smile, "you are. Neville, there's something I need to tell you."

Once again, I was reduced to a rather unappealing blancmange in her presence. I blinked twice, and nodded my head in as non-wobbly a fashion as I could manage.

"Don't look so stunned! It's nothing bad.. Well, I hope not."

"Hmm?" I offered eloquently. By that point, I was losing concentration. How could she look and sound and be so delectable at the same time? Surely it wasn't fair on a rather simple one such as I.

"Neville, do you remember at Christmas when I wanted to tell you something and you said you had to go home?"

Of course I did. It had been number two on my list of worries ever since. Had I really got it right- did she feel the same way? Why had I spurned her- did she think I'd rejected her? What was I going to say to her once she told me? I couldn't tell her that I loved her too, always had and always will, because things were messy enough as they were. Would I be doing the 'right thing' in telling her about just what I had been up to with her dear mother?

"Yes, I do remember." I murmured, still half mixed up in my chain of worries.

Ginny nodded, and swigged the last of her butterbeer. She wiped her mouth on the back of her hand, saying nothing. I had never been good at conversations, never sure when to carry on talking or to shut up. I felt I ought to contribute something, but my mind would not construct any rational sentences. Which meant that I had already created a fantastically awkward atmosphere, and this was before possibly telling the object of my affections that I was shagging her mum.

"Last orders, Nev." Ginny said, pulling my attentions away from my neurotic self.

"You look like you need a drink." You know, Ginny, I couldn't possibly agree more.

"Right, right... yesss." I pulled myself off the stool and made my over to the bar, before remembering my absent manners. Trotting back to the table, I asked her majesty if I could buy her a drink.

"That would be great." She said, giving me a smile that bathed me in rays of glowing sunlight. I congratulated myself once again on my ever-growing talent for poetry.

"Would you get me one of those Gillywaters?"

My eyes grew round. "Ginny! You're underage! Do you really think that's a good idea?"

She gave me a look that said I-Couldn't-Give-A-Toss and jerked her head at the bar, egging me on. This was something I had never seen before- Ginny Weasley being bad. I didn't like it. She had been a saint in my eyes for too long, and to see her corrupted was painful. But at least it meant she was human, and if it was a Gillywater she wanted, I would give it to her.

"Hello again, Ariadne." I said, making my way back to the bar. She was now giving me a surly look, with one eyebrow raised at my having the audacity to speak to her.

"Ariadne's a long name, isn't it?" I asked. Despite my knowing she would never answer, I always spoke to her in the hope that I would gain some conversational skills. It was also great fun to see if I could make her break and make a noise of some sort.

"Can I shorten it? On second thoughts, Ariadne is a hard name to shorten, isn't it? How about a nickname? Like... Sparky?" I continued hopefully. Mute as ever, she gave me a glorious one finger salute.

"OK." I grinned at her, enjoying the way the scowl deepened. "Well, nice talking to you. I'll have a Gillywater and a Trollsblood Ale, please."

She gave me the drinks and an additional look saying Piss-Off-Longbottom. Taking her cue, I carried the drinks carefully back to Ginny and placed them on the table.

"Right." Ginny said, taking a long sip of the Gillywater and banging it back down on the table.

"Neville, what I wanted to tell you that night was.. well.. I didn't just ask you to be my date so that Ron-and-Hermione wouldn't jump down my throat. Maybe you noticed, with the tree and everything." She broke off, eyeing me cautiously.

Oh God, oh God, she was going to say it! I ought to be ecstatic, but how could I be when I had screwed things up so marvellously? I half wanted Ginny to come out with something totally different, like "It's because I fancy your Gran, Neville"- something which would not drag her or myself further into the tangled web Mrs. Weasley and I had woven.

"The thing is, Neville.. You know, I really hate doing this." And I hate hearing it, Ginny. Just don't say it- it will be better for the both of us. Frowning at my own cowardice, I cleared my throat and forced myself to speak.

"Ginny.. Gin.. Vir.. Ginny! You don't have to say it. I think I might know what it is."

She leaned in closer.

