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The Fodder and The Fighting | ||||
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Category: Post-DH/AB Characters:None Genres: Action/Adventure, Fluff, General, Humor Warnings: None Story is Complete Rating: PG Reviews: 19 Summary: In which Harry stares, Ginny lets him, and Hermione has a wonderful, wicked idea. Hitcount: Story Total: 9314 Disclaimer: Harry Potter Publishing Rights © J.K.R. Note the opinions in this story are my own and in no way represent the owners of this site. This story subject to copyright law under transformative use. No compensation is made for this work. Some passages taken directly from "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows." Author's Notes: A little birthday present for Ginny. It seriously took off, though. I started with only the part about her dress, then Charlie popped up unexpectedly and then the rest of the day just kept on happening. My family is probably wondering why I've been in my room all day now. |
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“You look nice, Ginny.” Hermione’s voice broke into Ginny’s thoughts as she stood in front of her mirror, examining her reflection. “Thanks,” Ginny replied absently. She ran her hands down her sides. The gold bridesmaid dress seemed to fit a bit looser than it had a couple of weeks ago. Perhaps her mum wasn’t just being overbearing when she remarked that Ginny had been eating less lately. Ginny turned to the side, trying to figure out if she’d become slimmer. “Hermione,” Ginny began, still gazing at herself, “Do I look thinner to you?” Hermione walked up behind Ginny to look at her in the mirror, and it was only then that Ginny really looked at her. Her hair was tamed and she was wearing a lilac dress in what looked like chiffon. “Oh, Hermione, you look lovely!” Hermione blushed. “Thanks. It is fun to get dressed up once in a while,” she admitted grudgingly. She turned her eye, which had darted briefly to her own reflection, back to Ginny. “Maybe just a bit. You haven’t been trying to lose weight, have you?” Ginny shook her head. “I must have not noticed I’ve had less of an appetite lately. Anyway, the robes don’t fit quite as well as they used to. Do you know how to fix it? I don’t want to bother Fleur with it.” Hermione raised an eyebrow. “You don’t? Ginny rolled her eyes. “It is her wedding day. She irritates me, but she’s not evil. No one should be stressed out on her wedding day.” Hermione sniffed but looked approving, and drew her wand from the beaded handbag Ginny had just noticed. “Do you think a Shrinking Spell on the seams would do the trick?” “It should, I've tried it on some of my secondhand things when we were at school. If you mess it up we could always get Mum to put it right.” Hermione walked around Ginny, muttering the incantation, for a few minutes and Ginny felt the dress fit itself more snugly around her. “How’s that?” Hermione asked when she had finished. “Perfect,” said Ginny admiringly, turning from side to side and looking at her reflection. “Thanks so much.” “Are you sure?” said Hermione, sounding worried. “Is it supposed to be that tight?” Ginny shrugged. “I can breathe just fine, and I think it looks lovely.” Hermione turned a shrewd eye on Ginny. “Do you think it looks lovely, or do you think Harry will think it looks lovely?” Ginny looked Hermione back in the eye squarely, unashamed. “What’s wrong with both?” “Nothing,” said Hermione hesitantly. “It’s just that I think he’s already having a hard enough time of it, leaving you here, and…do you really think yesterday helped?” “Yes,” said Ginny bluntly. “If he’s about to be going off on some quest with just you and Ron for company, he’ll need some fodder for fantasies.” “Is that what you’re doing?” Hermione asked in amazement. Ginny sighed. “Harry won’t kiss me again before you leave. Ron made sure of that,” she added bitterly. “You heard that,” Hermione breathed. “My window was open,” Ginny admitted. “Anyway, maybe the dress wasn’t this tight before, okay? But you lot are leaving tomorrow at the latest, I know it. And it’s my prerogative as the ex-girlfriend to give him something pretty to look at.” She threw her head back defiantly, daring Hermione to pursue the subject and desperately hoping she wouldn’t. But Hermione only smiled in what seemed to be acceptance. She ran her wand through her fingers thoughtfully and, before Ginny could ask what was on her mind, pointed her wand at Ginny’s chest and muttered something else. Ginny felt the fabric recede. When she turned to the mirror, she was delighted to find that Hermione had made the dress’s modest neckline, well…less than modest. Hardly trashy, but definitely something for Harry to look at. She squealed and turned to Hermione, throwing her arms around her and feeling Hermione’s laugh resounding through her chest. Drawing back, Ginny glanced down at Hermione’s dress again. “Are you going to do the same thing for Ron?” Hermione didn’t blush. “I don’t have to,” she said mischievously. “I’m going with them.” Both of their faces fell slightly at her words. Ginny leaned back in to hug Hermione tightly, only now realizing this would be their last day sharing a room, perhaps forever. Shaking her head clear of the thought, Ginny quickly let go of Hermione and turned back to the mirror, saying “I only hope Fleur won’t mind. She’ll have to see it when I go in there so she can fix my hair.” Hermione rolled her eyes. “Somehow I think that if you explain it, she’ll understand. