The Bargain

Chapter Five - Twelve Days, Part Three: The Receiving of Advice

August 3

"Morning all," Mr. Weasley said jauntily as he strode into the kitchen the next morning. His briefcase swung loosely from his hand as he sidled up to his wife and pecked her on the cheek. "It's shaping up to be a fine day."

He took a sip of tea and folded the recently-delivered Daily Prophet under an arm. Then with a wink at Harry, he said, "See you tonight, kids, Molly."

"Not so fast," Mrs. Weasley replied, grabbing the collar of his robe before she gave him a lingering kiss full on the mouth. "Now you can go. Have a nice day, dear."

Harry's eyebrows arched high on his forehead and he gave Ginny a questioning look.

Leaning forward, Ginny whispered, "Mum reckoned he'd had enough time on the sofa."

"Oh," Harry replied. He was glad for Mr. Weasley, although he tried very hard to not think about what his future in-laws did when they were behind closed doors. Would he still be chasing after Ginny in forty years? Would he spend the night, or several nights on the sofa? He was fairly certain that his own dad would have spent a night, or two, on the sofa, but he wasn't looking forward to that in the least. Maybe he could work it into the list of things that he had to discuss with Ginny. A sharp poke to his arm broke his reverie.

"Huh?" he responded, looking up to see Ginny talking to him.

"I said, did you get a chance to look at the invitations yet?"

Molly had returned from her errands yesterday with a stack of sample invitations, swatches of coloured materials, and a load of advice that Harry couldn't make head or tails of. Ginny, however, had dived headlong into the job of coordinating their wedding.

"I fell asleep with them strewn around my bed, after wading through only half of them," Ginny said. She buttered a scone, took a bite, and then continued with a simpering voice, "Are you sure you don't want to look at them with me?"

Harry cradled his mug of tea and shook his head. "Definitely not; it's too soon. I've still got to propose to you properly, remember?"

Ginny downed the rest of her scone and wiped primly at her mouth with a napkin. "Yes, I remember. You'd best get a move on with that, Mr. Potter."

Laughing and then taking a sip of tea, Harry replied, "I promise only two things: one, I'll propose to you before the wedding; and two, it'll be when you least expect it."

Ginny harrumphed and stood abruptly. "You're a tease, did you know that?"

"Am I?" he asked cheekily. "Who would have thought?"

Instead of a witty reply as Harry was expecting, she stuck her tongue out at him, swept up her dishes and marched over to the sink.

*

After breakfast, Harry met Tonks again for additional dance lessons. While he'd made tonnes of progress at their session yesterday, he was nowhere near the level of proficiency he wanted to be at for his own wedding.

When he had finished running through two different waltzes and a very exhausting tango, his legs aching in protest, he was surprised to see Remus walk up the stairs to meet them.

"I see Miss Tonks has you well on your way to becoming a proficient dancer," Harry's old professor said. "Despite her normally clumsy nature, Nymphadora has always been able to strap on a pair of dancing shoes and leave us mere mortals in the dust."

Tonks walked over to Remus, her face a mask of feigned sweetness, and elbowed him in the gut. Remus let out his breath in a whoosh and Tonks smiled over to Harry. "That's for calling me by my given name," she said, still smiling as if he had handed her a bouquet of roses.

Harry chuckled into his hand as Remus clutched his middle. "Yes, well," he gasped. "As pleasurable as this encounter has been, I've come to collect Harry."

"I'm not going back to the Burrow?" Harry asked pointedly.

Remus shook his head. "No. There's a small matter you and I need to discuss, and seeing as how you need a shower anyway, we can do both back at my place."

*

Harry reflected on Remus' words as he Apparated to Grimmauld Place and realised that he should have made the connection to what his 'place' was and the former headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. Being back here was difficult for Harry. The old, dreary exterior reflected his own feelings on returning to his godfather's house. Remus ushered Harry in with a gentle smile.

They entered the foyer and Harry could immediately tell that nothing had been cleaned in the year and a half since he'd last been there. "I had wanted to do this in a more congenial atmosphere, but the only other option was the Burrow, and -" Remus looked unaccountably nervous, rubbing his hands together, his eyes darting back and forth. Harry wondered what in the world could cause him to be so distracted.