"You think I-"

But her words were lost, for the landlord rung the rusty old bell and gave his customary farewell of "Bugger off home!". Ginny's eyes met mine in a burning glance, and we left together.

The minute we were outside, Ginny put up her cherry red umbrella. Once again, we were surrounded by that freakish red glow, strangely comforting with her beside me.

We began on our journey home, both stuck in an awkward silence. I had to catch her a couple of times as she went slipping through the mud, hands relaxing at the touch of her body.

Suddenly, Ginny turned to me with a very grave expression on her face. I panicked. Here it came- the moment of truth I had been dreading. I set my face into an equally serious expression and looked into her eyes.

"Neville, I just wanted to say-" She broke off, looking pensive. Then a wicked grin crossed her face and she pushed me over into the mud, sitting on my chest and almost scaring me to death in doing so.

It took a second for me to click. Ginny didn't seem the type to go throwing herself at anyone like that, after all. Then, she smudged my cheeks with mud and I remembered.

"Want a rematch, do you, Weasley?" I asked in my most evil and powerful voice. I even added a laugh rich in malice before putting her into a headlock.

Ginny cackled, and then squealed, and squealed some more. Thinking I had hurt her, I let her go, only to have Miss Mud herself give me a full on rugby tackle.

"Ugh." I spat out a mouthful of mud, and surreptitiously grabbed a handful. Then without warning, I tipped the whole handful down her back.

The red umbrella lay discarded, bobbing cheerfully in a nearby puddle.We couldn't seem to stop laughing as we flung handfuls of mud at each other, fully enjoying our childish game. Far from the delicate waif she looked, Ginny actually gave a very good beating. Rather too good, actually.

I was thinking about raising the white flag when I took my last move. Ginny was standing very close to a puddle with her back to me, emptying out her wellies. It was all too easy. Sneaking up behind her, I put her hand of her shoulder and pushed her right into the puddle, laughing at her screams of shock.

I knelt down beside her, my sides splitting with laughter.

"I'm sorry, Gin. Couldn't resist."

But there was no audible reply from her. In a very sudden movement, she took my mud streaked face in her soaking hands. I tried to detect the emotion in her eyes, but could find no word for it. Slowly and hesitantly, she brought her face closer to mine until I could no longer see her eyes.

"Ginny?" I whispered. But she said nothing, and brought her lips to mine. Her kiss was soft, sweet and better than I had ever imagined. Every time I had ever seen that mouth, I had wanted to kiss it and now I knew why. It was like everything was falling into place; I could see fireworks, I could hear violins and I knew that I loved this girl with every fibre of my being.

But oh, I couldn't have her.

Get off her, Neville! screeched my inner voice. This is wrong. Wrong multiplied by infinity. Pull away! Do you want to hurt her?

But how could I stop, when everything felt so beautiful? Wasn't there any way I could stop time and stay with her forever, where we were safe?

It wasn't until I saw Gran's face looming over me, formidable and disgusted, that I knew I had to stop this. For her sake. For Ron's sake. It was the heroic thing to do.

So gently, I took her wrists and pulled her hands away from my face. She stopped the kiss, looking straight into my eyes. She must have seen the sadness in them, for her brow wrinkled with concern as she asked what was wrong.

What was wrong? I was wrong. I had done so many bad things. My mind went blank, so I let my mouth do the talking. The words slipped out easily and quickly, like they had never belonged to me in the first place.

"Ginny, I don't think I can do this. It's not wrong, it's what I've done with your mother that is. I've shagged her."

There was a horrible silence. Her eyes widened in horror, and I realised just what the bloody hell I had just said to her.

No!!!

Oh God.. I hadn't meant to be so blunt. I hadn't even meant to confess. And oh God, I had done it this time. Now two of the Weasleys knew, and one of them I loved more than I could ever love myself.

And I had just told her I'd SHAGGED her mother.

There was little else to do but run, water spilling out of the tops of my wellies as Uncle Algie's tweed began to soak through. I ran until I was sure she was out of sight; all the time telling myself how totally, utterly, completely stupid I was.

But it was the kindest thing I could do to let her go.