Title: "Seeking Ginny"

Author: Casca

Rating: PG

Spoilers: Through Goblet

Classification: Post-Hogwarts H/G

Summary: Ginny Weasley has tried for years to bring to an end to her feelings for Harry Potter… she's even uprooted her life… but what happens when it's time to come face to face with him again? A post-Hogwarts tale revolving around Ginny's discovery of herself…while coming to terms with her feelings for Harry.…

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

A/N: This chapter has been revised as of December 2005.

Chapter Eight

Home. It was so difficult for Ginny to believe that she was actually home for good, yet it was so easy to just…fall into it. She found herself in her own element over the next few weeks. Most of her childhood had been spent at Hogwarts and the summers had seemed to go by so quickly that she'd barely had a chance to get settled before she was being whisked off to school again. Now she was simply home, with nowhere to go at the end of the summer and no school or university waiting for her. She could stay here forever if she wanted…and it seemed a very tempting prospect indeed.

She loved everything that came with being home. She loved waking up to the smells of breakfast in the morning and padding downstairs to have tea with her mother. She loved being in the middle of the family drama again and prying into her brothers' lives, giving unsolicited advice.  She loved greeting her father when he came home from work and hearing about the latest regurgitating toilet or whatever happened to be the subject of the most interesting Ministry tale of the day. She loved talking with Ron and Hermione after dinner, then, after Hermione trudged home, playing cards with Ron.  She would never admit it but she loved living with Ron, in a room right below his once again. She loved weeknight dinners, mostly consisting of her parents, Ron, and herself. Occasionally another brother or Hermione would join them, and on the days that Molly minded Julian, Charlie and Emma would turn up after work. She loved weekends even more because it meant more people, more brothers, and more activity.

Of course, there were also mornings when she awoke thinking she could hear Brian in the living room and was actually surprised when she opened her eyes to find herself in her old bedroom. There were the moments when she realized that it was Christian's night off and went to grab some parchment to send a quick owl to Aurelie reminding her to turn off the burners on the cauldrons—only to realize that any post she sent Aurelie would now take days to reach her.  Those were the times when she felt a stab of loss that such a huge part of her life was finished. Those were the time when she missed her life in Paris almost desperately.

As the weeks passed, a different life began to take shape and it became so full that Ginny found she wasn't as guilty as she thought she probably should be at not having started work yet. She spent most of her free time with Sarah, who seemed to have a great deal of freedom at her new job.  They went into London, had dinner with both of their families, and watched films on Mr. Murphy's television set.  Her friendship with Sarah was just as effortless as it had been five years ago, though slightly more mature due to the fact that they were both five years older and wiser. Ginny saw Brian mainly on weekends or evenings as he was forced to fit her into his work schedule, not to mention keeping up with his usual two to three dates per week. There were people from Hogwarts all over the place, shocked to see Ginny back and wanting to make plans to meet up. She helped her mother with the housework, helped mind Julian (who, despite everyone's predictions, did not seem to be warming to Ginny at all) and spent lots of time reading about translation jobs that were available.  She spent the little gold she had left from her café wages sparingly and, since there wasn’t much left, gratefully accepted the twins' offer to mind the till in their Hogsmeade shop a few afternoons out of the week.

Ginny tied her black apron from the Le Papillon on the hook of her closet door where her Gryffindor tie was in a bow round the knob.  Looking at them together gave her a sense of accomplishment.  It was as though she'd lived two lives already and the third was just starting.  It was both thrilling and scary, especially since she was rather comfortable living in between.

The beginning of her fourth week at home, however, the pressure of not having a real job, or even being close to having a real job, began to sink in. She received a short note from Brian asking if they could skip lunch and have dinner instead because was going to have to work through his lunch hour. After writing back in agreement, Ginny stuck her head in the fire to call on Sarah, but it appeared she was also working, as Mrs. Murphy cheerfully confirmed around the gum in her mouth.

Ginny emerged from the fireplace smiling at the differences between her own mother and Sarah's, but her smile evaporated as she stood in the middle of her empty kitchen.  Her mum was out with Julian, all of her brothers were working, it wasn't her day on duty at the shop, and her friends had jobs.  It was then that Ginny realized that she was the only person in her family who had no obligations.

As she thought about it, she came to the conclusion that she wasn't as upset with not having a job as she was with the fact that she didn’t know what sort of thing she wanted to do. She knew that she didn’t want any of the jobs that Brian and Bill and her dad had told her about but at the same time felt as though she was being too selective, that she was looking for something that didn't exist.