"Let's sit in the kitchen, shall we?" Remus asked, clenching his hands together as if to keep them from shaking. "It's much brighter there than the rest of the house."

Sitting across from his guardian at the worn wooden table, Harry tried to make eye contact but it was a futile effort. Remus stuttered and stammered as he attempted to say something, and the mere fact that he was so flummoxed made Harry stare harder. "Whatever it is, Remus, you'd best get it off your chest. Merlin knows you've already laid enough of a bombshell on me this year."

Remus sighed and finally looked at Harry. "I know. You'd think I'd be able to just tell you...." He started to mutter something, but Harry only caught bits and snatches of it. "...kill Padfoot for leaving me to do this...should have known it would come down to me...not remotely qualified..."

After a few more minutes, a few quiet curses, and belaboured sigh, Remus seemed to collect himself enough to begin.

"All right. I'm ready." Harry smiled encouragingly and Remus continued. "What do you know about...girls?" he asked as nonchalantly as he could.

Harry cursed inwardly. He should have guessed this would be what it was about. Remus was going to give him The Talk. Better him than Arthur Weasley, Harry thought. At least he would be spared the indignity of being given the details on his intended's anatomy from her father. Or worse yet, Uncle Vernon.... The mental image alone made Harry's lips pucker as if he'd sucked on a freshly cut lemon.

"Well," Harry began, coughing slightly to release a nervous bit of energy. "I've heard things...here and there. It's not like I'm completely ignorant, or anything."

Heat was rising in Harry's cheeks, but he fought it down. There wasn't anything to get worked up over, yet. Remus might just chicken out, after all.

"Yes, that is the sort of thing I'd expect, of course." Remus cleared his throat loudly and said, "But I was hoping to get a little more...in depth and technical about it. You see, as uncomfortable as this is - for both of us - there is a risk that being mis-informed on the subject could lead to even greater, um...discomfort...later."

"Oh," Harry replied. He tried to look like he knew what Remus was talking about, but in reality, he was thoroughly confused.

"So, perhaps you have some questions?" Remus paused and gave Harry a pleading smile. For some reason, however, Harry didn't feel like giving him anything to start out with. If Harry had to endure the talk, so did Remus.

"No, not really." Then, remembering an essay Hermione forced him to proof-read for Hagrid's class, he said, "Maybe you could start with pheromonal attraction techniques?" If it worked for Griffins, it should work for humans, right?

Remus blanched and then his mouth fell open. "What do you...? How...?"

Harry let him blabber on for a second longer, and then said, "Just joking. Look, it's not like either of us are experts on the subject..."

"Excuse me," Remus said, as if he was affronted at the idea of not being an expert, but Harry kept going.

"But we're both guys, and I know a little bit about kissing and...stuff." Harry had never really planned on getting The Talk from anyone, so he was determined to make this one as short and non-descript as possible. "I mean, it's not like you've got loads of experience or anything."

Remus pinned Harry with his hardest stare and with clearly enunciated words, said, "My experience is not germane to this discussion, Harry. I assure you that I am fully qualified to address this topic. What is at issue here is the fact that in about a week, you're going to be compelled to successfully perform certain acts with Miss Weasley. While you may think you know enough to get you by, I can guarantee you that what I have to share with you tonight will do much more than just meet the minimum requirements."

Harry swallowed nervously and nodded his head in compliance, but indulged in an inward smile. He could see that Remus had passed over his own discomfort, allowing his teacher instincts to kick in.

"Now, if you're through insulting my love life, let's talk about - parts."

A chart was produced and Harry's face instantly flared. It was going to be difficult not to let his mind replace the moving diagrams with images of Ginny but he'd just have to do the best he could.

