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Author: parakletos Story: Twelve Months Rating: Teens Setting: Pre-OotP Status: WIP Reviews: 16 Words: 206,778
Ginny sat at the breakfast table, absentmindedly stirring her tisane. As she watched the steam from her mug drift lazily up towards the ceiling, she allowed her fingers to thrum gently on the battered oak table as she contemplated the direction of her day. For a moment she closed her eyes, enjoying the peace and quiet of an early morning. Although not normally an early riser, she was determined not to waste the time she had left to her before her mother nagged her to death over her lack of gainful employment. With Harry gone, she could, for the first time in years, plan her future without reference to anyone. Okay, she admitted to herself, there was the small matter of Harry’s proposal, but she had twelve months to figure that one out. And whilst she was in no doubt that she loved Harry, she had realised that their relationship had been unconventional to say the least, and a few more boy/girl moments were needed before she felt comfortable in agreeing to marry him. Not to mention a few scars from the past that needed healing. She extended her left arm to allow herself a good view of her ring finger. She wiggled the digit, trying to imagine how Harry’s ring would have looked. Ginny Potter, eh? What you would’ve given to hear those words when you were younger.? Ginny allowed herself a wry smile as she recalled the girlish daydreams that had filled her life prior to her fourth year. She raised her mug to her lips and allowed the mix of camomile and spearmint to both relax and revive her. She stared out through the window in front of her, lost in her thoughts, sipping slowly, taking her leisure. Judging by the lack of clouds, today promised to be another scorcher. Her thoughts were already focused on how much of it she could spend by the pond reading and avoiding her mother’s now blatant probing in to hers and Harry’s relationship. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d paid her to nag me in to marrying him. She chuckled as she pictured Harry and her mum closeted in secret places, whispering excitedly as they planned their ‘get Ginny down the aisle’ strategy. Her smile faded and a more serious thought entered her head. Perhaps I should’ve agreed, she mused, it would shut her up, and besides, it would be the fairytale ending to it all wouldn’t it? Briefly, Ginny allowed herself to picture being married to Harry, and if she was honest with herself, it wasn’t an unattractive image. Perhaps safely ensconced in their own place she could finally escape from her over inquisitive mother. Get real, she chided herself. Do you really think it would end there? Give it three months, maximum six, and her mother would be asking about grandchildren. Not that she’d want to pry, of course, she’d just be worried that Ginny wasn’t getting any younger, that was all. Ginny allowed herself a smile. Even if she had agreed to marry Harry, she’d allow a great deal of contraceptive potion to pass her lips before she presented her parents with their first raven-haired grandchild. She continued to stare out of the window. Where was Harry now? Was he still asleep? She doubted it. From his sixth year onwards, he had begun to live a disciplined, some would say ‘monkish’ life. And despite the popular misconception that Gryffindor’s most celebrated couple were also it’s most sexually active, was probably the most accurate description. Rising early in every kind of weather, he endured a training regime, which during his first term, had left him in no fit state to do any work. It was a disadvantage that Snape had seized upon and exploited to the full, docking house points and awarding detentions with such alacrity that in the end Harry gave up going to any Potions lessons. Harry looked at Dumbledore and then at his two teachers. He could barely keep his eyes open, and he had better things to do than listen to the two of them bicker. Like sleep. “Headmaster,” continued Snape, seeing the finishing line in sight and determined not to be denied the prize. “The boy continues to flout my authority and snores openly in the classroom.” The Potions master folded his arms with a smug expression on his face, convinced that he had finally had his revenge on James Potter. Minerva McGonagall stared at the Head of Slytherin house with a look of complete contempt. “I must say I’m surprised at you, Severus.” She spat the words out, not bothering to hide her feelings. “Your dislike for Potter is infamous, going far beyond the demands of the duplicity demanded by your role as a Death Eater. But I never expected to see even you sink so low as to kick the boy whilst he is so vulnerable.” Snape responded quickly. He had come too far to give up now that victory was so close. “The boy doesn’t hand in his homework; he doesn’t turn up for the detentions I give him…” “And can you blame him?” retorted McGonagall. “Even when he does turn up, you spend the whole time belittling him. Isn’t it about time that you let James Potter rest in peace and stopped carrying on this senseless vendetta against his son?” “Headmaster,” roared Snape throwing his arms up in outrage. “I must insist that