"A job's a job, Ginny," Ron had told her matter-of-factly the other night when she'd declined Bill's offer to get her an interview for a Gringotts translator position.  "You're not going to like it, nobody likes their job."

"Not true," Hermione had broken in.

"Nobody normal," Ron had corrected.

"If you are doing something you enjoy, then—"

"Who enjoys working?"

This had lead to a debate in which Ginny wholeheartedly agreed with Hermione. Ron's comment hadn't really bothered her then, but now she was starting to wonder.  Was there a job out there where she could have fun or was that only possible when you were not taking it seriously. Was it only possible for studious people like Hermione to love their careers?

She brought this up to her mother when she arrived home, groceries and a bouncing Julian in tow. Molly made a rather surprising comment as they began putting the food away.

"Ginny, you've been working non-stop for five years, at university and your café." 

Julian's 'whoosh, whoosh!' noises could be heard from the garden as he zoomed around on a toy broomstick.

Molly continued, "There's no harm in taking some time off to try and work out what it is that you want to do with your life." 

This statement helped punctuate Brian's later declaration when she met him for dinner that night. "Gin, you'll know it when you see it—that's how you work—" he took a long sip of his drink—"so just shut up and keep looking and relax until then, won't you?"

So she forced herself to loosen up about it all, though the guilt of still living at home, taking a charity job from the twins, and not doing anything productive was still there. She felt like she was in the middle of a long journey and she had suddenly reached a resting point. It was okay to stop and take a take a break for a while, but deep inside, she knew that any moment the urge to start up again would come.

"I completely understand how you feel, Ginny," Sarah told her feelingly, her wide, blue-gray eyes filled with sympathy.  "I don't know what I would do if I was in your position, not knowing what you wanted to do and where you were going to be in, say, five years. If it were me, I would be panicking."

Ginny couldn't help but smile at Sarah's less-than comforting words which, oddly enough, made Ginny feel more reassured than her mother's or Brian's advice.  The two of them were sitting in Sarah's kitchen one sunny afternoon, eating Mrs. Murphy's homemade trifle. The first bite made Ginny close her eyes and forget she had any troubles at all.

"How did I survive five years without this?" she muttered, as if in a trance and carefully spooned some more before lifting it slowly to her lips.

Sarah giggled.  "You look like you're an adverts actress."

"You mean like on the television?" Ginny asked, savoring the pudding.

 "Yeah… and you didn't go five years without it. Mum made it for you one time when you came home for a visit… can't remember when…."

"It must have been years… but anyway, I'm glad you see it my way, Sarah. Brian was yelling at me for worrying and Mum was also telling me to take my time...and I'm going to, but I do feel nervous about it. I should be doing something, you know?"

"You're working at the joke shop, though, aren't you? That's something. Incidentally, I was going to ask you to ask Fred and George if they need any more help at one of the locations."

"Why?" Ginny grinned.  "You want to try your hand at mixing Canary Creams?"

"No," Sarah laughed, "it's for Rosemary."

Ginny had a mental picture of a plump girl of about eight years old with thick glasses and two long brown braids. "Your cousin? Isn't she a little young for a job?"

Sarah smiled.  "Not really. She's been out of Hogwarts for a year now and my aunt and uncle are ready to chuck her out – all she does is sit around and read all day. She shows no signs of motivation.  They want her to learn responsibility."

Ginny wrinkled her nose.  "I dunno how she'll learn responsibility working for Fred and George, but I'll ask them. George was saying that Hogsmeade weekends are the busiest times, even busier than summer and with Hogwarts starting up again next month and everything, they'll probably need more help."

"That would be really great," Sarah said. "Especially if she can work with you. You can talk to her about university and all that."

"I'm hardly the role model," Ginny laughed.

Sarah shook her head and stood to bring her bowl to the sink.  "You've worked really hard, Ginny. You don't give yourself enough credit."

Ginny looked down at her plate, feeling slightly humbled by Sarah's nonchalant words. It was startling that she, Ginny, could possibly be a role model for anyone. 

Setting her spoon down, Ginny pushed back from the table.  "I've got to be off—George wanted me to help him stock shelves today."

"Oh—wait, you have to give something to Fred for me," Sarah said, hurrying out of the room and dashing up the living room stairs.  Ginny had a brief second to wonder what in the world Sarah had for Fred when pounding footsteps sounded on the stairs and Sarah returned with a glass jar in her hand.

"What is this?" Ginny asked curiously, taking the jar and peering at what seemed to be a sort of cream inside it.

"It's lotion.  Fred needs to give that to Angelina Johnson."