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but she might understand better than anyone.” Ginny grinned cheekily and followed Hermione into the hallway. They climbed the stairs to Mum and Dad’s room, where Fleur’s mother and sister were helping her prepare. When they had one more flight of stairs to go, though, a loud bark of a voice assaulted their ears. “That’s right, a bit further back! Your hairline won’t appear so odd that way. Now I’ll be going downstairs to sit down, I am a hundred and seven and I expect a good seat so I can see!” Ginny reacted purely on instinct and ducked into the nearest room, seeing when she had hidden herself well behind the door that it was Bill’s old room that he had been sharing with Charlie, who was sitting on the bed attaching his cufflinks and now staring at her in confusion. Ginny wildly gestured for him to stay quiet, waving her hands and mouthing “Muriel!” He nodded in understanding. Auntie Muriel’s voice came again, this time much closer, and Ginny realized with horror that in her hurry she had left Hermione in the hallway by herself. “Who in blazes are you?” Ginny grimaced, realizing she couldn’t possibly leave Hermione to her own devices, and ducked her head around the door. She adopted a look of pleasant surprise and hoped Auntie Muriel wouldn’t notice she was in the wrong bedroom as she said “Oh, hello, Auntie Muriel! You haven’t met my friend Hermione, have you? Hermione, this is my Great-Aunt Muriel.” “Oh, dear, is this the Muggle-born?” Auntie Muriel shouted. “Sorry we can’t chat, Auntie Muriel,” Ginny cut in hurriedly, “but I need Hermione in here for something.” She stretched out a hand to the stammering Hermione, her body still hidden behind the door to Bill’s room, seized her wrist, and pulled her into the bedroom, firmly shutting the door behind her. Charlie watched them in amusement as they both pressed their ears to the door, searching for the sounds of Auntie Muriel continuing her journey down the stairs. They soon heard the heavy footsteps resume, accompanied with an unusually loud mutter of “Bad posture and skinny ankles.” Ginny dissolved into giggles, falling against the door. Hermione looked vaguely offended. “Don’t let her get to you, Hermione,” Charlie offered, standing up. “She’s just a nightmare of an old woman. The only reason anyone in the family puts up with her is fear of being written out of her will.” Ginny nodded emphatically and Hermione looked slightly mollified. Charlie chuckled and brushed off his dress robes. “You look smart,” said Ginny. And he did; his hair had grown just enough overnight that Mum couldn’t complain, but it was no longer so severe. A fresh rose was tucked into his buttonhole. “Thanks,” said Charlie, smiling warmly. “You both look nice as well.” Hermione made a grateful noise in the back of her throat, obviously still reeling from the encounter with Auntie Muriel, while Ginny told Charlie, “We’re just heading up to Fleur so she can fix my hair.” Charlie crossed the room, checking his pocket for the ring, and motioned for Ginny to move off the door so he could leave. As she did so, he looked her up and down in scrutiny. His eyes lingered warily on her neckline, and Ginny thought maybe he was going to say something about it, but in the next instant he had winked at her and was gone. Ginny grabbed Hermione by the wrist again and pulled her through the door, up the stairs, and into her parents’ room. She couldn’t help but gasp when she saw Fleur. Her dress was simple and elegant and Auntie Muriel’s tiara twinkled at them from the top of Fleur’s shining blond tresses. More than that, though, Ginny had never seen Fleur look so content. “Ginny, zere you are!” she exclaimed happily. “Come ‘ere, come ‘ere, I will fix your ‘air — it will only take a moment.” As Ginny approached, Fleur’s eyes swept her up and down as Charlie’s had, and somehow Ginny didn’t feel resentful. Perhaps it was the unusual look of approval and joy on Fleur’s beautiful face. When her sparkling eyes landed on Ginny’s neckline, if possible, her smile only widened. She said nothing, though, and pulled Ginny in front of her so they both faced the mirror. A few taps and Ginny’s hair was all swept up at the back of her head. It seemed shinier than usual, as well, and Ginny gave Fleur her most gracious smile. “I’m going to head down now,” said Hermione from behind Ginny. “I’ll see you all down there.” “See