Mrs. Weasley's Sugar Pills

"Your brother really is a PRAT!" whispered Hermione fiercely. Ginny looked at her in surprise. Hermione took a large swig of Elfish wine from her goblet, a look of anger and anguish on her face. Hermione really looked lovely tonight, but she was ruining the effect by hanging her head so that her hair, which Ginny had spent several effort-filled hours straightening, hung over her face. Hermione leaned on the bar by which the two girls were standing, with her back to the rest of the gathering.

The bars for the reception were set up at the very fringes of the reception area, at three strategic points, with the bandstand making the fourth point of a square drawn between them. The dance floor was at the center of the reception area, and the circular banquet tables were arrayed between the dance floor and the perimeter created by the bars.

Presently, Ginny was standing with Hermione at the bar that was located the closest to the table at which Ron and Harry were stationed. Ginny and Hermione were waiting for three drinks Hermione had ordered for herself and Harry and Ron. Harry and Ron had not moved since the dinner had been served and both boys were sitting with their backs to the bar where Hermione and Ginny were standing twenty feet away. They had their arms resolutely folded across their chests, surveying the dance floor morosely.

"Gits!" thought Ginny. She looked at Harry when she thought it.

"I mean he just sat there and ate and ate. He won't say two words to me, Ginny," Hermione whispered again, looking at Ginny plaintively.

Ginny replied, "Did you tell him Krum would be here?"

Hermione looked a bit abashed and said simply, "No."

"Well that explains it," said Ginny with a shrug.

Hermione winced with a guilty expression on her face.

Ginny cast a furtive glance at Harry. Harry looked so handsome in his dark black dress robes, with his unruly hair actually tamed for once. He had seemed to get taller in the last month, too, and stronger looking, though not quite as tall or as big as Ron. Ron had been exercising like a madman since the end of last term, and he was starting to look muscular. Harry, however, seemed more like a piece of strong thin metal wire. He was hard and whip-quick.

"Ginny, you there?" Hermione said softly.

Ginny shook her head to bring herself back to her present conversation. "Sorry, 'Mione. What were you saying?"

Hermione smiled at Ginny apologetically and said, "Here I am going on and on about your idiot brother and I haven't even paid any attention to your situation. Not a very good friend, am I?"

Ginny laughed, "You are a great friend. And there really is no situation to talk about, is there? It's over, isn't it?"

"Oh, I don't think it is as simple as all that. I bet he comes to talk to you before the end of the night."

Ginny made a thoughtful face. "I don't know."

Ginny could tell that Hermione's confidence would not be shaken. "Harry is not the sort to intentionally hurt anyone, including himself. I know him better than just about anyone, and he'll break down and come to you in some fashion tonight. After all, it's not like you two had a row and split up with bad blood."

"Well, it's 8:45 PM," Ginny said, casting a glance at her watch. "So that gives him a little under three hours."

"Plenty of time," said Hermione brightly.

Right then the barmaid arrived with the drinks Hermione had ordered. Hermione began gathering the drinks awkwardly into her hands, and Ginny cast another glance at Harry. He was looking at his feet now.

Ginny internally marveled at how Hermione could be so confident about the behavior of boys and what they would do, and so insightful into their maddeningly strange behavior. Hermione was usually right about them, too...except with Ron.

Hermione had always been at a loss to understand the youngest Weasley male. Even worse, Hermione had recently been a complete mess about Ron. Of course, Ginny's irascible brother was strange by anyone's estimation, but Hermione had been particularly ridiculous around him for a while.

"About since he was poisoned," thought Ginny.

"Well, I better get back to 'the world's longest conversation,'" said Hermione with a touch of irony. "You going to be alright?" Hermione looked concerned.

"Oh well, I'll be fine as long as my feet hold up," said Ginny with a grimace.

Hermione chuckled lightly. "Yes. I've noticed all the men in the Delacour family have kept you busy dancing since dinner ended. You are quite the dutiful hostess."

"Dutiful my arse!" said Ginny with a mischievous grin. "They are a handsome lot, aren't they? Must be the Veela blood."

Hermione adjusted the three drinks in her hands, nearly dropping her refilled goblet of wine.

"Yes," said Hermione distractedly, "and I bet they don't act like PRATS!"