"Angelina?"

"Yeah," Sarah sighed. "Mum's good friends with Mrs. Johnson, you know, and she gave some to her and Mrs. Johnson loves it and now Angelina wants a jar.  Apparently she really loves it, too," Sarah shrugged.

"Where did you get it?"  Ginny asked turning the jar over in her hand.  It didn't look like the sort of packaging that hand lotion came in—it appeared to be an old marmalade jar.

"I made it," Sarah said. "D'you want some?  It's rather nice."

Ginny barely had time to answer before Sarah was dashing up the stairs again and returning with yet another jar, this one displaying a pickle label. "Here. You should have your mum try it...it's great for dry, overworked hands."

"Hmm," Ginny said, opening the jar and holding it up to her nose.  A pleasant, rather clean scent filled her nostrils.  "That's nice...what is it?"

"Erm…in that one, it's…" Sarah took the bottle and held it up to her nose.  "Ah, eucalyptus."

"Isn't that a tree?" Ginny asked. 

Sarah smiled. "Yes, I've used the oils from the leaves and combined them with natural oils from Mum's Sprouting Herb Tree and a few simple fragrance charms for a clean, soap-like scent."

Ginny stared at Sarah as if natural oils from the Sprouting Herb Tree were spilling from her nose.  It was true that Sarah had been very gifted at Herbology in school, but she'd never shown any real interest in it outside of their lessons. Ginny could certainly not recall Sarah mentioning the desire to create hand lotion from trees.

"They also contain drops of Ylang Ylang—that's a botanical oil that aids in relieving stress and fears, so it will help you deal with your job troubles," Sarah said brightly. 

"Wow, that's…really cool."  Ginny opened the jar and recognized the scent of lavender.  "I didn't know you liked to do this sort of thing."

"It's strange really, how it happened. I just got the idea one day...there's a lot of natural ingredients in hand lotions, and I thought of combining them with magical ones to see what happened and… well, the result is really nice."  She hesitated.  "D'you have to be at the joke shop right away?  There's something that I want to show you."

Ginny was so surprised by this new side of Sarah and intrigued at the sudden sparkle that had jumped into her friend's eyes that she didn’t care about being late. George wouldn't mind.  She followed Sarah up the staircase onto the landing and watched as her friend climbed clumsily onto a chair, almost losing her balance, but steadying herself enough to reach up to the ceiling and pull down the attic door. Sarah had to duck so that the ladder didn't hit her on the head.

“Sorry," she explained, breathlessly, wiping her fringe out of her eyes. "My lab is up there."

"Lab!" Ginny said, startled.  "Sarah, are you living a double life?"

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Go on, then."

Ginny cringed as Sarah started to climb the ladder unsteadily, occasionally missing a rung, and she followed her up into the attic. With slight difficulty herself, Ginny pushed herself to her feet, straightened up and dusted off her jeans.  Her mouth dropped open.

She'd been in Sarah's attic once before and that had been for a slumber party one summer. It had looked just like a normal attic—cluttered and messy but with enough room for five girls to camp out on the floor in sleeping bags.  But now, it was completely transformed into… a huge mess.  There were cauldrons stacked everywhere, some on burners; one was emitting purple smoke and Ginny wondered if that was the cause for the room smelling like a florists.  Or perhaps it was the table full of dead flowers in the corner…or the one piled with bottles of perfume. There were more tables, all pressed up against each other, positively covered with jars and buckets and bottles in all sizes from tall and thin to short and round, from empty to full, from colorful liquids to thick, paste-like substances. Shelves were stacked with huge arrays of potion ingredients and spices which looked like they might topple over any second.  Books were stacked on every bit of floor space and plants of all kinds were sprouting from pots, hanging from the ceiling and… wrapping around her ankle.

Ginny yelped and reached down to yank the wandering branch off her leg. Glaring at it, she restrained herself from kicking its pot.

"Sarah," Ginny said weakly.  "Do your mum and dad know about this?"

"What… my lab?" Sarah asked in surprise, looking around as if it was nothing more than a knitting corner.  "Of course they do."

"And your dad… he's okay with you turning the attic into… into… a lab?" For lack of a better word, Ginny thought.

Sarah sighed.  "Well, he was a bit cross about the plant thing, but he is a Muggle, you know, and so I explained to him that some magical plants don’t die if they're deprived of sunlight, they just get really, really angry and that can cause rare, but very useful things to occur.  Take that Claw Blossom over there—don’t look at it directly, Ginny, it hates that.  When you don’t give it proper sunlight, it gets so angry that it begins to spit a venom that actually works wonders on dandruff…."

