Growing Up Weasley

Chapter 3. Girl Talk

Dinner had been a strange affair, in Ginny's eyes. Harry kept stealing glances at her when he thought she wasn't looking (which was silly, considering she was sitting across from him, and across the plate of rolls from him). Ron and Hermione were carrying on some sort of flirtation that included a dozen little arguments - which both of them seemed to be enjoying immensely. Ginny's parents were dividing their time between listening to Bill talk about his new digs in Rome and casting worried glances down the table to Harry and Ginny. It was quite normal for them to worry about Harry - everyone worried about Harry, even though he'd managed to face down Voldemort at least four times and outwit Snape and Filch for the past five years. But now they were obviously worrying about Ginny, too. She wondered why. It wasn't like she'd gotten mixed up in any dark magic since her run-in with Tom Riddle four years ago. In fact, it was just the opposite. She had the best marks in her year in transfiguration and (much to Ron's everlasting disgust) potions.

All things considered, Ginny hadn't been able to enjoy her plum pudding. She thought she should confront her parents about whatever was worrying them, but she had never been one to do that. Hmm...maybe she'd ask Hermione about it later. She always knew everything.

After the meal was cleared away, though, things seemed to get better. Bill and Charlie started one last pick-up game of Quidditch before they left, and soon there were six brooms in the air (Percy, of course, had far more important things to do). Ginny happily went to get her broom, but Charlie stopped her. "Sorry, Gin. It's likely to get a bit rough. Better stay with Mum and Hermione."

There were a number of replies she could have given to that, but Harry was there first. "It's okay, Charlie. Ginny can be on our team. I'll play beater."

At this, Ginny flushed bright red. Charlie looked at her with a knowing grin, but said only, "Alright, Harry. If you think it's a good idea." Harry nodded, and Ginny's heart soared. Sometimes, she thought, chivalry was a good thing. She mounted her broom, and with Harry flew toward the middle of the field where the Weasley boys played, well protected from muggle eyes.

Ron and Bill, however, balked at Ginny playing Quidditch with them. "It makes the teams uneven," was Bill's reasoning, while Ron went right for the predictable argument of "fragile," and "protect," and a hundred other typically male reasons to keep her from playing. Fred and George, who usually sided with Ginny when it came to Quidditch, this time agreed with Bill. Harry didn't speak up again. Knowing when she was beaten, Ginny angrily turned her broom back toward the house. She'd show them. This year was a rebuilding year for the Gryffindor house team, and she was determined to get on that team and show all her brothers up.

For now, though, she figured she had to settle for kitchen chat with her mum and Hermione. Just outside the kitchen, though, she thought she heard her name. She had no qualms about eavesdropping.

"I really should have invited Ginny along, Mrs. Weasley. She would have loved the Riviera. I feel a bit badly for not having though of it earlier."

"Nonsense, Hermione. You were a guest yourself. Don't give it another thought."

Nothing too terribly informative. They were just talking about Hermione's trip, Ginny thought, and stepped through the door.

Molly looked up and, recognizing the look of disappointment on her only daughter's face, got up to fix another cup of tea. "They wouldn't let you play?" she asked.

Ginny pouted. She knew she was acting like a baby, but she loved Quidditch, and she knew that she was good. "It isn't fair, Mum," she said, stomping her foot in a childish bout of temper. "They never let me play. 'Too many people, Gin.' 'Too rough for you, sister dear,'" she mimicked. "'No, Ginny. You belong in a glass case. Quidditch isn't a game for ladies. You might muss your hair or tear your dress or, heaven forbid, break a nail.'" She groaned her frustration as she sat down in the offered chair and wrapped her hands around the comforting warmth of a fresh cuppa. Her mum made the best tea. "At least Harry was willing to let me play," she muttered, sipping the sweet nectar of home and hearth.

Hermione, who'd also been sipping her tea, choked and spat it out. "Harry?" she asked, wide-eyed. A knowing grin began to spread across her face. "Well," she said with a smile. "Well." And she turned back to her tea.

Molly looked worried again. "Ginny, dear," she began. Ginny looked up. Already the tea was making her feel a bit better. Her temper had passed. It made her wonder if her mother put something in the tea.

It was possible, Ginny knew. Molly had her own talent with potions and elixirs. She'd been a mediwitch in her day. Ginny decided she'd ask later. "Yes, Mum?"

"Now I don't want you to take this in the wrong way, but...I don't think it's a good idea for you to - " she leaned heavily on the next word, hoping to imbue it with all kinds of meaning, "see - Harry." Both Ginny and Hermione stared at Molly, eyes wide with disbelief. "He's Ron's friend, after all. And it could make things awkward for all of you at school. And here. I'd hate for him to have to fend off six overprotective brothers. Harry needs all the friends he can find now, and it would be a terrible thing if he were to lose some of his friends because of - well, because of..." She broke off that stream of thought and paddled into new waters. "And your father and I worry about you, Ginny. Harry's a fine young man, but, well, trouble seems to follow him wherever he goes. We'd hate to see you mixed up in that. Again."