"Well if Harry isn't smart enough to come and espouse his never-ending devotion," Ginny said fiercely, "at least I'll have some fun tonight."

Hermione smiled and said, "Well, he'll probably come and talk to you sooner, then."

"Yeah, well, I think I have danced enough for a while. Phlegm...I mean...Fleur's cousin Francois spent entirely too much time being heavy on my toes instead of being light on his own."

Hermione laughed and then swiveled her gaze towards Harry and Ron. She put a determined look on her face.

Ginny glanced at Harry, as well. "Um...Hermione..." began Ginny.

"I'll tell you if he mentions you, of course," said Hermione with an affectionate smile, and she made her way back towards her table with the recalcitrant boys.

Ginny watched Hermione sit down and saw Ron relax visibly. He looked like he was about to say something to Hermione, when Viktor Krum twirled into view dancing with one of the Delacour women. Ron immediately stiffened and slouched lower in his chair. Hermione looked at Ron sadly and slouched lower in her chair, as well. Harry was still looking at his feet.

As Ginny made her way around the edge of the dance floor, attempting to keep out of sight of any male Delacour, Ginny watched Viktor Krum as he danced with his partner. Krum appeared as graceful, competent and gentlemanly as ever as he lightly led the smiling part-Veela woman around the dance floor. For once, it looked like one of the Delacours was being entranced, as opposed to doing the entrancing. To some people, it would seem that Hermione must be a nutter to turn down a swashbuckling, handsome, and refined professional athlete like Krum in favor of Ron.

Ginny knew that Ron was brave, and a good and loyal friend. Ginny knew that Ron would do anything for Hermione. Ginny was sure that Ron was deeply in love with Hermione. Ron talked about Hermione more than he did Harry. And earlier this summer, in the few days before Hermione was scheduled to come to the Burrow, Ginny had actually seen Ron forego a couple of meals with mumbles about not being hungry. Imagine that! Ron not eating!

Also, Ginny was convinced that Ron's new fascination with getting himself physically fit was in some part motivated by his desire to impress Hermione. He certainly wasn't going to impress her with his spell work or any great mental acuity. If Ron had any mental acuity at all, he would have seen that Hermione was head over heels for him, too.

"And I bet," thought Ginny with not a small amount of loyalty and family pride, "that bloody Krum hasn't done half of what Ron has done in this war."

Ginny sighed. She hoped those two got it worked out at some point.

As Ginny cleared the dance floor the band started to play the old favorite, "The Doxie Dance," and people began crowding onto the dance floor for the fun. Ginny groaned.

"Do they have to play that song fifty times at every wedding?" she thought.

Ginny saw her parents standing near the garden path that led down to the lake. Her parents were immersed in conversation with Hermione's parents. Ginny smiled to herself and made her way towards them, still wary of any potential French dance partners. Ginny knew it was not likely that her father would let the Grangers out of his sight for the entire evening. He was so fascinated with Muggles!

As she sidled up next to her mother and gave the appropriately polite greetings to her parents as well as Mr. and Mrs. Granger, Ginny had the distinct feeling that someone was watching her. She turned slightly and saw Harry looking right at her. He quickly looked away at the bandstand again, but he had definitely been watching her. Ginny felt her heart flutter, and a little ember of hope burn. Perhaps Hermione would be right. Little surprise there.

Ginny turned towards her parents and caught her mother's eye. Her mother was looking at Ginny with a little smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Ginny's mum patted Ginny's arm, and turned her attention back to the conversation between Ginny's father and Mr. Granger.

Ginny stole another glance at Harry. Harry was now studying the bandstand.

"Git," she thought.

Having grown up with six older brothers, Ginny was used to people constantly trying to watch out for her. Add to that the fact that Ginny was the first girl to be born to a Weasley for as long as anyone could remember, and it amounted to a situation where just about everyone in her family tried to treat her as if she were made of spun glass. It infuriated her! All of these people, and of course she loved them all, were always treating her like she could not take care of herself.

Ron was the worst of them. He was barely a year older, and he acted like he had to protect her all of the time when the prat could barely take care of himself. True, she had always felt closest to Ron since they were the closest in age. But when the bungling fool tried to take care of her, he generally made a mess for her to sort out.

And now Harry, Ron's best friend, had taken on the mindset of the Weasley clan. Harry had split with Ginny to protect her. He had done it to be "noble."