By the time Ginny had left Sarah's lab, her head was swimming from the strong fragrances and she was trying to process the fact that Sarah was currently creating her own line of beauty products.  It was so completely out of character that Ginny barely said goodbye to her, clutching the two jars of lotion, as she climbed onto the bright red Muggle bicycle parked outside Sarah's house.

"Don’t forget to give that to Fred," Sarah called.

"I won't," Ginny said, putting the jars in the basket and tapping her wand to the handle of the bike.  It rose into the air and, after another tap, disappeared.   

Sarah grinned and waved.  "See you tomorrow, Miss Gulch."

Ginny was not about to ponder the new nickname Sarah had given her since she'd seen Ginny's new bicycle, the coming-home gift her father had worked so hard on. Something to do with a Muggle film, Sarah had told her, but Ginny was too preoccupied just then with Sarah's little inventions to think about much else.  As she rode home, she couldn’t help but smile at the thought of Sarah in the attic, brewing hair potions and hand lotions and Merlin knew what else. 

~*~

It was a short ride back to the Burrow but Ginny wished it were longer. Though she hadn’t thought so at first, the bicycle from her father had been a perfect gift. As the days at home began to pass, she found that she didn’t get as much exercise here as she had in Paris.  Nobody walked here, it was all about Floo or Apparition and though like everyone else, she found it so much more convenient than having restrictions on Apparition distances, Ginny missed her walks to work and l'Academie.  Riding her bike gave her that peaceful time for thought and was much more refreshing than walking. 

She arrived home and threw the bike down in the garden, racing into the house and to the fireplace.  She managed to communicate to her mother that she was late for the joke shop before flinging herself into the kitchen fire and emerging in the shop.

"You're late," George said crisply, yanking her out of the fireplace.  "And why don’t you ever Apparate?"

"I'm not used to it," she said, trying to climb out of the fire as he manhandled her.  She tried to shove him away but he dragged her by the arm and hurled her towards the till. 

"He was next."  He pointed to a boy of about twelve at the front of a very long line. It was then that Ginny noticed the place was packed with customers. She looked around and saw that Fred was nowhere to be found, nor were any of their part-time help.  Ginny suddenly felt guilty for being so late.

It was nearly three hours before the crowd cleared off, but it felt like three minutes. By the end of it, though, Ginny was hoarse from answering questions and her head was beginning to pound.  She rubbed her temples as the bells on George's till rang and he handed the change to the only customer left in the shop. 

"I'm sorry," she said to him when he was finally free, "I didn’t think it would be so busy.  I was at Sarah's."

"Sarah's too wild, Ginny, she's a bad influence on you."

Ginny smiled weakly and sank down onto a stool.  "That's what Mum used to say about you and Fred. Didn't you say that you had a Hogwarts student working summer afternoons?"

"Evenings. Bloody idiot if you ask me, though, can’t even tell the difference between a sherbet lemon and a Canary Cream—everyone knows what Canary Creams look like, that's why we have to redesign them every three months. What's this?"  George asked, lifting the marmalade jar with Sarah's hand cream in it. 

"Oh. It’s for Fred...well, for Angelina. Sarah made it."

George nodded and handed the jar to Ginny, who had just thought of something.  "Hey, whatever happened with Fred and Angelina, then?  It was my… third year I think when they broke up and I never heard anything more about it."

"Wonder why…perhaps it was none of your business?"

"Seriously.  What happened?"

"Seriously.  What happened?" George mimicked her.

"George, come on, we're both adults, you can tell me—"

"George come on, we're both adults—"

"Oh, you are so annoying."

"Oh, you are so—"

Ginny groaned loudly, drowning him out, and hopped off her stool.  "I guess we're not both adults, how could I have been so stupid as to think so?"

"I raised you, young lady!" George's mock voice trailed off as Ginny closed the back room door behind her and went to a cupboard where she knew they kept butterbeer.  She made sure to double check for "special" ingredients with a careful spell before tipping the bottle back and taking a huge sip.  She sighed afterwards and looked at the bottle appreciatively.  It hadn't taken her long to get used to British butterbeer again.  Indeed everything at home seemed ten times better than the French version.  Except for the cafés, she thought with a grin and emerged from the room into the shop.

She continued to try to get George to talk about the now intriguing breakup of Angelina and Fred as they both stocked the shelves with more product. Ginny kneeled at the 'Be a Bird Barrel,' refilling it with loose Peacock Tarts, Canary Creams, Owl Eats and Parrott Pills from huge boxes of each sweet surrounding her.  George stood in a corner and levitated boxes and boxes of Levitating Sugar Quills to an extremely high shelf and was silent as Ginny prattled on.