*

A large tub full of soapy clothes occupied Ginny's morning after Harry left. Her mum was once again off running errands, which -- Ginny was growing more and more aware -- were all wedding-related, and would likely be gone for most of the day. Ron and Hermione were taking advantage of the lack of supervision, and had gone walking around the village, something Ginny had pegged for her next date with Harry. She suspected her brother was planning on more snogging than walking, but took consolation in the fact that Hermione had brought her book bag. One sure thing about Ron dating Hermione was that his homework was always going to be done, done well, and on time.

Ginny blew a piece of hair from her face as she poked her washing stick into the magically-churning tub to make sure the agitation cycle didn't chew up her robes. Harry was with Tonks for some mystery meeting that everyone but her seemed to know about. It wasn't that Ginny was jealous that Harry was keeping a secret from her - she had certainly kept her fair of secrets - it was the feeling that time was increasingly scarce and as far as she was concerned, any time away from Harry this week was time wasted.

Two identical pops announced the twins' arrival in the kitchen. Ginny heard them open the cold pantry and begin to rummage through for food.

Leaving the clothes to sit before the rinse cycle, Ginny peeked around the door, saying, "What are you two up to?"

Fred and George froze for a long second before closing the pantry and facing her. "Nothing, nothing at all, dear sister," Fred said with far too much vehemence. "Just nicking some lunch."

"Care to make us some sandwiches?" George asked as they sat at the table. "We're starved."

Ginny narrowed her eyes and walked fully into the kitchen. "I'm not your mother, so you can make your ruddy sandwiches yourself."

"That's nice," Fred said. "Reckon Harry'll get the same treatment, George?"

"Knowing her, he'd better plan on making all his own sandwiches, or he's bound to get hexed for thinking about asking her," George replied.

Stopping in front of her brothers, Ginny crossed her arms and gave them both calculating stares. "And just what are you really up to? You're not fooling me for a second with all this sandwich talk. I know what pre-prank planning looks like when I see it."

Fred and George looked at each other before Fred smiled. "Ginny, Ginny, Ginny. What makes you think we're here to prank anyone? You know we don't eat well at the shop."

"And Mum's made it clear she wants us to come here for a bite from time to time," George added.

Still suspicious, Ginny uncrossed her arms and pointed a finger at them both. "If Harry's pranked a single time by either of you, I'll hex you faster than you can say Canary Cream. Do you understand me?"

Fred and George swallowed and nodded. "We wouldn't dream of hurting Ickle Harrykins. Now that he's your husband-to-be...."

"Good," Ginny pronounced. "Now make your sandwiches and get back to your shop before I hex you on general principle."

Ginny turned and stomped back to the laundry, while Fred and George mumbled to themselves.

"Ungrateful, that's what she is."

"Spitting image of Mum. Hate to see how she treats her kids if she treats us like that."

With a sigh and a shake of her head, Ginny listened to them banter as they ate. She loved her brothers dearly, but sometimes, they just didn't know when to quit. She and Harry had enough to bother with and didn't need to be watching their backs at every turn just because they felt it to be their duty to prank every boy she'd ever dated. Ginny smiled at her thoughts - maybe some pre-emptive pranking would be a good idea for her afternoon with Harry.

With the clothes spinning in the tub, Ginny began to fold the load that had finished drying while she was in the kitchen. As the pile slowly dwindled and the next load went into the drying cauldron, Ginny began to formulate a plan - starting with her eldest sibling.

*

Materializing in the Burrow's front parlour, Harry shook his head at the simplicity of Apparition. Faster than Floo, more flexible than a Portkey, it was no wonder that Harry loved to travel that way.

Remus' talk with Harry had lasted far longer than either of them had planned, leaving him with no time for a much-needed shower. What started out as an awkward, furtive discussion, ended up being one of the highlights of the day. Remus had treated him with respect and trust, while Harry became genuinely interested in making his first time with Ginny more than a perfunctory performance.

When Harry turned to walk up the stairs, he came face to face with Ginny.

"Oh, Harry," she said haltingly and flung herself onto him.

Harry became suddenly nervous as she clung to him and he found himself doing a marginally better job at consoling her than he had done last time. When she pulled away, Harry looked down to see her eyelashes moist.

"What's the matter, Ginny?" he asked sincerely. "Has something happened?"