It figured that Harry would have taken on the protective mindset of her family. Her mum had always treated Harry as a surrogate son, and her brothers (with the exception of Percy, sod him!) had taken to Harry like he was separated from the family at birth or something.

Of course, Harry had earned a place in the Weasley family, if anyone could. After all, over the last several years he had saved the lives of Ginny, Ginny's Dad and Ron. Through sheer quick wits, brains, courage and a little luck, he had earned a place at the Weasley table.

"He has certainly done more than Phlegm has," thought Ginny. "He should be more a part of our family than her."

Of course, Fleur was now a part of Ginny's family, and Ginny could grudgingly admit that she had started to like Fleur. It was hard not to like a girl who so casually dismissed Bill's disfigurement. Fleur loved Bill no matter what. That was obvious. Ginny respected that, and she wished the couple all of the best.

The only way Harry would ever truly be a member of the Weasley family would be if Ginny married him.

"Where did that come from?" thought Ginny as she studied Harry again.

As Ginny had suffered through her girlish crush on Harry during her first few years at Hogwarts, she had often imagined herself marrying Harry. Usually such fantasies involved him charging in to save her on a white horse, and swinging a muggle sword her father had shown her once.

But this last thought had been different.

Ginny had been infatuated with Harry since she was ten years old. Ginny had fancied him so much that she couldn't speak around him. It had been dreadful and foolish. It had been so bad that eventually Hermione had pulled Ginny aside and told Ginny to move on and see other people. Hermione had told Ginny that seeing other boys would make Harry realize Ginny was girl, and would probably peak Harry's interest. It took a couple of years, but Hermione had been correct, as usual.

Even now Ginny felt a rueful smile curl her lips when she thought about the foolishness of the crush she had suffered through. The smile widened as she thought of the moment that Harry had made the feelings of that crush feel insignificant.

When Harry had first kissed Ginny in the Gryffindor common room, Ginny had been sure she was dreaming. When she was little, Ginny had seen that moment in her mind's eye so often that she had felt as if she was suffering one of those old dreams again.

But it had been real. Harry had swept into the common room, big as life, and found out that they had won the Quidditch Cup. Ginny had run up to give him a friendly hug, and Harry had thrown his arms around her, as cool and confident and heroic as in one of her girlish fantasies. She had felt his mouth on hers before she could realize what was happening, and then all of those girlhood longings had rushed through her at once, and in a way she had never felt before.

She had felt charged with some enchantment and she thought sparks must have shot from her toes. He had been tender and strong and needy all at the same time. All in the few moments of a kiss, she had felt herself responding to him, and had felt her own need. All in those sweet, eternal and too-brief moments.

Thinking back to that now, and the month of longing since Harry had ended their relationship; Ginny knew that she was hopelessly in love with Harry Potter. This was not a girlhood crush any longer.

She wanted to see if she could spend a sizeable portion of her life teasing away the dark clouds that hung behind Harry's eyes. Just like she had done the day he first kissed her, and each day thereafter until he had split with her. To her it didn't matter if being with him made that life shorter, it was just important that it be with him.

Maybe that was why she kept thinking of Harry as one of the family. Maybe she subconsciously intended to make him a member of the family...someday...perhaps not too long in the future. Her mum and Dad were married at eighteen, after all, and her paternal grandfather and grandmother had also wed at eighteen. Ginny would be eighteen in less than two years. Of course she would have to finish school, and Harry would have to defeat Voldemort.

"Oh is that all? What am I thinking? I'm still in school for Merlin's sake!" thought Ginny with a smile. It was a hopeful smile.

Of course, Harry would defeat Voldemort. Sometimes he seemed like he could do anything. In the blink of an eye, Harry would go from appearing to be a slightly above average wizarding student, to destroying a fully grown dark wizard, or killing a sixty foot monstrous snake, or conjuring a charm that would dispel hundreds of Dementors. Or he would suddenly find the will to battle the greatest dark wizard of all time, or to teach defensive magic to dozens of teenagers or to battle and capture a dozen Death Eaters. He was so normal, yet so amazing sometimes; particularly when those he loved were threatened.

"Particularly when those he loves are threatened," thought Ginny again. There seemed to be something important in that but she couldn't quite bring it to mind.