"I mean the only thing I can’t work out is if Mum was right in guessing that Angelina was the one who broke it off.  That's what Mum told me in secret, anyway. I suppose she probably had her reasons for it, but I just never did see Angelina as being the one to break it off.  Unless Fred did something unforgivable which wouldn’t surprise me at all.  But she's always sort of understood his…faults.  She actually used to say it was one of the reasons she liked him so much. But then again, Fred—"

"Fred what?"

They both looked to see Fred himself walking through the door, accompanied by an elephant's roar and a trailing Ron. George shot Ginny an extremely subtle look as he passed her but the message was clear. Shut it.

"Nothing, I was just talking about what a great ugly prat you are," Ginny said, smiling brightly at him. 

"Thanks," he said. "You're fired."

"Yes, well, about that thing that blares whenever someone walks through the door.  It's a bit annoying, Fred, and the customers think so as well...”

"It's all about marketing, Gin," said Fred with a huge wink.  "Advertising the next product."

"Something to do with elephants? I can hardly wait. Are you running out of ideas lately, because I can certainly do better than elephants."

"You've lost your touch, ever since you went all French on us. I don’t even think I trust you with our secrets anymore," Fred told her.

Despite the fact that she knew he was joking, and that he knew just the thing to say to get a rise out of her, Ginny felt a stab of the old defensiveness. Flashing back to all the times she'd vowed to prove herself when they wouldn’t let her be a part of their team, she stuck out her bottom lip and said, "I have not lost my touch."

But Fred and George weren't paying much attention to her; they both became preoccupied with the contents of the brown paper bag that Fred had brought in. Ginny looked at Ron. "What time are we meeting for dinner tonight?"

There was a chorus of whoa's from both Fred and George. "Trying to make us jealous, isn’t she?"

"Seven. Across the street," Ron said.

Ginny's eyes lit up. "The Three Broomsticks?" She clasped her hands happily and Ron rolled his eyes.

Since she'd arrived home, Ginny had frequented The Three Broomsticks as often as she possibly could.  She couldn’t help it, she loved it in there. It reminded her of Hogwarts and she always saw somebody from the old days. She'd talked for hours with Madam Rosmerta about Le Papillon and some of the drink recipes (not Christian's secret ones) that had been huge sellers. It seemed that Ginny had become rather attached to the place during her youth and since she'd been deprived of it for the past five years, she felt completely justified in dragging people there at least twice a week.

"Yeah," said Ron.  "But don’t thank me, Hermione was the one who insisted. Bottomless Goblet was my choice after a long, hard day at work."  This was emphasized with a yawn and a stretch.

"Bottomless Goblet," Ginny said. "That's all everyone can talk about.  What's so special about it, anyway?"

"They have twelve kinds of Firewhisky," George said getting a dreamy look in his eyes.  "Dragon's Breath. Intimate Inferno. Imploding Arctic."

"Imploding Acrtic is a bloody masterpiece," Fred said.

Ginny wrinkled her nose.  "I'll stick to my butterbeer, thank you." She looked at her watch.  "Well, it seems my shift is over."

"You were three hours late," George exclaimed.  "What the bugger are we paying you for?" 

She rolled her eyes. "My lovely way with the customers! And it wasn't three hours, it was an hour, if that. I have to get ready for my dinner party now."

"Dinner party… with this idiot and his wife."

"Not wife yet," Ron muttered, going red. 

Fred snorted. "I have news for you Ronniekins, Hermione's been your wife since your first year at Hogwarts." 

Ginny had a glimpse of Ron's ears as they turned bright purple. She got out before it became ugly.

~*~

Ginny dressed selectively, making herself pretty, thinking that she may run into someone that she hadn't seen in a while, as was usually the case these days.  She let her hair frame her face and chose a yellow sweater with a scooped neckline.  Since she didn’t want to get dust on her clothes, she decided to Apparate, though she wasn't too fond of it.  It was rather silly, but she associated Apparating with two-day journeys in crowded stations. 

She arrived outside The Three Broomsticks with a few minutes to spare and when she stepped inside, the atmosphere of the pub was unusually lazy.  There were a few tables occupied by families, but the place wasn’t bouncing like it would have been on a weekend.  Among the few couples sitting at scattered tables, Ginny spotted the one she was seeking. She hurried to the round table where Hermione and Ron were sitting and slid into the seat next to Hermione.