Ginny gave a watery laugh. "Everything's fine. Well," she amended, "unless you count the gits I call my brothers."

Sensing that she wasn't expecting a comment, Harry let her continue. "They showed up this afternoon to help themselves to lunch, but then they went upstairs and I haven't seen them since." She looked up to Harry and touched his cheek. "I know they're planning on pranking you somehow. I just wish they'd leave us alone - to let us get to know each other better - without the distraction."

Relieved that her concerns were so simple to fix, Harry took in a deep breath and said, "Ginny, I know your brothers are a little...boisterous at times." She giggled a little at this and Harry continued. "But I don't have a problem with them pranking me. It's actually sort of an honour - a rite of passage into the family."

Ginny's eyes were shining again as she gazed up at him. "You really believe that?"

"Of course," Harry said, and gave her shoulders a reassuring pat. "Besides, it's not like I'm going to let them get away with anything."

Ginny smiled, a conniving, almost-wicked smile that Harry knew was reflected on his own face. "So the only question is..." he said, deliberately leaving the sentence dangling.

"How do we do it?" Ginny finished for him. "I've already got a plan on how to deal with Bill and Charlie."

"Oh?" Harry asked, very interested in discovering how Ginny's mind worked.

"Yes," Ginny answered, then leaned towards Harry and sniffed. "But you smell like a changing room. You better get showered before Mum comes home and thinks you've been playing Quidditch all day. We'll work out the details when you get finished."

"That, I can do." Then without really thinking, he leaned down and planted a kiss on her cheek.

She sucked in a breath as Harry walked past her, all-too aware of their close proximity in the cramped stairwell. Fighting a flush of pleasure at the contact, Harry inched past her, then hurried to the topmost bedroom to fetch a new set of clothes. With a pair of jeans, a loose-fitting shirt and underwear tucked under his arm, he proceeded back down to the only loo in the house.

*

After her encounter with Harry on the stairs, Ginny returned to the kitchen and started preparing for dinner. Mum had left instructions for her to remove the freezing charms on several cuts of beef so they could begin to thaw, then to bake some fresh rolls.

With the meat warming in a spot of sunlight under the window by the sink, Ginny went to the dry pantry for the flour, salt, and yeast. She cleaned a spot on the table with a soapy rag, making sure to wipe all the soap off, and then sprinkled the area with a liberal amount of flour.

As she started to mix the dough, she heard water creaking through the pipes and knew that Harry was showering. Thoughts of a naked Harry in the same shower she had used every day of her at-home life - water cascading down his body, his arms raised to lather shampoo into his hair - sent shivers up her spine. She started humming to herself to keep from getting too caught up in that mental image.

Ginny's hands were deep into the dough, kneading in the last of the flour when she heard a high-pitched squeal followed by a thunder of feet on the stairs and a door slamming from somewhere above her head - where the twins room was located. She narrowed her eyes and formed the bread into a ball, then threw a towel over it.

As she came up the stairs, she didn't hear the water running, but did hear someone stammering something from the loo. "G-G-G-G-in-n-n-n-n-y," said Harry in a halting voice.

"Harry?" she asked tentatively, putting a hand up to the door. "Are you all right?"

"C-C-C-C-o-o-l-d," came Harry's stuttering reply.

"Hold on," Ginny said. "I'm coming in."

She opened the door and saw that Harry was still in the shower. The normal steam on the mirror was absent and she wondered if he had just run out of hot water. Then she saw, through a gap in the curtain, that the taps were full on, but a line of ice was attached to the shower head.

"Harry, I'm going to pull back the curtain." She thought she heard him mumble an 'okay' and with a tentative pull on the material, she drew it back to reveal Harry, completely encased in a sheet of ice. He was huddled in the corner away from the shower head and positioned perfectly so she didn't see anything she hadn't seen on her brothers before. And speaking of her brothers...

Ginny grabbed Harry's wand from the countertop and shoved it into his partially-freed hand. "Cast an ice-breaking charm, Harry. I've got to take care of something."