Ginny smiled to herself and shook her head. These thoughts seemed an awful lot like the girlish fantasies she had felt for all those years. The important difference was that these thoughts were not fantasies.

Ginny began to feel her resolve strengthening her spirit. She had been a fool to mope around all summer pining for the great lout. Who was he to make her feel useless and in need of protection? She ought to cast a Bat-Bogey Hex on him. She would not let him make her stand aside while he went and faced the dangerous road ahead.

Ginny knew that she and Harry would be together when that last battle with Voldemort came. She suddenly felt the truth of it from the top of her fiery head to the soles of her feet. Ginny suddenly felt an ephemeral certainty that Harry would need her there in order to win that final confrontation.

Harry Potter. The Quidditch Seeker. The Boy Who Lived. The Tri-Wizard Champion. The Chosen One.

"The Git!" she thought.

So he thought he could protect her, did he? Well, at that moment Ginny came to two conclusions.

The first was that she was not going to simply accept Harry Bloody Potter's decision. Harry may think that he was going to be rid of her "for her own good," but Ginny would not accept it. Instead of timidly watching Harry as she had done, she was going to get in his face and make him see sense. She would bully him, she would shout at him, she would cry to him. Hell, she would seduce him if that is what it took.

Ginny's face flushed.

"Might not be such a bad idea," thought Ginny with a smile. Then she shook her head. Well, maybe not that.

Secondly she decided that no matter what barrier Harry, Ron or Hermione threw in her path, she would find out what they were up to, and she would become a full partner in it.

"It's about time," Ginny mumbled determinedly, "that they realize I might need to look out for them."

"What was that, Dear?" asked Mrs. Weasley.

Ginny looked a little sheepish. "Nothing, Mum."

Ginny looked at her mother and saw her mother studying her intently. For brief instant, Ginny thought that she saw a look of fear fluttering across her mother's face. When Ginny blinked it was gone, and Mrs. Weasley's ever-present motherly grin was in place.

Her mother said sweetly, "And are you having a nice time? I noticed several of the eligible young men chasing you for a dance."

"That lot did more than chase, Mum. I've had a turn with a few of Phle...I mean Fleur's relatives already," said Ginny with another grimace.

"Ahhhhh," said Mrs. Weasley, "that would explain the tender way you walked over here. And the way you have been hiding behind everyone on your way."

Ginny smiled. Her mother was not very easily fooled.

"Well, it not my fault the Delacours are as hard on the feet as they are on the ears," replied Ginny mock-testily.

Mrs. Weasley let out a little laugh. "Now, now, Dear," she said and appeared to turn her attention to the conversation of Mr. Granger with Mr. Weasley.

Ginny stole another look at Harry. Had he just looked away when she looked? She felt that flutter in her chest again.

"Have you spoken with Harry, Dear?" asked Mrs. Weasley quietly, still looking at Mr. Granger.

Mr. Granger seemed a tad animated, and he had an empty pint glass in his hand. Her Dad seemed to be looking at Mr. Granger a bit blearily.

"They're getting pissed!" exclaimed Ginny in a whisper to her mother, scandalized.

"Tut, Tut!" Mrs. Weasley whispered, making a hushing gesture. "Mr. Granger has just been a bit put off by all the magical goings-on, and your father is helping him adjust."

"Perhaps a bit too well," said Ginny with a grin.

"Perhaps." said Mrs. Weasley, "You haven't answered my question, Ginevra. Have you spoken with Harry?"

"No, but I will," Ginny said, feeling the resolve she had felt earlier flood into her voice. She looked at her mother.

Ginny was very surprised to see a very proud look on her mother's face. Then her mother bent and whispered something in Ginny's ear that she would never forget.

"You know, Dear," said Ginny's mum, "of all of my children, I think you are the most capable."

"Oh!" said Ginny, completely surprised.

"Yes." said Mrs. Weasley, almost to herself, looking in the direction of Harry, Ron and Hermione. "You definitely don't need help."

With that, Mrs. Weasley enfolded Ginny suddenly in a fierce hug. Ginny heard her mumble something that sounded distinctly like, "be careful." Ginny couldn't be sure, though, because of the multiple folds of Mrs. Weasley's expansive dress robes which covered Ginny's head during the embrace. Mrs. Weasley squeezed Ginny's arm and turned to attend earnestly to Mr. Granger's conversation with Ginny's dad.