Professor McGonagall withdraw those remarks at once.” “And I must insist,” said the calm but weary voice of Albus Dumbledore, “that you sit down Severus. You, too, Minerva.” The Headmaster indicated the leather arm chairs that the two combatants had been sitting in. “Thank you,” he continued once they had taken their seats. “Severus is correct, Minerva; this cannot go on. It will not do for Harry to go on missing homework like this and not turning up for detentions.” As Dumbledore spoke the faintest of smiles began to appear on the Potion Master’s normally impassive features. To Professor McGonagall’s growing irritation, the Headmaster began to list more examples of Harry’s lax approach to school including failure to attend meetings with him. Snape sat quietly in his chair, listening to the burgeoning list of Harry’s misdemeanours, his smile growing wider and wider. “So you see, Minerva,” concluded the Head, “Severus is quite correct, this cannot go on.” The Head of Gryffindor house sprang to her feet, unable to stand things any longer. “Well you may have given up on Potter, Albus, but I certainly have not. I’m sorry, but if I have to teach him every subject myself, I will make sure that he takes and passes all his NEWTs with flying colours.” “Oh really?” sneered Snape. “From what I understand, you barely scraped through your Potions NEWT and that was with the sort of dedication that Potter couldn’t manage in a month of Sundays.” “Enough!” Dumbledore commanded. Although he hadn’t raised his voice, the word thundered through the room and even the portraits, which had been murmuring throughout, now fell silent. Professor McGonagall returned to her seat, her face pinched with rage. Snape still smirked but he was now making a more obvious attempt to hide his feelings, as if he felt that he should try and be magnanimous in victory. “And what do you think, Harry?” said Dumbledore as he looked over at the exhausted young man who was now slumped in his chair snoring softly. “Very eloquently put, Harry.” The old man smiled at the two Professors, causing Snape’s smirk to vanish and McGonagall’s face to relax as her anger was replaced by hope. “From tomorrow,” he stated, his voice carrying the full weight of his considerable authority, “Harry’s attendance at all his lessons will become voluntary until further notice.” McGonagall let out a long sigh of relief whilst Snape tried his best to interrupt Dumbledore, even as the Headmaster continued. “Headmaster,” he shouted jumping to his feet, “I must object-” “I will take personal responsibility,” he continued the intensity of his voice slamming the Potions Master back into his seat, “for all of Harry’s schooling. Other members of staff,” he paused to nod at both the teachers present, “are welcome to assist as they wish.” His point made, Albus Dumbledore let his voice return to normal. The twinkle in his eye returned and the weariness that had characterised him before had now vanished. “And in case you’re wondering, Severus,” he said mischievously, “I did rather well in my Potions NEWT. If you want to know the details I believe that they can be found in Hogwarts: A History. I don’t recall the page number, but I’m sure that if you ask Miss Granger, she will be more than happy to assist.” Severus Snape rose to his feet, barely able to contain his anger. For a man so schooled in controlling his emotions, this was a rare failing, but this had been an evening of disappointments and he chided his carelessness at letting his quarry escape him at the last. “I can see that the boy has succeeded in twisting even you round his little finger, Headmaster.” The disdain in his voice was obvious, as was the smile on McGonagall’s face. “I cannot be party to this charade; this is a school and not an educational experiment. You know where to find me when you come to your senses.” And without a backward glance he flounced out of the room and down the stairs. “I fear that Severus has as nearly as much on his plate as young Harry, Minerva.” The weariness had returned to the Headmaster’s voice. “That’s as may be, Albus, but I for one am pleased that we’re reliant on a child who is becoming an adult, rather than an adult who cannot control his childish behaviour.” The bitterness was apparent in her voice. It seemed whatever good grace Severus Snape had had with her had now been exhausted. “You must learn to be more forgiving; before this unhappy saga comes to an end, we will be forced to rely on Severus a great deal.” ~*~ All thoughts of Harry disappeared as she noticed an owl making its determined way toward The Burrow. “Hedwig!” she shouted. She slammed her mug down so hard some of the hot liquid tea spilled on the table. Pushing her chair back, she stood excitedly. I wonder what he’s got me? she thought as she practically danced around the table towards the window. She stood at the window, anxiously watching the bird’s progress trying to make out what it was carrying. But as it drew nearer she could, much to her disappointment, see from its markings that it wasn’t Hedwig. “Oh,” she moaned, stamping her foot in frustration. “Don’t say you’ve forgotten me already, Harry.” Although she had appeared nonchalant about receiving a going away present from him, in her heart of hearts the