She turned around and bolted out the door, up the stairs and began pounding on the twins' door. "Let me in this instant, you insensitive, miserable morons!"

There was no answer behind their locked door. In a fit of raw magic, Ginny forced the door open. It tore off the hinges, raining splinters of wood across the messy floor and clattered against one of the beds. Up against the far wall, Fred and George stared at their sister, eyes wide and afraid.

"It wasn't our fault!" George yelled immediately.

"You're telling me that you did nothing to Harry's shower?" Ginny asked, her hands on her hips, her voice quivering in anger.

"Well, not directly," Fred hedged. "We did cast a small freezing spell."

"But it was set to only go off under a certain set of circumstances," George amended.

When Ginny didn't blow up immediately, Fred continued, "It was Harry's fault, really. Only he could set off the hex. It's not our fault that he couldn't keep his mind out of the gutter."

Pointing a finger at Fred, she bore down on him. "What - Did - You - Do?"

"It wasn't anything that Mum hasn't done to one of us," said George. "Remember when she did that to Charlie about seven years ago? Right after she caught him with a copy of Playwizard magazine in his room?"

"What did you do?" Ginny repeated.

"H-He had to be thinking about a naked girl to set off the hex, Ginny."

Reeling back towards the broken door, Ginny shook her head. Harry had been thinking about a girl, a naked girl? In the shower? She reviewed the nature of the hex that both of them suffered from as a result of the arranged marriage and concluded that he wouldn't be able to safely entertain any amorous thoughts about any girl except...her.

A new wave of fury welled inside her as she regarded her brothers. "If you think I'm going to let you get away with this...this ridiculous display of immaturity, you've got another think coming!"

Her hand shot up, coloured sparks flying from her fingertips. She began blasting at each of them. Fred's arms turned into tentacles and his face contorted into that of a monkey's while George dived behind one of their beds. She finished with Fred, then leapt onto the bed itself and proceeded to transfigure George's legs into a fishtail and apply engorging and shrinking charms to the rest of his body.

Satisfied, Ginny walked down to the bathroom to sort out Harry, wondering how she was going to defrost her intended while keeping her own thoughts cool enough to avoid being shot across the room.

*

The ice-breaking charm was inherently difficult for Harry to perform - seeing as how he could hardly pronounce the spell while his teeth chattered like a charmed nutcracker. Still, after a few tries, he was able to clear away most of the ice and turn off the taps. Naked, shivering, and with aching muscles, Harry covered himself in a towel while the sounds of yelping and yelling reached his ears.

Someone pounded down the stairs and stopped in the open doorway, just as Harry turned to see who it was.

"Oh, Harry," Ginny said soothingly. "I'm so sorry about those idiots. I knew they were up to something, but I didn't realise they would attack your shower. Then they told me about how the curse was activated and..."

She stopped suddenly and her face turned an attractive pink. "Well, never mind about that. Let's get you warmed up, shall we?"

Harry nodded shakily and pulled his towel tighter. "S-Still...n-naked," he said.

"Yes," Ginny replied, rubbing her hands up and down his arms. "I can see that."

"C-C-Clothes," Harry blurted, nodding towards the pile next to the vanity.

Ginny gave him an odd sort of look and, with a wicked smile, said, "You want me to dress you?"

"G-G-Go!" he managed to say, then, at her stricken look, added, "W-Wait for m-m-me outside."

Still looking peeved, Ginny stomped out of the loo and closed the door.

With a phenomenal effort, Harry pulled on his clothes, still shivering like mad, then opened the door.

Ginny was sulking in the hallway and refused to look at him. Harry touched her shoulder and she jerked it away. "S-S-Sorry," he stammered out. "For s-s-snapping."

With a sigh, Ginny turned around to face him, pulling him into an embrace. She was so warm - he couldn't help but pull her tighter to him in an attempt to fight off his lingering chills. "I know it's not your fault, Harry," she said into his chest. "I'm just mad at the twins, and worried about you, and...a little scared."

Harry frowned as he rested his chin on her head, feeling the shivers melt away as they hugged. "Scared? About what?" he asked.

