The First Day

Ron crept up the stairs, avoiding the ones that squealed the loudest. He'd left Hermione sleeping, murmuring indistinct protests when he slipped from her bed. It was the first time he'd been inside her bedroom. All the other times he'd gone to her parents' house, he'd stayed downstairs in the kitchen or sitting room. It was just has he had expected. Almost painfully tidy, books filling nearly every horizontal surface, categorized by subject, then arranged in alphabetical order. Touches of whimsy relieved the austere edges of the books. A mobile of iridescent dragonflies was suspended from the ceiling in one corner, painted flowering vines twined around the walls, and a quilt with brightly-colored butterflies was spread neatly over the bed.

He held his breath as he quickly ran up the stairs by his parents' bedroom door. Molly, he knew would be awake soon, and while he knew she wouldn't lecture him for coming home at five in the morning, the slightly disapproving sniff would hit the mark far more than any shout would. Ron waited on the landing outside his bedroom, straining his ears, listening for the tell-tale creak of the Molly and Arthur's bedroom door opening. Exhaling a silent sigh of relief, he eased his bedroom door open, stopping just inside. Ginny was draped over Harry, both of them asleep. A large book slumped against the wall, its spine obviously cracked. Curiously, Ron tiptoed into the room, and picked up the book with a slight frown as several of the pages floated to the floor at his feet. He turned it over to see the title and bit back a curse. The Chosen One? A Biography of Harry Potter by Rita Skeeter... he said to himself. He must have thrown it. Don't blame him...

Ron set it on top of his bureau, and reached to shake Ginny's shoulder. 'Gin?' he whispered. 'Gin?' He shook her a little harder.

'Wha...?' Ginny blinked and looked blearily up at Ron.

'Better go back down before Mum gets up,' he said softly, trying not to wake Harry as well.

'What time is it?' she asked groggily.

'Just after five.'

'Unnngh...' Ginny slumped across Harry's chest, making him grunt heavily as he snorted awake. He squinted up at the blurred image of Ron.

'Wha's goin' on?' he mumbled, arching his back, making the bedclothes rustle as he tightened his arms around Ginny.

'Nothing,' Ron assured him, sinking to the edge of his bed.

'Oooookay...' Harry yawned, turning on his side, spooning against Ginny. She sank bonelessly into his body.

Ron fell backward into his bed. 'Fine,' he grumbled. 'Get in trouble. See if I care.' His warnings fell on deaf ears. Both Harry and Ginny had already gone back to sleep. Ron shook his head, and soon his soft snores rumbled into the lightening corners of the room.

*****

A loud pop echoed from beyond the back garden. Molly peered out of the window, a spoon full of peas suspended over her plate. 'Who on earth...?' she wondered. A figure opened the gate, and slipped through, hesitating for a moment, then let it swing shut. He carried a small, flat, wrapped parcel under one arm. The midday sun glinted off his bright hair. 'Charlie?' Molly breathed. 'Charlie!' she exclaimed. 'Oh, it's Charlie!' She swung her wand at the cupboard, and an extra plate fairly flew to the table with the speed of a racing broom. 'Charlie!' She darted out into the garden to greet him, throwing her arms around him, the force of her embrace making him grunt. 'Come inside, dear. We've just sat down for lunch,' she told him, chattering brightly, ushering him into the kitchen. 'Ginny's come home for the holiday,' she added. 'The other boys are here as well. Well, all but Bill,' she added.

Charlie patted her hand gently. 'I'll be here all afternoon, Mum,' he told her, guiltily aware he had barely written to either of his parents since January, nor had he come for a visit since Christmas.

'Of course you are.' Molly began to load his plate with food.

Charlie sighed and caught George's eye. George smiled a little, indicating the table with an inclined head. Charlie shrugged self-consciously, his cheeks stained with a dull flush, as he accepted the overflowing plate his mother handed to him.

*****

Charlie strolled toward the stone wall, with the flat package in his hand. 'Did you ever talk to that girl with the poetry?' he asked, his gaze on the horizon.

'Yeah.'

'And?'

George scratched his nose. 'We're talking.'

'Just talk?'

'We hold hands and play draughts and crosses, too,' George retorted.

'Is that what your lot's calling it these days?' Charlie smirked. He hoisted himself to the top of the wall and held out the package to George in a characteristically wordless statement.

'What's that?'