"Hello," she said cheerfully, eyeing the lab coat that was hung neatly over the back of Hermione's chair.  "Have you just come from work?"

Hermione heaved a sigh.  "Oh, not really; things were so hectic after my shift, I didn’t have time to change my clothes."

"Oh, well, don’t feel bad—at least you didn’t have to leave a job at the joke shop to come here," Ginny said, rolling her eyes.  "So tell me, what's it like working where you don’t have to stock bloody Peacock Tarts?"

Hermione grinned.  "Actually, it's been so interesting, lately…"  She hesitated.  "I don’t want to bore you with the details—"

"Not at all, I'd love to hear what you're working on!" Ginny exclaimed and ignored Ron's inquiry whether she knew what she was getting into by saying that.  Hermione, also ignoring Ron's comment, launched into an explanation of the sort of things she was doing at her job.  Hermione worked for St. Mungo's researching laboratory where she had recently begun experimenting with combining magical ingredients for Muggle medicines.

It was ten minutes later that Ginny began to regret showing interest in Hermione's job. Hermione had barely taken a breath to stop talking about it. Thankfully, Madam Rosmerta saved them, sliding up to the table just when Ginny thought her head might explode. She sent them all a wink.

"What can I get for you, children?"

Hermione started, looking at her watch.  "He's really late, isn't he?"

"Yeah," Ron said, "So?"

"Well, it's just—"

"Who?" Ginny asked. 

"Harry," Ron and Hermione chimed.

"Harry's coming?"  Ginny asked in surprise.

"Supposedly," Hermione said, frowning.   

"We're going to wait," Ron told Rosmerta, who nodded and sauntered off.

"We wanted to talk to both of you about the wedding," Hermione said, glancing at her watch again. 

"He should be here any minute, he's coming from work," Ron said. "So anyway, no more work talk at dinner—it's rude for the small people who don't understand."

"Fine with me—I have no job to speak of," Ginny said, sighing.  "Not that it matters, I've discovered I'm quite good at being unemployed."

"And no talking about not having a job," Ron said.

Ginny rolled her eyes.  "That's fine, you go ahead and keep the conversation going, then."

"Cool.  The Cannons."

"No Quidditch talk at dinner," Hermione cut in.  "It's rude for the people who don’t follow it."

Ginny laughed.  "But I wouldn’t mind that, actually. I mean, erm, Hermione doesn't want to talk about Quidditch, so I don’t either," she declared, when Hermione sent her a look.

"Thank goodness you’re back, Ginny," Hermione sighed.  "If I had to go through this wedding without any female help, I’d be going mad."

"Well, I'm here, so you don't have to worry," she patted Hermione's shoulder.

"Hi," said a fourth voice. Harry had arrived. He shrugged out of his black business robe, revealing a white shirt and navy blue tie.  As he settled himself on the stool, he loosened the tie, looking around at them.  "Sorry."

"Where were you?" Hermione asked quietly. 

Harry paused while yanking at his tie and turned his head towards Hermione. 

"Where do you think he was, Hermione?" Ron answered impatiently.  "Anyway, it's a good thing you showed up when you did, mate, they were just starting to gang up on me.  I was outnumbered." 

"You want to talk about being outnumbered!" Ginny exclaimed, passing a menu to Harry.  "Story of my life, that. I can title my autobiography, ‘Ginny Weasley, Outnumbered At Birth’."

They all laughed.

"Are you writing an autobiography?" Hermione asked brightly.

Ginny nearly choked.  "No!  It would have about three chapters in it."

Hermione exclaimed. "But you've done all sorts of fascinating things—going to University in Paris—"

"That's not fascinating, believe me.  So, anyway, you wanted to talk to us about the wedding?"

"Oh. Yes." She straightened in her chair. "So—" 

"Well, it's about time, we were about ready to give up on you," said a saucy female voice. Rosmerta had appeared again, slapping Harry playfully on the shoulder.  "Ready to order yet?"

Hermione opened her menu, looking a bit hassled that she'd been interrupted and everyone else followed suit besides Harry, who had been rather engrossed in reading the menu since Ginny has passed it to him. 

"I think I'll just have the soup," Hermione said, passing the menu to Rosmerta.

"Me too," said Harry. "And a steak."

Ginny smiled at that.  "The soup as well for me and a fruit plate."

Rosmerta looked to Ron, who rolled up his sleeves and began rattling off what he wanted. While he was talking, Ginny saw Hermione look justifiably appalled at the quantity of Ron's order, and even Harry glanced at Ron peculiarly when he mentioned poetically that he wanted the cheese on his potatoes to resemble a river. 