Ginny pulled away from him and wiped at her eyes. "Just.... All of this," she said with a sweep of her hands. "The whole idea that we're being forced into this marriage, and..."

"Shh," Harry said soothingly. He took her by the shoulders and caught her eye. "Forget that we're going to be married for a minute. Forget about the hex and about all the pressure. Then ask yourself one question: Do you want to be with me?

A smile crooked on her face as she regarded him, and then she nodded. "Yes, Harry. I do, very much."

Warmth flooded into his veins under Ginny's penetrating stare, banishing all vestiges of the twins' prank. "We'd better make the most of it, then."

August 4

Arriving at Gringotts the next morning, Harry and Ginny immediately walked towards a set of offices on the second floor marked 'International Division'. Ginny led them to a back corner that resembled an open-air bazaar, with its festive décor and multi-coloured flags. Stopping at a desk painted in blue, white and red, Harry was shocked to see a familiar blonde witch sitting on the other side.

"Ginny, 'arry," exclaimed Fleur Delacour. She slapped a stack of papers onto her desk and stood to great them. "What a pleasant surprise."

Harry was impressed. "Your English has improved, Fleur. You must have had an excellent tutor."

As Fleur kissed him on both cheeks, he briefly wondered why her Veela charms were having such a weak effect on him. He shrugged it off. He'd never been as affected by her aura of attraction the way Ron had been suckered from time to time.

"My tutor started by teaching me some things that cannot be repeated in front of such innocent people as yourselves." Her smile flashed in the dim light of the office and Harry knew that if other men been in her presence, they would be drooling at the sight of it.

"Well," Ginny remarked, as she, too, received a kiss on each cheek, "I think you've done a marvellous job despite all the distractions my brother posed for you."

Fleur laughed. "Yes, well, he can be a bit of a handful."

"Speaking of which," Ginny said, looking around as if to make sure no one was listening, "I wonder if I might ask you something. Watch the desk, Harry, while Fleur and I have a little girl-to-girl chat."

"Oi," Harry said, using the only French word he knew, and watched the girls walk behind a small partition that was obviously used for private conferences.

Their twittering voices were light and airy at first, though Harry could only make out a word here and there. As he glanced around the office, pretending to be interested in the inner workings of the Wizarding world's largest bank, the voices behind the partition grew more urgent, until he heard a gasp of surprise followed by a string of what could only be French.

A moment later, with Fleur at her heels, Ginny reappeared, holding a set of keys and a small slip of parchment.

"Neither of us will be at the flat tonight, Ginny," Fleur explained with a slight giggle. "Feel free to take as much time as you like. Au revior."

With a mischievous smile on her face, Ginny practically skipped out of the offices and onto the main floor of the bank.

Harry watched her appraisingly, appreciating the way her shoulders were set as she walked down the hall. "So when are you going to let me in on your master plan, O Great One?"

Ginny jingled the keys teasingly in front of him and said, "All in good time, Mr. Potter. Do you think you could Apparate the two of us to a set of coordinates?"

Taken by surprise, Harry shook his head. "I'm not sure if that's wise. My Apparation classes talked about it, but said that only a really powerful wizard could do it under the best of circumstances."

"The thing is," Ginny said slowly, "if we can't Apparate, we have to take Muggle transportation all the way to South London - he doesn't have a Floo connection. We wouldn't be back until late."

Harry knew what she was referring to. One of the conditions of their outing today was that they be home in time for dinner. It wasn't that Mrs. Weasley didn't trust them, as much as that she wanted them to be accountable during their courtship. Harry understood and made it a matter of honour to bring Ginny back safe by dinner.

"All right," Harry said at length. "But if we get splinched, I'm telling your mother it was your idea."

Ginny beamed and threaded her arm into his as they walked to the Apparation point in the bank's lobby. Harry read the coordinates. "This is in Muggle London, Ginny. Are you sure we can Apparate there?"

"Fleur said it was on the balcony of his flat, and that the keys were for the back door," Ginny explained. "We could try the front door, but Bill's got it charmed so that only he and Fleur can open it."