Charlie rolled his eyes. 'Just open it, git.'

George turned the small parcel over in his hands. It was small enough to cradle in his palms. He peeled away a small strip of the plain, brown paper Charlie had wrapped around it. A carefully sketched image of his five-year old self stared up at him, next to one of Fred, their jagged haircuts framing their mischievous smiles. George blinked back tears. 'It's brilliant,' he said thickly.

'I did it for your... Well, you know,' Charlie said, tracing the outline of a new burn on the inside of his forearm. 'I just figured a different day...'

George nodded mutely. Charlie had abandoned his usual spare charcoal lines for the glowing hues of pastels. Their round cheeks were rosy with laughter, sprays of freckles scattered across their noses, and their brown eyes alight with life. Charlie's raw talent floored George, but it wasn't something appreciated very much in most magical circles. Before he had gone to Wales after Christmas, George hardly bothered to wonder about him. Sandwiched between Bill and Percy's combined intellect, Charlie sometimes seemed an afterthought. Throw in George's own antics with Fred, Ron's exploits at school, and Ginny's mere presence as the first girl born into the Weasley family, it was little wonder Charlie had gone off to Romania as soon as he could. It gave George new insight into the inadequacy Ron must have felt, growing up in the looming shadows of his elder brothers. 'You don't have to keep it or put it out,' Charlie said neutrally. 'If it bothers you...' he added, his voice slipping into George's thoughts.

'Oh... No.' George shook his head. 'It's perfect. It's just... You... You're...' His lips pressed together, as he collected himself. 'It's perfect,' he repeated softly.

Charlie had known there would be no distracting George with his birthday looming ahead. Better in his mind to acknowledge it, face the pain and the fear, and learn from it. Just like dealing with a Horntail, he mused.

George cleared his throat. 'So, we're not so scary, are we?'

'Not in small doses,' Charlie said. 'Think I might have to undo my trousers, though. Feels like I gained ten pounds in there.'

'Yeah, Mum doesn't understand we don't all need to eat our weight on a daily basis.' George said gruffly.

'Better than tinned beans over the kitchen sink,' Charlie responded.

'It is, that.' George set the drawing aside. 'Don't let it be so long for next time, eh?'

Charlie nodded, the toes of his boots toying with the long grass that grew against the wall. He hadn't missed Molly's beaming face or the contented smile that played on Arthur's mouth, as Charlie regaled them with some of the more colorful shifts he'd had on the reserve. He knew it wouldn't kill him to come home a little more often, especially now that he was so close and wouldn't have to fuss with international Portkeys and had little excuse to put off visits until he could accumulate more than a day or two of vacation leave. 'I'll see what I can do...'

'Why did you come today?' George asked soberly. 'Why this one and not, I dunno, three weeks ago?'

'Just seemed like a good time,' Charlie said.

'Because it's close to a family birthday?' George pressed warily. 'Coming just on birthdays and Christmas, Charlie... Bad form.' He drummed his heels lightly against he wall. 'And at least you have the exciting job now. Bill works behind a desk, and Perce is still, well... A swotty git. But now he's a swotty git with responsibilities,' he chuckled. 'Fred and I admired you,' George said thoughtfully, with only a fraction of the pang he would have felt almost a year ago. It still hurt, but it didn't feel as if he were choking on it.

Charlie snorted in disbelief. 'Go on, and tell me another.'

George shook his head. 'We did. You know... If you hadn't left school early, Fred and I might not have had the stones to do it.'

'I didn't just quit school,' Charlie objected.

'You didn't finish, either,' George pointed out.

'I took a few N.E.W.T.s in Romania,' Charlie sighed. 'The exams for Care of Magical Creatures and Charms, really, just what I needed to know for the reservation. And that was after working there for a few years.'

'But you left to do what you wanted. And you were doing something you loved. That's what Fred and I did.' A reminiscent grin lit George's face. 'But with much more flair and style,' he added. Charlie snorted once more, this time in mirth. He'd heard about how Fred and George left Hogwarts, on their broomsticks, in a shower of fireworks. George eyed Charlie. 'You really are the rebel in the family. We just followed in your footsteps.'

Charlie's shoulders shook a little as he laughed. 'Don't let Mum hear you say that.'