Ginny felt quite off-balance and glanced across the dance floor at Harry. He was now in morose conversation with Ron. Hermione was looking highly annoyed.

"Did that man just bite that woman?!" Ginny heard someone exclaim. She turned and saw Mr. Granger staring at the dance floor, aghast.

"Just part of the dance, William," Mr. Weasley said distractedly.

"Good God, Man!" said Mr. Granger.

"William, don't be rude," said Mrs. Granger with a sick look on her face.

"Oh, yes!" interjected Mrs. Weasley, laughing nervously. "He didn't bite her hard. It's just part of the dance."

Mr. Granger attempted to take what looked like it was going to be a very large swallow of some of his ale. He noticed it was empty at this point and muttered a curse. Mr. Weasley took out his wand and tapped the cup. It refilled on the instant. Mr. Granger mumbled his thanks and took a liberal swig from the glass, seeming to calm a bit.

Ginny's mother took on a lecturing tone. "Oh, I wish you wouldn't do that, Arthur. You know we have to settle up all the magical refills at the end of the night and the way you lot are going, you won't be able to keep an accurate count. Can't you just go to the ale bar?"

"Sorry, Dear. Won't happen again," mumbled Mr. Weasley and then he turned back to Mr. Granger. "So, William, please go on with what you were saying about 'gazebos'. I find Muggle medical science quite fascinating."

Ginny resisted the urge to snort derisively and she cast another look over at Harry. He was looking at his feet again.

"Pla-ceb-os, Arthur, placebos," began Mr. Granger. He was starting to look a little blearier and he was already half done with the new pint. He seemed to have lost the thread of the conversation for a moment.

Mrs. Granger picked up the explanation, saying, "It is really quite simple, actually. It is a well documented psychological effect. You don't get much use of it in our field of dentistry, but William has had one opportunity to use it personally."

"Yes, but how do you do it?" asked Mr. Weasley, intrigued.

Mr. Granger looked up and began speaking in an important, dignified tone. "Well, I've only used it the once, mind you, and that was in an emergency. I had a patient with a multitude of drug allergies, and he showed up in our office with a horribly abscessed molar. He needed an emergency root canal or he would lose the tooth."

Ginny watched her father make a face as he chalked up a mental note to ask about what a "root canal" was. Whatever it was, it sounded horribly painful and primitive, and made Ginny wonder why someone would want to make a waterway through their face.

Mr. Granger was saying, "So this poor bloke comes in with his whole face swollen and I have to drill."

Ginny cringed.

Mr. Granger's voice had taken on a somewhat heightened volume, as the Elfish Lager took hold a little more, but he still spoke clearly. "Now when someone's root nerve is that far gone, mind you, there is nothing you can do for pain, except maybe take the edge off a bit. But this poor bloke was allergic to every pain killer in our pharmacy. I knew this would be excruciating and potentially dangerous to drill with no pain medication, so I tried the placebo effect."

"Go on, go on!" said Ginny's dad excitedly standing on tip-toes. Ginny's dad was in heaven right now. He tapped his and Mr. Granger's glasses again, filling them completely. Ginny's and Hermione's mothers both made disapproving sounds.

"Thanks, Arsh...I mean, Arthur," continued Mr. Granger. Mr. Granger took another swallow from his glass and smacked his lips a bit before continuing. "Anyway, so I gave him a sugar pill and told him it was a new powerful pain killer. Told him I could only give him one pill, because it was so strong it might cause damage otherwise."

"So what happened?" asked Ginny's dad. He was nearly leering at the Grangers. He was completely hanging on every word of the muggles. Ginny wanted to giggle.

"Drilled for an hour, and the bloke never let out a peep. I gave him two days worth of pills to take home. He never complained, and I see him for regular examinations now. He's shtill...I mean, still taking them whenever he comes in."

"Ingenious!" thundered Mr. Weasley, a beatific smile on his face. "Absolutely ingenious!"

"The pills have no potency themselves, you see," said Mrs. Granger, taking up for her husband as he warily watched a pygmy sprite fly overhead. "It is merely the suggestion that they have potency that makes them effective. And it doesn't work on everyone, mind you."

Mrs. Weasley looked a bit stunned and said, "I've done that."