you later, Hermione,” said Ginny. “Oui, cherie,” added Madame Delacour from the bed, and Gabrielle waved merrily from her perch on a nearby armchair, her own gleaming waist-length hair already swept back in a style identical to Ginny’s. Ginny eyed her and reluctantly noted that the gold of the dress complimented the silvery blonde hair perfectly; Gabrielle’s eyes twinkled like jewels as she gazed happily at her older sister. Fleur only waved vaguely as Hermione left the room — obviously she had temporarily forgotten the existence of any human outside her wedding party — and Ginny found herself left alone with the Delacour women. Fleur was tapping Ginny’s head with her wand again, and tiny pearls appeared throughout her fiery locks. Ginny couldn’t help but hum with pleasure at how nicely it turned out, and Fleur looked satisfied. “Zat will do perfectly,” she declared, and Ginny, knowing an urge this generous would be short-lived and rare, gave in to the impulse to lean in and kiss Fleur on the cheek. Fleur looked both surprised and pleased, Madame Delacour let out a contented sigh and murmured something prettily in French, and Gabrielle, Ginny noted with some savage pleasure, eyed Ginny with slight resentment for a moment before standing and taking Ginny’s place in front of the mirror. Her expression of bliss reappeared as she examined her own stunning reflection, and at that moment Monsieur Delacour appeared at the door. He exclaimed over everyone’s appearance, declared everything “Charmant!” and informed them all with nothing less than elation that it was time to go downstairs. -o- Ten minutes later, Ginny found herself walking down the aisle under the marquee in her backyard. Bill grinned at her as she reached him and moved to stand to the side. Gabrielle and she both watched as their siblings began their wedding ceremony, and Ginny thought that maybe there was something to all the hype, after all. The presiding wizard had barely begun, however, when Ginny heard her Auntie Muriel’s unmistakable whisper carrying from the third row. “Yes, my tiara sets off the whole thing nicely. But I must say, Ginevra’s dress is far too low cut.” Ginny couldn’t stop a grin from appearing on her face. She quickly looked out to the crowd, finding the unfamiliar redhead sitting with Ron and Hermione in the second row that she knew to be Harry. Taking half a moment to enjoy the fact that his eyes were exactly where she wanted them to be, she winked as Charlie had done and returned her attention to the couple of the day. Harry’s mind should start going into overdrive right…about…now. -o- Sitting at a table with the rest of the wedding party, Ginny munched on a sandwich and ran her eyes over the crowd at the tables and on the dance floor, having been unable to see most of them before the ceremony. She had an enjoyable time lazily arguing with Charlie over which Weasley was going to be the next to be married. Ginny pointed out, quite wisely in her opinion, that Charlie was the next in line, age-wise. Charlie countered merely by grinning and pointing to the center of the dance floor, where Ron and Hermione were completely absorbed in each other. That was the end of the argument. Ginny shook her head, watching Ron and Hermione. Honestly, if someone who lived in Romania could see it…and then something yellow floated through her vision. It was Luna, spinning around in some form of dance. Ginny excused herself from Charlie, paused to kiss Bill’s scarred cheek, and went to her friend. “Luna! How are you?” Luna opened her large eyes, but continued to revolve slowly. “Oh, hi Ginny. I’m quite well, and you?” “I’m great,” replied Ginny, and she found that at the moment she meant it. “It’s a good day, isn’t it?” “Yes,” said Luna serenely. “I’ve always liked Fridays.” Ginny laughed, and someone tapped her on the shoulder. She spun around and Lee Jordan was standing behind her. “Do you know where I can find Ginny Weasley? She’s — well, she looks an awful lot like you, but an itsy thing, with all this hair all over the place and she’s probably talking a mile a minute.” Ginny cried “Lee!” in excitement and hugged him tightly. She was quite as close with him as she was with some of her oldest brothers, particularly because she had attended Hogwarts with him for a least a couple of years, but never with Bill or Charlie. “Well, if I can’t find Ginny, would you do me the honor of a dance?” Lee was asking cheekily. “A lovely young woman like yourself, what do I want with my friends’ kid sister anyway?” Ginny wiped the grin off her face and smiled sophisticatedly. “Of course, good sir.” “And what might your name be, mademoiselle?” continued Lee as he took her hand and led her a bit further onto the floor. Ginny waved good-bye to Luna as they walked away, but Luna had begun dancing again and Ginny was quite sure she hadn’t noticed. She turned back to Lee. “Ginevra,” she said, pitching her voice a tone lower than usual and drawing herself up into a