gift would be an important symbol to her. It would be a sign that although they were apart, Harry’s love still burned strongly for her. As the owl drew nearer she was able to make out what it was carrying. Tied to its leg was a magazine. Monday! Of course! She allowed herself a small chuckle at her own forgetfulness; Witch Weekly day. She pulled her wand from her dressing gown pocket and tapped the bottom window to unlock it. Tugging at the top one, she pulled the window open. The gentle breeze that brushed past her face carried the subtle scents and sounds of summer. She took a deep breath and smiled; it had been a long time since she’d been up early enough to enjoy the beauty of a brand new day, a deficiency, she told herself, that would have to be rectified. She returned to her seat and with two flicks of her wand she cleaned up the mess she made. She took one last sip of her tisane before the owl swooped in through the now open window and landed on the kitchen table in front of her. Ginny knew that magazines such as Witch Weekly made their money by peddling half-truths and lies. Their exclusive photos were either staged with the full consent of the so called victims or they were unwelcome intrusions into people’s private lives. But try as she might, she couldn’t shake her unwholesome addiction to celebrity tittle-tattle. It was an area that had brought her into frequent conflict with Hermione. “I don’t know how you can bear to be in the same room as that rag, Ginny.” Hermione’s tone was laced with disapproval. If the younger witch was in any doubt as to her opinion, Hermione’s face would have removed it. Ginny put her copy of Witch Weekly down with a sigh. “It’s not all that bad, Hermione. Magazines such as this allow the rich and famous to provide controlled access to their lives for their fans. They fulfil a useful function. And besides, if it were that bad, surely someone would sue them?” Ginny’s voice did not convey the confidence she hoped it would. In truth, she knew that admitting to a weakness for the trashy end of the witches’ magazine market was a very effective way of ending her friendship with Hermione. But, like most addicts, rational thought went out of the window. “I’m amazed at you, Ginny;” the older girl said her disappointment palpable, “ how would you feel to be on the wrong end of a camera lens or dragged through the mud by a low life such as Rita Skeeter?” “Oh come on, Hermione,” Ginny laughed, “who is going to be interested in such an insignificant thing like me?” “That’s what I thought until Ms Skeeter’s Quick Quotes Quill did its worst. Even your mum was taken in. Ginny,” she continued, her earnestness making the other girl begin to squirm, “you’re Harry’s girlfriend, you are not insignificant.” “Oh come on, Hermione! We’ve been together for ages now, and they’ve not even printed a photo of us holding hands.” “You wait until the war is over,” said Hermione, trying but failing to keep her ‘Hermione knows best voice’ under control. Ginny sighed as she thought of Hermione. Try as she might Ron’s shaky relationship with his girlfriend had had a knock on effect on her own friendship with the older girl. The other member of the Golden Trio was not as frequent a visitor to The Burrow as she had once been, and now Ginny barely exchanged owls with her. She remembered that Ron was due to meet with Hermione today and she made a note to owl her later about a girls night out, that was if Ron didn’t burn all his bridges with her. That would be just typical of my brother, she thought, he’d cut off his nose to spite his face. With a bit of luck he’ll remember the advice that Harry had given him before leaving and not let his pride get in the way. She was brought back to reality as an impatient owl pecked at her hand. “Oh, sorry, daydreaming a bit.” She untied the cord keeping the magazine strapped to its leg and then dashed over to the dresser to find some coins to pay for her subscription. Rummaging through the jar of change that her mum kept on the top shelf, she found the eight Sickles and eighteen Knuts she needed. After stopping by the sink to get the bird some water, she returned to the table and dropped the money into the pouch on its leg. As soon as it had received the payment the bird took off again. Ginny left the magazine on the table whilst she refilled her mug from the small silver teapot she used exclusively for her herbal teas. Looking forward to a good read, she picked up the tightly rolled publication and settled down at the table to indulge herself before the rest of the family stirred. Taking one short sip of the steaming liquid, she placed her mug carefully on the table before taping her wand on the roll in front of her. The magazine rose gently into the air as it unfurled itself. It floated gently downwards before settling flat against the table, all sign of been rolled up gone. As she looked down at the front cover, to her horror she saw her own face looking back at her. For few moments she sat stunned, unsure as to how to react to the headline that confronted her. Is This the Most Stupid Witch in Britain? As she stared at the writing she found anger beginning to build inside of her. How did they find out about this? Who could have told them? Was it Harry? Had