Harry let out a low whistle. "Is he a little paranoid, do ya think?"

With a laugh, Ginny said, "Probably thinks it's standard to hex an entryway fifty times from seeing it done so often in those ruddy Pyramids."

"Well, let's just hope the back way isn't hexed, too, and he just didn't tell Fleur about it."

Ginny laughed again, but it took on a much more sinister quality. "When we're done, Harry, Bill'll be lucky to slither out of his flat the next time he goes home."

With a raised eyebrow, Harry looked at the coordinates one more time, then concentrated a little more than usual, let his magic build up twice as much as normal, them released it into the spell. With a loud crack, they were gone.

*

Having never Apparated before, Ginny was excited to be Harry's first passenger. She knew that it was uncommon for anyone to use dual Apparation, but she also knew that Harry was an extremely powerful wizard and that if anyone could do it, he could.

So it was quite anti-climactic for them to end up on Bill's balcony, with all four of their feet in potted plants.

"That's lovely," Ginny remarked, and then pulled her feet from the hydrangeas. Her trainers were covered in wet soil and she shook them until dirt was flung everywhere on the wooden flooring.

"Ginny," Harry said slowly. "I could just clean them off for you."

Ginny froze, one leg in mid-shake and looked up to Harry - then burst into laughter. "Yes," she said after a moment. "I suppose that would be more efficient, wouldn't it?"

Harry sighed, pointed his wand and muttered, "Scourgify," at each of their shoes, then at the balcony's floor for good measure.

With their shoes clean and their bodies intact, Ginny extracted the slip of parchment Fleur had given her and began to tap on the French doors in a series of complicated patterns. When the doors clicked open, she knew she'd done it right.

"Let's go," Ginny said, and led Harry inside the flat.

Harry flicked the Muggle light switch and a half-dozen recessed lights flared overhead. Ginny had been here once before, when Bill had first moved back to London to help with the Order, and knew that they would have to avoid the front entryway at all costs. However, her plans didn't include the entryway - Bill would expect a trap there. No, Ginny headed right for the bedroom.

As they walked over the threshold, Ginny noticed at least two weeks' worth of dirty laundry on the floor in messy piles. His chest of drawers was open and had clothes spilling out of it onto the floor, mingling with the dirty ones.

"How does he know what's clean and what's dirty?" Ginny wondered out loud.

"I don't think he cares too much," Harry replied. "I'd wager his uh, 'flat mate' would be more concerned than him, though."

Ginny looked up to Harry, wondering what he was talking about - Bill was living alone, as far as she knew - and saw Harry holding in a laugh, pointing a finger at a pair of silk knickers. They were much racier than Ginny ever wore - pink with bits of lace around the edges - and were currently dangling from the bedpost.

"Blimey," Ginny said. "Do you think they're..."

"Fleur's?" Harry finished for her. "They'd better be, for Bill's sake, anyway."

Ginny giggled into her hand and walked over to where they hung provocatively, as if there purposely to tease them. "I dunno," she said as she hooked a finger through one of the legs and twirled them around. "Don't they look a little small for Fleur?"

Harry gulped loudly. "I wouldn't know the first thing about girl's knickers, Ginny."

"Oh, come on," Ginny pressed. "You can't tell me you haven't thought about...that before."

The flush that crept onto Harry's face was worth every bit of payback she'd catch for teasing him, but to his credit, he didn't lose his composure in any other way.

"Well," he finally said. "I have, strictly speaking. But it's not like the hex makes it worth much."

Ginny pondered that for a second and put the knickers back on their perch. The fun of teasing him was replaced by an honest curiosity. "What's it like for you? The hex, I mean."

Harry picked his way through the messy room and sat on the bed. He looked at one of the piles of laundry for so long, she thought maybe he wasn't going to answer her. "It's horrible, really. When I was living with my aunt, I didn't exactly have a lot of opportunity for...you know, fantasies of that sort. I was mostly caught up with dreams of hexing them, or escaping, or living with...your family."

