One Last Chance

Ron was running down an old London road. He had managed to slip away from his family on their way to the train station. Ron and Ginny were set to leave for Hogwarts that afternoon and Ron wanted to buy something before they departed for Hogwarts. Before he knew it, he was standing in front of a Muggle flower shop.

On the train ride home at the beginning of the summer holidays, Harry and Ron had gotten into a discussion about girls and relationships. Ron was old enough by now to start showing features like his father's - his curiosity with Muggles was becoming more profound by the end of his sixth year. Harry had explained to Ron what Muggle men did for Muggle women when they were interested in one another.

"Flowers, is what they normally fancy," remarked Harry as Ron sat by taking notes.

"Flowers? You mean, they don't like Exploding Chocolate Hearts? Or Enchanted Dancing Fairies?" Ron was amused at this inconceivable fact.

"Well," continued Harry, "they like chocolate hearts, and anything chocolate for that matter, but nothing that explodes, moves or makes noises."

"Take all the fun out of life, don't they?" Ron said, laughing. "Now, what about these f-flowers? I mean... what do they do?"

"They don't do anything, Ron. They only sit there and look pretty, some smell nice too. I suppose roses would be their favourites. Uncle Vernon comes home with some for Aunt Petunia every so often. That's only if he's not busy with his drill orders or buying something for Dudley instead. But why does it all matter, Ron? Ron?" Ron was busy copying down every word Harry was saying. "Ron, what are you doing?"

"Huh? Me? Oh, nothing... just curious, th-that's all," choked Ron as he stuffed the parchment in his travel bag as the train came to a halt. "Well, I guess that's it then," Ron continued. "Sorry you can't come to visit this summer mate."

"Oh, it's all right...Dumbledore's orders, you know," Harry said with a saddened expression. "Have a good one, Ron."

"Same to you Harry. See you in September."

That was last time that Ron and Harry spoke that summer. He was now inside the flower shop with the piece of parchment in his hands. Ron browsed until he had found what he was looking for. "Roses..." he thought to himself.

"E-excuse me miss..." he stuttered towards the florist. "How m-much is it for..." he looked down at his parchment, "a d-dozen r-roses?"

"Hello there, wee lad! Are you going to buy those for a pretty lass of yours?" asked the elderly woman in a soft Irish accent

"We, actually, it's none of your business, is it?" Ron said smirking.

"Sorry, I was only trying to be friendly. A dozen of the white ones will cost you 12 pounds."

Ron ran his eyes down the parchment. Harry had drawn out a currency chart for Ron so that he could understand Muggle money. He quickly pulled out some bills from his pocket and matched them to the pictures Harry had made.

"Erm...here you go," he said hesitantly as he flung some bills across the counter. He gave a nervous smile. The florist eyed Ron suspiciously for a second before proceeding to the cash drawer. Ron quickly grabbed twelve of the roses and darted out of he shop.

"And here's your change -" the florist began, only to see that Ron had already gone.

Ron didn't stop to think about all of the attention he was attracting as he raced with a dozen white roses back to the Leaky Cauldron. Catching his breath as he stepped through the door, he bent over, clutching his sides. Ron hadn't played Quidditch over the summer, and wasn't as in shape as he needed to be. While he was affixed in his crouching position, he noticed his watch...he only had fifteen minutes left before the train to Hogwarts was due to leave. Holding in the pain, he ran to the fireplace, grabbed a shifty handful of flue power, and blurted out, "Platform Nine and Three Quarters!" Instantly, he was thrust into a green spinning flame.

Moments later, Ron stepped out of the fireplace, located in the rear of Platform 9 ¾. While he dusted himself off, he glanced around as if looking for someone. "No sign of Ginny yet," he thought. But just as he was flicking the last spots off of his right shoulder, Ginny came darting around the corner.

"Come on, we're going to miss the train!" she said as she thrust Ron's trolley into his stomach.

"Thanks a bunch, sis..." choked Ron, trying to regain his breath.

"You better be thankful that I pointed out those Muggles for Dad, or else you would have never escaped."

"And what about Mum, how did you keep her from noticing?"

"Oh, I have my ways," Ginny said with a smirk.

Ron and Ginny had grown quite closver the past two years; they had been the only two Weasley children left in the household. However, Ginny had developed a strong taste for mischief, such as that from Fred and George. However so, Mr. And Mrs. Weasley still though that their perfect little girl was an Angel. Ron stopped in his tracks as they were about to unload his trolley. "Ginny... what... did... you...do?" Ginny stood, smiling at the catastrophe she had caused. Clearly, she thought she'd created a masterpiece.

Wizards and witches were running around in circles chasing runaway trolleys, which were conveniently rolling in a circle. Trapped in the centre of the charmed speeding carts was none other that Mrs. Weasley.

"Funny, isn't it?" giggled Ginny. "Now quick! You get on the train while I fix this." She shoved Ron onto the train and proceeded towards the mishap. With a dozen roses hidden in his jacketRon was actually starting to laugh. He couldn't believe it. His plan had worked. He made a mental note to himself to properly thank Ginny later, but in the meantime he had more important things to do.