he been so sure that she would say yes that he’d had a reporter hidden away? Is this why he’d said that these things had a habit of sneaking out? Finally, her anger could not be kept under wraps any longer and a stream of invective burst into the air. “That bastard Potter! If he thinks that this is okay then he’s got another thing coming. No wonder he took his sorry hide up to Puddlemere early! By the time I’ve finished with him he’ll wish that Voldemort had killed him first. ” She was so busy with her rant she didn’t notice her mother’s arrival in the kitchen. “Ginny! What is the matter with you? Whatever it is, it certainly doesn’t warrant that sort of language.” Looking up she saw her mother wrapped in a floral dressing gown making her way towards her. “Well I’m sorry to disappoint you, mother, but I think that this does.” Jumping to her feet she met her mother in the middle of the kitchen and she thrust the magazine into her hands. Molly stared at the front cover of the magazine stunned by what she saw. “Oh dear,” she stammered, her own disbelief mirroring Ginny’s. Ginny snatched the magazine from her mother’s hands, opened it up and started flipping through the pages of advertising in an effort to locate the offending article. Finding what she was looking for she sat down and began to read. Leaning over her shoulder, Molly joined her as she read the article, glancing from the printed page to Ginny trying to gauge her reaction. They read in silence, the impact of the words and the implications of the accusations made rendering them both speechless. When they had finished reading the two women looked at each other ashen faced, unable to articulate what they were feeling. Is This The Most Stupid Witch In Britain? By Sophie Baratineur He’s free girls! At long last Harry Potter, ‘The Boy Who Lived’, twice vanquisher of the self-styled Lord Voldemort and heir to the Potter and Black fortunes, is no longer the property of one woman. Our sources have discovered that a few days ago, Potter proposed to his long time girlfriend, the fiery redhead and daughter of a low-ranking Ministry Official, Ginevra Weasley. Any witch worth her salt would have jumped at the offer, but for reasons that have escaped this writer, the former Hogwarts Prefect turned him down. Ginevra Weasley, known to her decreasing circle of friends as Ginny, has been Harry Potter’s constant companion for the last three years. During his last two years at Hogwarts and throughout his long recovery after the final battle, the two were only seen apart when the school timetables or the needs of Potter’s medical team dictated. It had been widely expected that the couple would marry following his release from St Mungo’s. Not for the first time, ‘The Boy Who Lived’ has proved as unlucky in love as he was lucky in his battles against He Who Is Now Dead. Readers will remember his well documented troubles with former Hogwarts Head Girl, Hermione Granger. Muggle- born Ms Granger, who is well known for her strange views on house-elves, had dallied with Potter’s affections before dumping him in favour of the Bulgarian Seeker, Victor Krum. This writer sincerely hopes that Ms Granger won’t be using this opportunity to renew ties with Harry as she has recently been seen in the company of Potter’s long-term friend, Ronald Weasley. Potter has been staying at Miss Weasley’s family’s residence, a ramshackle dwelling known as The Burrow, but our sources tell us that he has now moved into a flat of his own. And who can blame him? He must be questioning the motives of the Weasley girl in staying with him until this point in time. Concerns have been raised in the past regarding Ms Weasley’s association with dark magic, in particular rumours of her being involved in the opening of the Chamber of Secrets during her first year at Hogwarts. Could it be that she had links with the Dark Lord, and she only severed them following his demise? Some have pointed out that, if that were true, then she would have left him earlier, but it may be she had hoped to benefit from Potter’s intended career as an Auror. From that perspective, it appears that his rumoured decision to become a professional Quidditch player may have made her continued interest in him no longer beneficial. Our Sports correspondent writes… Rumours also persist that Potter is due to sign with Puddlemere United, linking up with former Hogwarts team mate and new Puddlemere captain Oliver Wood. No one at the team would confirm or deny the rumour but a spokesman admitted that they were looking for a new Seeker after attempts to sign the Spanish National Seeker Jose Madero collapsed last week. Other possibilities include current Moose Jaw Meteorites reserve Seeker Megan Campbell and the unsettled Wollongong Wandererss player Bruce Madison. Finally Molly spoke. “I’m so sorry, Ginny, really I am. But why didn’t you tell me?” She made to put her arms around her daughter but Ginny ducked out of the way. “Tell you what?” she said bitterly. “How I joined the Dark Lord?” Her tone was sharper than she intended but her anger was building and she was in no mood to be mollified. With a patience born out of many years of parenting, her mother ignored her daughter’s riposte, choosing instead to attempt to deal with the