*****

Arthur belted his dressing gown loosely around his waist and trudged up the stairs to Ron's bedroom. He might not have heard every squeak and groan of the staircase, like Molly did, but he was more than aware of when Ginny crept up to the attic. He never heard her make the return trip. Similarly, he knew when Ron had come home, in spite of his son's efforts to make as little noise as possible. Arthur wasn't naïve when it came to his children. Aside from possible loss of life or limb, Arthur preferred to choose his battles when the boys or Ginny made what would prove to be an ill-informed decision. He could count on one hand the number of times he'd been truly furious with any of them. Angry - of course he'd been angry - what parent had never been angry with their offspring? Arthur was even aware of how his physical appearance made him seem to other people. The slightly dotty obsession with all things Muggle, the thinning hair, the glasses that were always just a bit askew. It made him look less than competent. Arthur thought it made for good camouflage. No one would ever assume Arthur knew more than he let on.

The sounds of a raucous debate met his ears when he reached the landing outside Ron's bedroom. Arthur knocked softly and the sound immediately ceased. Ron opened the door slowly and peered around the edge. 'Were we too loud, Dad?' he asked.

Arthur slipped his hands into the pockets of his dressing gown. 'No. I'd just like a quick word with you and Harry.'

Harry's dark head popped up behind Ron's as if on cue. 'We didn't do anything!' he protested.

'Who said you did?' Arthur sidled into the room, and gestured for the boys to sit on the camp bed, while he perched on the edge of Ron's bed. One brow rose a little, at the sight of Ginny's slippers, neatly hidden beneath the camp bed. 'Now that you're moving out on your own, or will soon enough, it's time I had this chat with you. Should have had it long ago, but well... It wasn't quite the right time.'

Ron and Harry exchanged bemused looks, but waited expectantly for Arthur to continue.

Arthur cleared his throat a few times. 'Well, then... There will come a time when you might want to become... intimate with another person,' he coughed. 'And you should know there are ways to avoid getting yourself into a situation where you might not feel you're ready for it - emotionally or financially.' Both of Ron's brows rose considerably into his fringe and his throat bobbed as he swallowed a retort. 'You should know there is a charm, but like all things magical, it's how well you can concentrate on the incantation. It's not foolproof, either,' he added, feeling his ears burn. 'You can say it a hundred times, and if your mind's not in the right place, it won't work.'

By this point, the color in Ron's face had faded, leaving him with a sickly greenish-hue.

Arthur shifted, as if the mattress had been stuffed with rocks. 'But you shouldn't just take a girl to bed for the sake of bedding her,' he said sternly. 'There ought to be some sort of relationship. Whether you want to marry her or not is up to you, and you don't have to want to marry her or wait until you get married. But you shouldn't do anything that you're not ready for.'

Harry's brow furrowed. He did not want to discuss this with Arthur. But he had little choice. Who else did he have? And Arthur was less likely to want to punch him in the nose. 'How do you know? When you're ready?'

Arthur sighed gustily. He remembered asking one of his older cousins that same question. And he'd been baffled at the reply. But it was the best one he had. 'You'll know,' he said, twisting his wedding ring around his finger. 'Right. So the incantation is Arceovotare. Say it just before... Well... Things get started.' He pulled out his wand, the handle slipping in his sweaty palm. 'And you need to this wand movement,' he told them, flicking the wand up and back, almost as if he flicked something over his shoulder. 'Let me see you try it.'

Obediently, both Harry and Ron demonstrated the proper wand motion and incantation pronunciation a few times until Arthur was satisfied with their ability to perform the charm. Arthur rose from Ron's bed and reached for the doorknob. 'One more thing, boys... Think with your heads, not your willies.' He slipped through the door and closed it firmly behind him.

Ron and Harry sat in stunned silence for a moment before they both burst into stifled guffaws of laughter. Wiping his eyes, Ron fell back across the camp bed. 'D'you think we should have told him it was a bit too late for that lecture?'

Harry shook his head, rubbing his hands across his face. 'Wonder why he went all funny when he talked about not being ready for kids...?'

Ron sat up. 'Oh, you don't know?'

'Know what?'

'It's sort of a secret, but it's the worst-kept secret in the family.'

'Maybe you oughtn't to tell me,' Harry said quickly.

'Oh, Gin'll tell you soon enough, if I don't,' Ron dismissed airily. 'Mum was pregnant with Bill before they got married. She was four or five months gone at their wedding,' he added matter-of-factly. 'Dad was twenty and Mum was nineteen, and Auntie Muriel never lets her hear the end of it.'