"All right," Rosmerta said after having to stop and write down Ron's specific instructions. Rosmerta was so good at her job, she could usually remember an order with no notes at all.  "Is that all, then?"

"That'll be all," Ginny said.  Rosmerta left and Ginny looked at Ron with a completely baffled expression. 

"D'you think you’ve ordered enough to last you through dinner, Ron?"

"I haven't eaten since lunch, Ginny," he said meaningfully and Ginny shook her head.

"Neither have any of us, and we didn’t order half the menu."

"Excuse me if I don’t order a bloody fruit plate and call it a meal."

"Stop fighting, please, we have a lot to talk about here," Hermione said, heaving a sigh.

"We do?" Harry asked, speaking to the group for the first time since he'd apologized for being late.

"Yes, we do," Hermione said, looking at him.  "I was telling Ginny before you arrived—" Hermione stressed the last few words—"that we wanted to talk to you both about the wedding."

Harry had lifted a brow at Hermione's blatant reiteration that he'd been late and said nothing.

"So, just go ahead, then Hermione. Sorry we got off track," Ginny said.

"That's alright," Hermione said, taking a deep breath. "So, to start—"

"I forgot to get your drink order," Rosmerta said cheerily, appearing again.

Hermione practically deflated in front of them.

"You know what, Rosmerta?" Ginny asked, noticing that Hermione seemed to be getting more disappointed by the minute.  "I am going to break my no-drinking rule in honor of my brother and Hermione's engagement."

"Congratulations," Rosmerta said, her eyes lighting up.

"Thank you," said Ginny before Hermione or Ron could say anything.  "Now, if you please, Rosmerta, a bottle of champagne?"

"I'd like a Firewhisky," Harry said quickly.

"Yeah, make that two," Ron said.

"A Pimms for me," said Hermione.  

"Wait!" cried Ginny, but Rosmerta had walked off.  

"Whole bottles of champagne, Ginny?" Ron asked before she could say anything.  "I guess you really did turn French in Paris."

"It was supposed to be—"

"I mean, really, I know we used to tease you about the no-drinking thing, but this is ridiculous."

"Shut up, Ron—"

"Don’t worry, there might be a program you can join, you know, that will help you become… well, less French."

Ginny normally didn’t let Ron's joking get to her.  But the fact was that Hermione looked like her head was about to explode from being interrupted so many times and Ginny just didn’t find the matter funny at all, no matter how dedicated Ron was to the joke. However, Ginny was then lead against her better judgment when Rosmerta arrived with their drinks.  She passed Ron, Hermione, and Harry their drinks, then planted the bottle of champagne right in front of Ginny before walking off. 

They all looked at the bottle and for a moment, nobody said anything.  Then Hermione let out a little giggle and Ron's eyes lit up so that it was apparent how many jokes were running through his head.  It didn't take long for a grin to tug at Harry's mouth and Ron to make a comment about Ginny not even needing a glass before they all, including Ginny, burst into laughter.

Rosmerta, it turned out, was in the process of bringing more champagne glasses and poured out the champagne for everyone, joining them on toasting the engagement. 

"So, now… the floor is yours, Hermione," Ginny declared after Rosmerta has left. 

"Okay, first off, there's something we need to ask you both," Hermione looked at Ron, who looked back at her with a raised brow.

"Up to you, this, I was the one who made the announcement.  And you might want to wait until Ginny's sober."

"I've had two sips, Ron, two sips—"

"Oh, shut up," Hermione said, rolling her eyes.  "My goodness, must you make it so difficult to have a meaningful moment that we'll remember for the rest of our lives?"

"Ginny'll be lucky if she remembers anything at all," Ron said. Harry laughed.

"You—" Ginny began, but Hermione cut her off. 

"As you both know, Harry and Ginny," Hermione said loudly. Harry stopped smiling and pretended to look interested.  "Besides being family, you both are closer to us than anybody," Hermione was speaking very crisply as if she was teaching a lesson.  "There is nobody we'd rather have next to us at the wedding than you two. So, Ginny, will you be my maid of honor, and Harry, will you be Ron's best man?"

Ginny's cheeks hurt.  She realized it was because she was smiling so big.  She swallowed hard against a sudden lump in her throat and cried, "Of course, I will, Hermione!"  Then she stood up and the two of them hugged.  Ron and Harry sat watching them.

"Bloody mad," Ron muttered.

"Well?" Hermione asked, looking at Harry.  "I didn't hear an answer."

"Of course I will," Harry said, grinning.  "Did you think I'd say no?"