situation in hand. “Ginny,” she said offering her a reassuring smile, “I think I know my children well enough to know whether or not my daughter is a Death Eater. No, what I meant was about you and Harry.” Ginny knew that if this conversation was going to go in the direction she wanted, she would have to remain calm, something that she was finding increasingly difficult to do. “There’s nothing that you need to know, mother dear,” she said matter of factly. Any hope that she entertained that her mother would let things drop was quickly dashed. “I think there is, and don’t you use that tone of voice to me, young lady.” “Sorry mother,” she smiled, sarcasm written all over her face. “It must be my Death Eater training taking over.” “This is no laughing matter,” replied Molly, refusing to respond to her daughter’s invitation to fight. “We need to do something. Can we get a message to Harry? Is the Floo network open to Puddlemere?” “Let me assure you, mother,” Ginny replied, “I’m not laughing. Why would I want to speak to Harry? he’s obviously responsible for this.” Molly looked at her daughter, shaking her head, her disapproval evident. “If you would start to think, rather than go off at half cock, you would realise that this has nothing to do with Harry. Even if he was bitter at being turned down, he would never do this to you. If you don’t realise that you’re not the girl I thought you were and, quite frankly, Harry would be better off without you.” Her mother’s lecture had the desired affect and Ginny stopped to think. “I suppose you’re right, Mum,” she said grudgingly. “But,” she demanded, “if it wasn’t Harry, then who was it?” Molly took her daughter in her arms and enveloped her in a big hug. As Ginny felt her mother’s arms around her, her rage began to subside. The comforting familiarity of her mother’s fragrance evoked so many similar moments in the past when the world had become too much to bear. Here was a place of refuge where the storms of life could not harm her. She let her head rest against her mother’s chest taking comfort in its steady rhythm. She let out a long sigh and lost herself in the soft strength of her mother’s embrace. The tension began to leave her body and she began to think about life now that Harry’s proposal was public knowledge. “Ginny?” Her mother’s voice was tentative as if she was asking her question with great reluctance. “Yes, Mum?” she replied not really paying attention, still turning over the possibilities in her mind. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Ginny sighed and pushed herself gently away from her mum. As she looked at her, she could see the concern in her eyes. This was not the inquisitor that wanted to pry into the details of her daughter’s private life, but a mother, concerned for her wounded daughter. “Because… because it was between Harry and me, Mum. And it should have stayed that way.” “Is it true, did you turn him down?” He mother’s tone was still tentative as if she didn’t know how far she could push her daughter. “I did, mum. I did turn him down. But it wasn’t ‘no’ it was ‘not yet’. I do love Harry, Mum, you know that, but I’m not ready to marry him yet. We hardly know each other.” Once again Ginny had to accept that she was lying to her mother, feeding her the same line that she had given Harry and hoping that like Harry had, at least initially, her mother bought it. “I’m not sure you can say you hardly know each other, from what I’ve heard you were a married couple in all but name.” Her mother’s tone was not lecturing but there was an air of restrained disapproval in the way she spoke. “I’m still surprised that I wasn’t summoned to the school by Madam Pomfrey.” “Mum!” “Calm down, Ginny, it’s not that I wouldn’t welcome yours and Harry’s children. It’s … well, it’s just a little early and I would prefer it if you were married first. I know I seem a little old-fashioned in these things but I’m only thinking of you. I know Muggles think nothing of jumping into bed with each other at the drop of a hat, but just look at the mess they’re in.” If Molly Weasley was expecting a tirade from her daughter, she was disappointed. . “Mum,” said Ginny, fighting to keep the irritation out of her voice, “I did sleep with Harry whilst we were at Hogwarts. And yes, it was every night during the last two years, but contrary to what you may have heard that is all we did. I am proud to say that I am still a virgin and so is Harry. It may seem a little unusual in this day and age but it’s what we both want. It’s not that I don’t find Harry attractive in that way, it’s just… well there were far more important things to worry about, like keeping Harry alive.” Molly Weasley looked at her daughter and gave her a weak smile. “I’m sorry, Ginny; you’ve got enough on your plate without me adding to your woes.” Ginny picked up the magazine again and flicked through the other articles. It was filled with page after page and picture after picture of who might be Harry’s new love interest. She found herself getting more and more depressed until she came across a picture of Hermione. Although they have a chequered past, sources close to Potter, have let it slip that his heart is set on his long time friend, Hermione Granger. “Harry and Hermione became really