Harry gnawed his thumbnail. 'Did they want to marry so early?' His own parents had married young, but Harry wasn't quite sure he wanted to do the same. He was still trying to figure out the ins and outs of being part of a family.

Ron shrugged. 'Yeah. If you hear Muriel tell it, they were planning on a December wedding as it was. And she goes on about the expense and fuss of pushing it back and doing things at the last minute.' Ron slid off the camp bad and crossed the room to his own bed. 'When she does it, Mum gets more and more upset, but she doesn't say anything, even though you can tell she'd like the curse the old bat into next Tuesday. Then Dad snaps at Muriel, and informs her she doesn't have to come for dinner at Christmas, and if she doesn't care to be in his home, she can go back to hers.' Ron slid under his quilt. 'Of course, he does that when we've been sent into the sitting room,' he said.

'What if the same thing happened with one of you?' Harry asked curiously.

It was as if he'd cast the largest Silencing charm of his life. Ron's mouth worked soundlessly for several long moments, before he spluttered, 'But I thought... You... Hadn't...'

'I haven't,' Harry said quickly. 'I mean, we haven't. I was just wondering what they might say if the same thing happened to one of you.'

Ron shook his head. 'I think they'd be disappointed. I mean, look at Dad and how he went on about being responsible. But they'd never throw us out, or drop all sorts of snide comments, like Muriel does.' He pulled the quilt up to his shoulders, one blue eye giving Harry a thoughtful look. 'But you knew that already...' The eye closed and Ron fell asleep.

*****

Harry held the garden gate open for Ginny. The early spring wind whipped around them, sending Ginny's hair flying, despite her efforts to tame it into a plait. The wind snatched tendrils of hair from the plait and toyed with them, tickling her ears and neck. Impatiently, Ginny swiped her hand over her face, palming strands of hair from her eyes. 'What do you have so far?' she asked.

Harry dug a piece of much-folded paper from his pocket. 'Everything for the kitchen, except for dinnerware and flatware. Molly took care of that for me. I need a bed, bureau, wardrobe, bedding, towels for the bath, a cot for Teddy, sofa, and a table for the kitchen.'

'And you plan on getting all of this today?' Ginny snorted.

'Going to have to,' Harry sighed. 'I went to look for a bed on a Saturday in London and nearly gave up. Too many people. Too many women with enormous prams... And I don't want to move in to the flat, and have to sleep on the camp bed for several more days.' He gave Ginny an embarrassed glance. 'And I'd like you to have some input...'

'Why? It's your flat,' Ginny argued.

'Aren't you going to...?' Harry bit back the rest of his comment. He jammed his hands into his pockets. 'Just need someone else's eye, is all.'

Ginny's eyes narrowed suspiciously, but she took his assertion at face value. 'All right, then. Do you have some sort of plan?'

'Yeah.' Harry nodded. 'Gringotts first, to exchange enough money into pounds, then into London. Hit a couple of shops. We can get most of everything at one place. And I've got a few other places in mind, in case they haven't got what I want.' He started to Apparate, but stopped in mid-turn. 'Do you want to see the flat first?'

'I think I would.'

'Gringotts first, then we'll go to Soho,' Harry decided. He took Ginny's hand, and Apparated them to Diagon Alley.

*****

Ginny stood in the middle of the bustling department store, with her hands on her hips, eyeing the rather large bed. She looked at Harry for a long moment, then back to the bed, her lower lip between her teeth. Harry waited next to her, nearly holding his breath. She hadn't said a word, just kept staring at the bed, an inscrutable expression on her face. 'Well?' he finally asked.

Ginny exhaled through her nose, a small line just visible between her brows. 'It's rather large, isn't it?' she finally said.

'I suppose...'

Ginny pulled the end of her plait over her shoulder, and fiddled with the elastic binding it. Her head tilted to one side, as her eyes closed briefly, her imagination giving her dreams something new to consider. They flew open, her cheeks slightly pink. 'It's so you don't fall on the floor when you have nightmares, no?'

Harry nodded vigorously. 'Right. Nightmares.'

Ginny walked around the bed, her fingers wrapping around one of the posts. 'It doesn't put you in mind of school?'

'Why would it do that?'

Ginny let her other hand trail through the gauzy hangings that looped around the post. 'Yeah. Hi.'