Ginny's dad made a bit of a face at Ginny's mum for Mr. Granger's benefit. Mr. Granger giggled drunkenly.

"I have, Arthur!" said Ginny's mum sternly.

"When have you done, Molly?" asked Mrs. Granger politely. She gave Mr. Granger a dirty look, and he rolled his eyes to Ginny's dad. Mr. Weasley giggled into his pint.

Ginny's dad began asking Mr. Granger about whether the drills Muggle dentists used were run by eckletricity. Mr. Granger squawked excitedly as another person was bitten during the course of "the Doxie Dance." Ginny turned her attention to the two matrons as Mr. Granger made a triumphal gesture and something further about eckletricity.

Ginny's mum was in mid-stream, saying, "...he was always a bit of a hypochondriac, my youngest boy, you see. He only had a bit of a cold, but he insisted that he had Pixie Spotted Fever. So I gave him a little water mixed in a potion bottle with a little cinnamon and mint. I told him it was a new cure the healers had owled over. He was better in half an hour." Ginny's mum was looking down thoughtfully as she finished.

Mrs. Granger made politely appreciative noises. Ginny stole another look at Harry. Her attention was taken instead by the thundercloud that had suddenly appeared where Hermione's face was supposed to be. That obviously wasn't going well at all.

"I think Harry did that to Ron, too, Mum," Ginny said distractedly.

Ginny swung her head around to see both older women studying her. Her mother was looking very intent.

"Tell me, Dear," said Mrs. Weasley.

Ginny quickly explained how Ron had been a nervous wreck before the first Quidditch match last year at school. Harry had known Ron's problem was only nerves, not ability. Therefore, Harry had pretended that he had slipped a dose of Felix Felicis lucky potion into Ron's pumpkin juice. Thinking that he was bolstered by the lucky effects of the potion, Ron had performed brilliantly during the Quidditch match.

"In fact," finished Ginny, "once Ron found out that he had never taken the lucky potion, all of his nerves about Quidditch just went away. Since then, he has been almost unbeatable."

"That sounds like the placebo effect," said Mrs. Granger nodding. "If you don't mind my saying so, it sounds like Ron is very susceptible to it."

"Yes, it does," said Ginny's mum with a very large smile on her face. "Yes it does, indeed." Ginny had the very distinct impression that her Mother had just formed a very mischievous idea. Mrs. Weasley suddenly looked like Fred and George at their worst.

Ginny grew a bit bored with the conversation as her mum and Mrs. Granger began making some sort of plans for the rest of the weekend. For a few minutes, Ginny watched as her dad and Mr. Granger were talking animatedly about some sort of muggle dance involving "eckletricity". She smiled as they were obviously passing the point of tipsy and heading towards a full-blown bender.

Ginny noticed that a corner of the ale bar was largely unpopulated. She decide to get herself a butterbeer and think about things some more. She politely excused herself to her mum and Mrs. Granger and was about to take yet another furtive glance at Harry when she noticed Hermione coming over determinedly.

Hermione looked like she was on the verge of some barely suppressed tears. Ginny's heart went out to her friend and she made a private pledge to punch Ron in the nose when she got the chance.

Hermione's jaw dropped open as she looked at Mr. Granger. Ginny guessed that Hermione had never seen her father under the effects of Elfish Lager before.

Ginny glanced at Harry again. Had he looked away when she looked?

"Oh! This nonsense is driving me mad! Honestly!" thought Ginny furiously.

Hermione looked over at Ginny a few moments later, and Ginny cocked an eyebrow at Hermione, hoping to get some information about what Ron had done this time.

To Ginny's surprise, Hermione suddenly looked very sympathetic and shook her head slightly.

"Oh yes," Ginny thought, feeling suddenly empty. "I had asked her to tell me if Harry mentioned me."

Obviously Harry hadn't done. Ginny suddenly felt a stinging behind her eyes. She blinked rapidly, trying to regain the feeling of composure she had felt earlier. Ginny put a brave smile on her face and with a nod to Hermione, made her way to the ale bar. Ginny steadied herself with thoughts of the words of confidence her mother had given her earlier. She noticed her quiet corner had been filled by some young Delacour men.

Ginny decided that a few minutes of conversation with some cute Frenchmen about something besides Harry Bloody Potter were definitely in order.