close during their third year,” explained one former Hogwarts student. “In particular, their narrow escape from mass murderer Sirius Black brought them close together.” Readers will remember how Potter and his talented companion Miss Granger narrowly survived an attempt by Black to kill them on the night he escaped from the clutches of the Dementors of Azkaban. Ginny shook her head in disbelief as she read. Only a few pages ago they were ridiculing Hermione. Why is she suddenly flavour of the month? The obvious inaccuracy of the articles didn’t lessen the pain that Ginny felt. Being publicly labelled as the Most Stupid Witch in Britain didn’t exactly do much for her ego, but what hurt the most was that Harry wasn’t here. Her mother was right, Harry wouldn’t have leaked the story to the press, but she felt his absence none the less. Her mother gave her a final hug and then wandered over to the range to begin breakfast. Outside the sky was still blue but all thoughts of an enjoyable day had long since disappeared. She sat down at the table, reheated her tisane with a flick of her wand and drank it slowly, trying but failing to find a way forward. Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of heavy footfalls on the last few stairs as her father entered the kitchen. “Good morning all,” he said cheerily, oblivious to the events that had transpired before his arrival. “And how are the two favourite women in my life today?” Ginny stared, stony-faced at her dad. She glanced at her mum as if seeking inspiration and seeing her own impassive stare reflected back she looked back at him without saying a word. “Have I come at a bad time?” The forced grin on his face made him look gormless, but he persisted. “I would try a different route to work but the fireplace is in here.” She appreciated that he was trying to make light of his interruption but there were times when her dad just said the wrong thing at the wrong time. She looked over at her mother and after receiving a nod of encouragement she picked up the open magazine and thrust it in his hand. As he began to read she walked back to her mother’s side and stood with arms folded, the same impassive look on her face, awaiting his reaction. Aware of her intense gaze, her father took his time in reading the article about his daughter. On the outside he was calmness personified, but inside he was seething with anger. It didn’t take him long to scan the libel that masqueraded as journalism. After years of working in the Ministry he was used to speed-reading documents but he still took his time. Not time to read but time to think. He knew that magazines such as this regularly printed lies, but mostly they were concerned with who was sleeping with whom and other inconsequential bits of tittle tattle. But here, in print, someone had accused his daughter of being a Death Eater, and in his eyes there was no greater crime. Finally, when he thought he could open his mouth without letting his emotions get the better of him, he put the magazine down slowly and spoke. “So,” he said matter of factly. He had put his hands together as if in prayer and tapped his chin as he observed them. Ginny listened expectantly. Deep inside, the scared little girl that had survived the Chamber watched and waited. He had come to her rescue then; knowing when to speak and when to hold her. She prayed that he would do so again. “Well, Ginny!” he said in mock surprise. “It appears that we have all underestimated you. Not only have you managed to fool your parents as to your true nature, but also the two greatest wizards of all time. Whilst I expect Harry may have been somewhat … erm… distracted, I admit to being a tad disappointed in Albus, though. He had you under his watchful eye for seven years and they still missed the fact that you were a Death Eater.” “Arthur!” chided his wife, “you don’t honestly believe these lies, do you?” “That our darling daughter is a Death Eater? No!” he roared, throwing the magazine to the floor in contempt. Closing his eyes, he pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a long sigh. “But like all these things, I’m sure that there was some grain of truth in this … this pile of…” He abandoned his struggle to find a phrase to do justice to the contempt he felt for the article. With a sigh, he admitted, “I suspect that truth being that Ginny did turn Harry down on his proposal.” “Well, Arthur, what are we going to do about it?” Ginny could hear the pitch of her mother’s voice rising betraying the near hysteria she felt. He looked at her and opened his mouth as if to speak, but closed it and began pacing back and forth. His long strides echoed around the small kitchen as he paced , flexing his hands as if trying to bleed off his rage by sheer physical effort. Finally, he stopped and turned to face his wife and daughter. “Well, I think we should give them a bit of space and let love find its own way.” He resumed his pacing, muttering to himself as he did. “No, you idiot!” explained his wife. “I’m talking about the fact that they are calling our daughter a Death Eater.” Ginny flinched. She had never heard her mother address her father in such a way before. Long angry arguments were not the way they worked things out. That didn’t mean they