formal dance pose. Lee grinned. “I like it.” He grabbed her by the waist and swung her around as Ginny shrieked with laughter. -o- She danced with Lee three more times, as well as with Bill (before Fleur snatched him back possessively), Charlie (before he was drawn into a conversation with Hagrid about Norberta), Fred (before he disappeared with one of Fleur’s female cousins) George (before he quickly followed suit), her father, Monsieur Delacour, two of Bill’s friends from school who’d always had a soft spot for her, and a few of what she thought must be Fleur’s cousins. She felt a rush of pleasure every time she registered that Harry had his eye on her. Exhausted, Ginny collapsed into her chair at the now-empty wedding party table and started to consider whether she should give Harry the chance to ask her to dance. It wouldn’t look suspicious for her to be dancing with a cousin, after all. She hadn’t been there more than a few minutes, enjoying being off her feet, when Ron wandered over. “What happened to all the waiters with the butterbeers?” he wondered out loud. “We’re thirsty.” Ginny arched an eyebrow. “We?” Ron looked down at her. “Yeah. Me and Hermione, we’re thirsty.” Ginny drew a deep breath in thrilled preparation — Ron hadn’t walked into like this when they were alone for ages — when something bright in the corner of her eye caught her attention. It was obviously a Patronus, but what? Some sort of…cat…? Then its mouth opened as that of her father’s weasel had, and Ginny heard Kingsley’s voice as clearly as if he were standing right next to her. “The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming.” There were a few moments where the talk and music slowly died. Then, to Ginny’s left, she heard a scream of fear and fury. She turned and saw Fleur there, standing with Bill, who looked grim, his scars thrown into sharp relief by the lantern light. People began running, turning, disappearing…Ginny stayed where she was. She climbed on top of her chair and frantically searched the crowd to find her family. Ron had disappeared from her side and was making his way through the throng. Her father was yelling for people to get out; Charlie, Fred and George were all darting toward the crowd from their respective corners. Ginny couldn’t see her mother yet. As the first few unwelcome guests began to appear, clad in dark robes, Ginny found Ron again. He had reached Hermione, who was sobbing, and took her hand. Harry was already holding the other one. Ginny heard Lupin and Tonks yelling Shield Charms — Hermione turned on the spot — and they were gone. Ginny didn’t have time to think. Her mother burst through the crowd and pulled her off the chair. “Ginny, get inside! NOW!” she yelled. And Ginny knew that now was not the time for arguing and she sprinted. Before she had reached the door to the kitchen, however, a streak of light shot past her face. She turned to find an unfamiliar wizard stalking towards her, and as he raised his wand a second time she cried “Protego!” and the spell bounced off her shield to hit the wizard in the chest. He fell to the floor in a heap. That…felt good. And Ginny did not try to get to the Burrow again, but started hitting every cloaked and masked figure she could find, using Full Body-Binds and Stunners and anything else she could think of. Tables and chairs were smashing beside her and the remains of broken champagne bottles littered the floor as a few unlucky duelers slipped in the spilled champagne, giving their opponent a momentary upper hand. With every curse she cast, Ginny felt a bit of the feelings of uselessness and loneliness and abandonment that had set in the moment Harry had disappeared with Ron and Hermione lift. Her hair fell out of its elegant style and flew around her as the tiny pearls clattered to the floor and disappeared. Behind her, she heard the door to the Burrow slam, and knew that the Death Eaters had entered the house. Rather than think about what would have happened if she had been in the kitchen waiting like her mum had told her to, she dodged a flash of purple light and took out another masked figure with an Impediment Curse as he dove for his fallen wand. Before he could regain movement, she shot a Stunner at him and saw him go limp. She heard a familiar scream, and saw that Fleur was locked in combat with a Death Eater not twenty feet away. Her perfect face was distorted with rage and angry tears rolled down her cheeks as she shrieked spell after spell, a few of which Ginny did not even recognize. Ginny hung back, wanting to let Fleur have him, to have her revenge for her ruined wedding, but the tears must have been blurring her eyes because in a moment she was disarmed, her wand flying out of sight. Ginny had her wand out before either of them could make another move, and suddenly the Death Eater’s mask was off, but his face was still covered by enormous flapping things. He fell to the ground, bellowing, and Ginny cried “Accio!” Fleur’s wand flew