This last was added so softly, Ginny wondered if she'd only heard the word echo in her own mind.

"Mum."

"Now, Ginny, I just want you to think about what I've said," Molly interrupted. "Just -"

"Mum!" This time Ginny practically shouted. Her mother looked at her across the small table, astonishment mingled with disapproval in her eyes. Ginny clenched her jaw. This was madness! Not to mention unfair. Her mother was worried about her dating Harry? That was why her parents had been so unhappy at dinner? That was why they kept watching her? Because they thought she was seeing Harry? Harry, who'd never given her a thought other than when he saved her life in the Chamber of Secrets her first year? Harry, who was still pining after Cho Chang? No, no matter what Hermione said, it was impossible. "Mum, I am not seeing Harry. That's just...silly." Her mother raised her eyebrows, as if wondering just how silly the idea really was, given Ginny's past adoration. "Mum. Really. I've gotten over my crush. I can't believe you'd bring it up again. I'm fifteen, not ten. And you know Harry. He's Ron's friend. Not mine."

"Well..."

"And even if I was...seeing him..." she tried not to blush, "I'm not the same idiot I was when I was eleven. I can take care of myself, you know. "I have the best marks in my year."

"Ginny," Molly began gently.

"Besides, what about Ron? If you want to worry about one of your children's love life, worry about his. How is he ever going to measure up to Hermione?" With that, Ginny sipped calmly at her tea while Hermione choked again and turned bright red under Molly's mother hen gaze. Take that, Ginny thought, pleased to have the heat off her.

For some time, Ginny just listened. Rather than go on the warpath for her youngest son, Molly talked seriously with Hermione. Quickly enough, Ron wasn't even part of the discussion, as Molly and Hermione were caught up in a good-natured mother-daughter chat. Ginny got up and poured herself another cup of tea. Sometimes, she thought, you could learn a lot more if people forgot you were there.

Much later, long after the sun had set and the moon shone brightly, six tired and bedraggled Weasley men and Harry returned to the house, worn out and happy in that way only boys were after a particluarly grueling few hours of activity. Hermione was helping Molly tidy up in the kitchen. Percy had gone to sleep - "Must be up early to get into the office," he informed his father gravely. Arthur, however, was still awake, tinkering with one of the hundreds of muggle gadgets in the shed. Ginny was curled up in front of the fire, reading about yet another strong-yet-unsavory woman, Moll Flanders.

As the boys trooped through the house, Molly came out and clucked at them for tracking dirt through her house. Bill just picked up his mother in a great bear hug and laughed. The twins chanted something about "I see London, I see France," until Charlie and Ron managed to silence them. Harry just laughed and cautiously took off his shoes at the front door. Because of this, he was a bit behind the rest of them and happened to see Ginny, curled up in her long flannel nightie and dressing gown, totally immersed in her book.

"What're you reading?" he asked.

Ginny's head shot up, and when she saw Harry, she smiled. She hadn't taken any of her mother's warnings seriously and was just glad it wasn't Fred or George asking - they would tease her without mercy if they found her reading Moll Flanders. She showed Harry the book.

"What, no Gadding With Ghouls?" he asked, taking a seat in the lumpy chair opposite her. Ginny narrowed her eyes, and Harry laughed.

He has a nice laugh, she thought. Then she thought it was good to see him laughing again. For awhile, after the Triwizard Tournament and Cedric Diggory's death and everything, it seemed that Harry might never really laugh again. Ginny was glad to hear it. "It's, well, it's about a prostitute, actually," she told him, turning a bit pink. Harry just stared at her, and this time she laughed. Just a little bit. "It's a classic, Harry." She shook her head. "Sometimes I wonder how you and Ron can spend so much time around Hermione and not pick up anything. Honestly."

"I read," he protested.

"Quidditch Through the Ages hardly counts as classic literature, Harry," she answered. "Though it is rather interesting," she admitted.

He laughed again. "You don't mean you've read it?"

"Of course I have! It's upstairs in my room right now. Charlie gave it to me for my birthday when I was six. Mum yelled at him, because he bought it more for himself than for me, but I've read it about a hundred times since." She gave him a crooked little smile. "I have to know my stuff if I want to get on the house team this year." Pause. "I mean to get on the house team, Harry. I know you're the captain now, and I'm not trying to curry favor or anything, but I'm the best beater you'll have, now that Fred and George are gone. You have to let me try out, Harry," she pleaded. "Even if my brothers think I can't play such a dangerous sport," her voice now dripped with sarcasm, "I think they're just afraid I'll beat them."

Harry sat back, and Ginny wondered if maybe she was a little bit too passionate. But then he said, "Well, I think you can play. If you like, we can get in some practice before we go back to Hogwarts. Ron'll understand."

"Really?" Ginny erupted out of her seat and across the hearth to Harry, and gave him a great, lung-squeezing hug. "You are brilliant, Harry!" And, without a thought, gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. Then she was gone, a gloriously happy white-flannel spectre racing up the stairs to her oddly-angled room, leaving a thoroughly bemused Harry behind in the darkened living room.