'The canopy frame's optional,' Harry said helpfully.

Ginny sank to the mattress, a look of bliss coming over her face. 'I like the mattress...' she cooed, falling back with a happy sigh. 'You ought to try this.'

Glancing around only a little self-consciously, Harry dropped quickly to the edge, making Ginny bounce a little. She giggled, earning the two of them more than a few disapproving looks from a matronly sales clerk. Harry rolled his eyes and lowered himself to the mattress, propping his head up on his upturned hand. 'Do you like it?'

'Yeah.'

'Brilliant.' Harry leaned forward and kissed the tip of Ginny's nose. He rolled off the bed and strode to the sales clerk, smiling grimly at her haughty expression. Don't be intimidated by her... She's no worse than Snape when he was at his slimiest... 'Excuse me,' he called. 'I'd like to purchase that bed, those two bedside tables, the triple wardrobe, and the five-drawer bureau.' The sales clerk's expression faltered slightly. 'And that cot over there - the one with the pine finish - with the matching changing unit.'

Flustered, the clerk moved to a desk, and began tapping on the keyboard of a computer. 'And how would you like to pay today, sir? Credit card?'

'Cash.'

'Cash?'

Harry peered at the clerk. 'Yes. Cash.'

'That's quite a lot of money,' the clerk began.

'I have the money,' Harry said, reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket, extracting a thick envelope.

'Did you rob a bank or something?' the clerk blurted, shocked into dropping her professional demeanor.

'Do you always question how a customer chooses to pay for their purchases?' Ginny inquired coolly behind Harry.

'I... erm...'

Harry slid his hand through the crook of Ginny's elbow. 'We can go elsewhere. Come on, Gin...' He began to walk toward the exit, but the clerk's voice stopped them.

'Wait. Cash, you said?'

'Yes. I did.' Harry gave the clerk a single contemptuous look.

'Where would you like the furniture delivered?'

Harry allowed himself a triumphant smile.

*****

'It was brilliant!' Ginny exclaimed. 'Harry looked at her like she was Umbitch and started to leave. And she saw that fat commission walking out the door with him. She nearly curtseyed when we left.'

Hermione burst into gales of laughter. 'I wish I had seen that!' She snorted into the paper cup of coffee cradled between her hands. She looked around Harry's flat, filled with large carrier bags, furniture placed haphazardly around the sitting room. 'So tomorrow...'

'Yeah.'

'Blimey,' Ron muttered.

'What?' Harry prodded, nudging Ron in the ribs with an elbow.

'I haven't slept in a room by myself for longer than a few weeks since I was eleven years old,' he mused. 'And now...' He looked at Harry, his face thrown into shadows by the flame of the lamp in the middle of the table. 'When the bloody hell did we grow up?' he demanded.

'It seems like yesterday we were looking for Trevor on the train, and I told you your nose was dirty,' Hermione said wistfully.

'Or Ginny was putting her elbows in the butter dish,' Ron teased lightly.

'Oh, God, I thought we'd all forgotten that,' Ginny groaned. 'Remember how Mum used to only get worried when the explosions from Fred and George's room stopped?'

Ron hooted into his own cup of coffee. 'Yeah. She always said that's how she knew what they were up to. It took weeks to get rid of the stench when they mucked up one of their formulas for a trick sweet once. Had to keep their clothes in Bill or Percy's old room, just so they didn't reek of rotten eggs.'

Harry swirled the tea left in his cup. 'What did Molly say about tomorrow evening?'

Ron shrugged. 'Said not to rush home. George told her if she wanted to do something for his birthday, she should do it on another day. Just not April first.' He took a sip of his cooling coffee. 'I asked him today, if he wanted the shop to open tomorrow. He said no. I didn't figure he'd want to, but it didn't hurt to ask, did it?'

'Just as well,' Ginny said quietly. 'It doesn't seem right to have any sort of do tomorrow without Fred. Maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea for George to do it on another day.' She drained the remains of her tea and jabbed her wand at the green-and-white paper cup, Vanishing it. 'Just as well you're moving the rest of your things in here tomorrow,' she told Harry. 'Give us all something to think about besides...' She stood abruptly, pushing the chair across the tiled floor. It squealed loudly in the quiet kitchen. 'Let's go home. Get some sleep. Long day tomorrow.'