into her hand from the corner, and Ginny tossed it to her. With a look of gruesome satisfaction, Fleur Stunned the writhing wizard, and the two sisters-in-law merely looked at each other. An unpleasant feeling rolled into Ginny’s stomach as cracks sounded all around them. She slowly turned to see that they were surrounded by many, many more figures — too many. Every one of them had their wand out. A voice yelled, “STOP!” Silence fell as the combatants realized what had happened. It remained for several long seconds until a figure stepped forward and removed his mask. Ginny stifled a gasp as she recognized the hard-faced Death Eater from the battle at Hogwarts at the end of the previous year. Her father had clearly recognized him as well; he growled and demanded, “What do you want from us, Yaxley? This is my son’s wedding-” “I'd say it was your son’s wedding, Weasley,” Yaxley cut in smoothly, surveying the wreckage. Fleur sobbed. The door to the Burrow flew open and a hulking, bearded wizard appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. “Yaxley, no one’s here, except — well, you’ll need to come see this!” “Why don’t we all go inside?” Yaxley suggested, almost pleasantly, but his scowling face could not manage to agree with his tone. Ginny could see every wedding guest left — her brothers (minus Ron), her parents, Lee, Elphias Doge, Monsieur Delacour, Lupin and Tonks, Hagrid, and to her surprise, Viktor Krum, glance around and take a quick count. They were outnumbered three to one. Ginny met her father’s eyes and he jerked his head toward the kitchen. The wedding guests silently filed in and took seats around the kitchen table. There wasn’t quite enough room in the tiny kitchen, but rather than separate, they shared chairs. Tonks sat on Lupin’s lap and put her arms around his neck. Her look of misery matched his own for once. Fred and George perched themselves on the windowsill and Fleur collapsed into Bill’s lap, burying her face desolately into his shoulder. Ginny found herself being pulled protectively into Charlie’s lap, and his hand rubbed her back reassuringly as he stared stonily at the Death Eaters who had followed them in. Mum and Dad remained standing, and Hagrid hovered just outside the open door, his mass unable to fit inside. Everyone was still in their formal clothes, though they were now rather disheveled. Fleur’s dress was torn and charred. The enormous wizard who had shouted from the door was whispering something in Yaxley’s ear. Yaxley glanced at Ginny’s parents, looking displeased. “Who is upstairs, Weasley?” “No one!” said Mum immediately. Dad shushed her. “Albert here has informed me that there is someone in the attic bedroom…a very unhealthy-looking someone. Who is it?” Dad answered this time. “My youngest son, Ron — he’s been ill for several weeks now.” George piped up from the window, “He’s got a bad case of spattergroit.” Fred nodded emphatically. Ginny eyed the twins suspiciously. Clearly this story had been planned, and without Mum’s knowledge. Everyone else looked just as confused as Mum now did, especially Krum, but fortunately wiped the looks off their faces rather quickly. Yaxley, still eying Dad, didn’t notice. “Is this true?” Yaxley addressed the room in general now, and they all nodded. Even Fleur pulled her face from Bill’s shoulder to nod affirmatively and say, “We were ‘oping ‘e would be better by ze wedding, but ‘e ‘as only gotten worse.” “Poor child,” added Monsieur Delacour convincingly. Yaxley cast his beady eyes around the room, finally landing on Ginny. Charlie’s arm tightened about her waist as he approached her and leaned in. “Is this true, little girl?” Yaxley asked smugly, apparently convinced he had found the weak link in the room. Ginny lifted her face bravely, tried to look young and undeniably honest, and lied, “At first I thought he was trying to get out of helping get ready for the wedding — it’s what I’d’ve done — but when he said he’d lost his appetite we knew he must really be sick.” Lee snorted quietly behind her. Yaxley seemed slightly more convinced, but he still turned to the huge wizard behind him and ordered him to go upstairs and check more closely. The wizard, though, shook his head vehemently. “I’m not going near anyone with spattergroit, Yaxley. Deadly contagious, that is.” The fact struck Yaxley and he looked momentarily stumped. Finally he must have decided the best thing to do was just believe the story, and he said, “Well then, we have some questions for the rest of you.” As Ginny’s family and friends, one by one, swore up and down they hadn’t seen Harry — some believing they were telling the truth, some lying through their teeth, Ginny leaned into Charlie and hoped that wherever Harry, Ron and Hermione were, they were safe. And, preferably, assuming that more important things like staying alive weren’t on his mind, that Harry was imagining her in her dress. |
| Reviews 19 |
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