Ginny sat down next to him and placed her hand on the small of his back. He seemed to lose some of his tension and continued. "When I started Hogwarts, the only real girl I knew was Hermione, and, well...let's face it - fantasies about her usually involved a stack of books and a stern lecture about proper procedures."

Goggling at Harry, Ginny exclaimed, "You had fantasies about Hermione?"

Harry jumped a little at her declaration and gave her a wide-eyed glare. "I'm a bloke, Ginny. I suppose the only girls I didn't think about at Hogwarts were Winky, Professor Trelawny, Madam Pince and Professor McGonagall. I had fantasies about almost every girl in Gryffindor," he said defensively. "You know what blokes are like! It's not like I asked Lavender or," he shuddered, "Parvati to come prancing through my head. When I was asleep things were fairly normal, but when I was awake, I'd run the risk of tripping the hexes, only I didn't know it at the time. The one time I did -er- actively think about someone like that...well, the first time," he amended, pushing his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose, "I had a very bad experience - it was like a barrel of ice water had been dumped on my head. I thought I was...I dunno, broken or something - judging by the way Seamus and Dean carried on, anyway."

Unable to contain her mirth, Ginny leaned into Harry's shoulder and giggled uncontrollably.

"What?" Harry demanded, with a wounded voice. "Did you ask that just to laugh at me?"

Suddenly not feeling like laughing, Ginny looked up and saw a frown on his lips. "Oh, Harry," she soothed, gently rubbing her hand up and down his back. "I wasn't trying to make fun of you. I was honestly curious - I had the same thing happen to me, but...mine was a little bit more embarrassing."

Harry's eyes softened and then a twinkle appeared in them. "It couldn't be. You know you have to tell me now that you've mentioned it, don't you?" He shifted over on the bed until their hips were touching, and then turned slightly to face her properly.

"Is that right?" Ginny asked cockily, but she was secretly nervous by his proximity. "I-I have to?"

"It's only fair, you know." His face loomed closer to hers now and Ginny was certain he could hear her heart beating, it was so loud in her ears.

"Only...fair," she repeated, letting her eyes flutter closed.

The bed shifted and when she opened her eyes, he was standing away from her, facing the adjoining loo. "You never did tell me what happened between you and Dean."

Bereft and a little peeved at herself for expecting him to kiss her, Ginny stood and walked around to face him. "Nothing happened - well...at first." She pulled her hair back into a messy bun and shoved her wand into it. "We were snogging a little in the broom closet by the portrait of Ignatia Wildsmith, and things got a little...involved and.... Harry," she said suddenly, "I've only really kissed two boys before, and you have to understand that Michael wasn't the most experienced, so we never really got much past...standard kissing."

Harry blanched a little. "You mean?"

Ginny nodded. "When we were in the closet, Dean began to undo the buttons on my blouse as he tried to French kiss me, and he was...sort of...uh, blown out of the closet and onto Mrs. Norris."

They stared at each other for a second, standing in her brother's bedroom, surrounded by piles of dirty laundry and a pair of dangling knickers, and began to snigger. Harry cracked first, and then when Ginny remembered the terrified look on the poor cat's face, she couldn't hold it in any longer. Soon, they were hanging off each other in desperation, trying not to fall onto the floor.

"So that's what happened to him," Harry finally blurted. "I thought he said he was hexed by a gang of Slytherins...but that was at the same time you and he broke up."

"Exactly," Ginny confirmed. "But I'm afraid it was just little Ginny Weasley that landed him in the hospital wing."

Harry gave another low chuckle and then shook his head. "So, Miss Weasley," he said, holding out his hand to her. "Shall we proceed with pranking your oldest brother?"

Ginny took his hand and smiled. "I think we should. You've got the wand, I've got the brilliant plan."

Ginny explained in detail the layered series of charms and hexes that she wanted to bind onto her brother. At first Harry looked confused, but he soon got the big picture, and admiration for her cunning, devious mind - not to mention her skill at spell weaving - clearly grew tremendously. Setting to work, they began to weave a series of pranks that no normal mind would ever consider in combination - certainly not for the purpose of revenge on an overbearing, nosey brother. Bill was doomed.