didn’t get upset with each other, but they chose to resolve their disputes away from the prying eyes of their children. For that Ginny had always been grateful, but she had always wished that when they’d made up they had been just as discreet. “Oh, that. Ah yes. Sorry.” He flashed her a sheepish grin and continued with his pacing. “Arthur Weasley, for once in your worthless life do something with that vacuum you call a brain. Your daughter needs you, and I need you too!” He stopped his pacing and regarded the two of them with concern. He knew that they were strong women able to bear up under incredible strain and still find something to smile about. This morning, however, they had been put to the test and had both been found wanting. He knew that they were depending on him and he hoped that he wouldn’t let them down. To be accused as a Death Eater was a bridge too far and someone, he decided, was going to pay. The question he had been asking himself whilst he paced was how? Now, finally, he believed he had the answer. He walked over and drew them into a big hug. Wrapping his arms tightly around them he kissed each one gently on the forehead before letting his arms fall to his side. He took a deep breath and then spoke. “I know that this is going to sound very strange, but I think for the time we should do nothing…” The words had scarcely left his lips when he was met with howls of protest. “Arthur, how can you say such a thing? I appreciate that you’re a man who takes a relaxed approach to most things in life, but this is neither the time nor the place to be so blasé. Your daughter has been called a Death Eater and her private life has been plastered all over the papers for everyone to see. You have to do something.” No sooner had Molly finished than Ginny joined in. “Dad, I can’t believe that you can just sit back and let them get away with this…” “Molly, Ginny. I have no intention of letting anyone get away with anything. Hear me out, please. I will, of course, write to the editor demanding a retraction, but such is the nature of these people I don’t expect them to do anything of the sort.” “Why not?” demanded Ginny. “You work in the Ministry, you are a war hero, or doesn’t that mean anything these days?” Her voice was bitter and she knew she was taking her anger out on her dad, but surely she was the victim here? “Well,” said her father, trying to remain calm under the onslaught, “I do have some influence, but not enough to force them to print something that they don’t want to print. And, sad as it may be, we don’t have any evidence to counter their lies.” “What do you mean no evidence?” Ginny howled. “What about all the stuff I did in the war? All the time I spent with Harry?” “They are not denying that, Ginny.” He paused, trying to keep control of the conversation. “They’re just putting a different slant on it. Taking two and two and making five. I believe the Muggles call it ‘spin’. ” “I can’t believe that I’m hearing this,” yelled his wife, finally losing her patience. “This …this rag accuses our daughter of being one of Voldemort’s…. scum and you won’t be doing anything about it.” He let out a long sigh. “Molly, please, listen to me,” he pleaded, holding up his hands as if in supplication. “Look, I’m not the enemy here. It’s not that I won’t or can’t. I’m trying to be realistic.” He put his hand up to forestall the inevitable retort from his now apoplectic wife. “The way I see it, we have to play the long game in this.” He turned to his daughter who was red-faced with anger. “Ginny, ultimately you and Harry hold all the cards in this one. Harry will be front page news as long as he lives and the press will want interviews. You can use that to your advantage.” There was snort of derision from her before she replied. “You don’t think Harry will give this rag the time of day do you? I certainly wouldn’t even piss on them if they were on fire.” “Ginny Weasley,” scolded her mother, “I have had enough of your language this morning. I don’t care what the provocation is; you will keep a civil tongue in your head.” Ginny scowled, but apologised. “Sorry, Mum.” “You father is right about that at least, Ginny. The press may be a bunch of reptiles but they will do anything for a story about Harry.” “If he will still speak to me after this,” she said glumly. “And why wouldn’t he?” said her mum, looking askance at her daughter. “You don’t think he’s going to believe this rubbish do you?” As if in answer to her question Hedwig flew in through the window and landed in front of Ginny, offering her the letter that was attached to her left leg. “Hello girl,” she said disconsolately. “Come to laugh at me?” The owl gave her a sideways look before giving her an affectionate nip on the hand and flying off again. Ginny took the letter and read it. Dear Ginny I hope you are well and not missing me too much! I arrived safe and sound at Puddlemere; I’m staying with the kit manager Mr Heckingbottom and his family. They seem okay, but I’d rather be at The Burrow. I’ve met my team mates and they’ve all got a lot more playing experience than me, but I think I’m okay, skill-wise. I may be a bit small even for a Seeker so I think I will be spending more than a little of my time in the gym. I have two reasons for writing to you. Firstly, your leaving present; I have arranged for you to have access to my vault. You now have accounts with all the shops in Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade and the key for the vault is attached. If you have any problems at the bank speak to Griphook and he’ll sort them out. I know you don’t want charity, Ginny, but this isn’t charity. Besides, if you’re going to help me be Harry Potter, philanthropist extraordinaire, you will need something to cover your expenses. Spend it on what you like or don’t spend anything at all; it’s up to you. The second reason and more worryingly, I’ve got wind that a journalist is trying to sell a story about you and me. According to Alphonse, he discovered that one of his staff had been leaking details about his famous clients to this guy who had been selling the stories on .to others. I don’t know what he’s going to say but the press aren’t normally interested in the truth. I wish I could Floo you, but we’re shut up like monks here during preseason, so I can’t. I know it sounds strange, Ginny, but whatever lies they print don’t react. And take Ron’s advice on this. I know everyone thinks he’s a bit dense, but he does see the big picture – most of the time. Anyway, I must go now. Love, Harry P.S. Tell Ron to get ready to cry into his Butterbeer, United are going to sweep the board this year. “Well,” said her mum trying to peer over her shoulder. “What does he say?” “He says he hates me and he always knew I was a Death Eater.” “Ginny! No!” “Honestly, mother, what do you think it says?” “Well, madam, I have no idea until you tell me.” “Well, apart from the fact that I’m now the richest person in the family and that we had an eavesdropper when we had lunch, nothing much.” Ginny’s tone betrayed the frustration that she felt and it took all her presence of mind not to tell her mother where she could put her parental concern. “Oh,” replied Molly caught on the back foot by her daughter’s revelation. “Did he say anything about the article? Did he know that it was coming?” “He had a tip off that the article might be coming but he didn’t know when.” Ginny let out a long sigh. “It appears that the exclusive and private restaurant we dined at was less than private.” “If he knew that it was coming why didn’t he warn you?” “I don’t think he knew anything about it until yesterday.” “And what do you mean ‘richest person in the family’?” “Exactly that,” she said matter-of-factly. Ginny held up the key that Harry had sent her. “This, my inquisitive progenitor, is a key to the Potter vault at Gringotts. As of now I can spend as little or as much of Harry’s money as I want.” If the prospect excited her it wasn’t revealed in her voice. By now the events of the morning were beginning to wear on her and she could feel the beginnings of a headache as the tension grew in her neck. She wanted nothing more than to go back to bed and wake up at the end of the month when Harry came back. Her mother had not finished her interrogation. “And how much do you want to spend?” Molly asked nervously. “Not much,” she replied the germ of an idea beginning to form in her head. A wry smile appeared on her lips as she suddenly found purpose in amongst the debris of the young day. “Just enough to get me a t-shirt,” she said with a smile that wouldn’t have looked out of place on a Sphinx. “A t-shirt?” her mother asked her confusion evident. “I’d have thought that you’d want to spend more than that. I mean aren’t you always complaining that you have nothing to wear?” “Well yes, mother, I do. But this is a special one-off and it won’t come cheap, but I think you’ll like the results.” Her mother opened her mouth to ask another question, but her husband took advantage of the lull in the conversation to bring them back to the question in hand. “I’m sorry to interrupt, ladies, but I do have to go to work now. Are we agreed that we won’t do anything yet? That Ginny, you’ll speak to Harry first and get his agreement on things?” Ginny looked at him intently. She could see that behind the brave face there was a man who was hurting for his daughter. She hugged him and took comfort from feeling his strong arms around her. As she did so she realised that she had reached a significant moment in her life. Her parents could no longer protect her from the world around her and with Harry away it was down to her to deal with things. “Okay Dad, I will, although I don’t think that anything other than Hedwig can get through to him.” “Well I’ll see what I can do about getting through on the Floo Network. I’ll see you tonight.” Ginny watched as her father walked into the fireplace and disappeared in a whoosh of green flame. She turned to her mum, and seeing that she was not about to resume her barrage of questions, readily accepted the hug that was offered. “Don’t worry, Ginny dear. We’ll sort this out. Despite his protestations to the contrary, your father does have some influence. By tea time tonight, we’ll all be celebrating the end of it all, you’ll see.” Ginny would have liked to believe what her mother told her, but in truth she knew that she had a long road ahead of her. The end of the month and Harry’s return couldn’t come soon enough.
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