Hermione looked at him.  "No," she said, smiling.  "I didn’t."  And before anyone knew it, she'd grabbed Harry by the collar and pulled him to his feet to hug him properly.

After the hugging was over, and after another glass of champagne, they talked about the wedding.  Or, rather, they listened to Hermione talk, each trying to get a word in here and there.  

"Mum says I'm mad, but I think we can pull it off in a year, you know?  There is a lot to do, but if Ron and I spend virtually all of our free time on it, it can be done. And with your help," she looked to Ginny and Harry.  "And of course, your mum said she would do all that she could, as did my parents.  But it is going to be a lot more work if—well," she broke off, looking at Ron nervously.  "I haven’t exactly told you this yet, but I have a bit of an idea.  Your mum thinks it's fantastic.  But of course if you don’t agree, then we can decide on something else, I'm completely open to any ideas you have—"

"Hermione," Ron drawled.  "What's the idea?"

"Well," she smiled at him brightly.   A little overly bright, if you asked Ginny.  "I was thinking that the perfect place to have the wedding… well… would be the Burrow."

"What?!" both Ron and Ginny cried together. 

"Now wait just a minute, before you say anything, I'm not talking about inside the house, I'm talking about outside, in the garden."

"Outside," Ginny said uncertainly.  "Hermione, there's always the chance of rain."

"Yes, but there will be an amazing, beautiful magical tent."  Hermione looked from Ron to Ginny to Harry with an excited gleam in her eyes. 

"You mean like… a camping tent?" Ron asked, dubiously.

"No, no, no," Hermione said impatiently.  "It'll be outdoors, but covered in case of the rain with a very pretty sheer, sparkly cover, almost like a canopy.  And we'll put some anti-water spells all around so there are no mishaps.  And the entire garden will be covered with fairy lights and candles and flowers.  And the dancing floor will be made of a shimmery glass—"

"What if it breaks?" Ron asked.  "Ginny will probably be pissed and fall a few times—"

"Shut up," Ginny commanded.  A smile had begun to form on her lips.  Suddenly, she could picture it… her over-grown, gnome-infested garden completely transformed into exactly what Hermione was saying. And what was more was the memories of all the summers spent in the garden with both Ron and Hermione. Seeing them get married there would be… well… sort of perfect.

And that's what she said.  "I think it's perfect."

Hermione's smile looked like it would crack her face.  "Really?"

"Really," Ginny said.  "Yes, Ron, I'm being serious.  Just trust us, will you?"

Ron looked at Harry, who didn’t seem to be concerned about the location of the wedding. 

"Really?" Ron asked.

"Really," said Ginny and Hermione together.

"Well…I suppose it would be nice not to have to go out for the thing.  I mean… all I have to do is… wake up and go outside, right?"

"Well, you'd have to change your clothes. And perhaps shower," Ginny said. "Do you think you think that might be a problem?"

Ron started to respond, but Hermione saved Ginny from whatever pissed joke he had for her this time. 

"Anyway," she cut in. "I've had some more ideas." She cast her eyes rather nervously in Ron's direction again and Ginny could tell that Hermione was trying very hard not to take complete control and leave Ron out of the decision making, but it was quite obvious who was going to be running this show. 

As Hermione explained in great detail her many ideas about the big day, Ron began to look more and more alarmed.  It was clear that he didn't have the first clue about planning a wedding and Ginny wondered where even Hermione had learned it all.  Probably from books, Ginny was willing to bet, because some of the things Hermione was bringing up were things that Ginny's romantic mind had never even thought about when she used to daydream about her own wedding. 

Smiling a little, and remembering those days, she sneaked a look at Harry. He had never looked more unaware of what was going on around him than he did right now.  He sat there making a dull sport out of tapping his fingers on the table, only stopping to lift his goblet and take a sip. Once again he gave the image of being completely alone, even though there were three people sitting at the same table as him. It was then that Ginny noticed that there were also three empty goblets pushed off to the side, clearly having been his.

"So will you help me on that, Ginny?" Hermione continued. "Merlin knows Harry won't have the time, all the hours he puts in at work."

Harry glanced up at the sound of his name and looked around, as though he was daydreaming in class and a professor had called on him.  

"Oh… sure, I will," Ginny said, having no idea what she was agreeing to.

"Why would you want Harry's help picking out flowers?" Ron questioned loudly.  His hair was standing up a bit from running his hand through while Hermione talked.  "He doesn't know anything about flowers."

Hermione sighed.  "I don’t know, Ron, just to have another opinion, I suppose."

"Well, picking out flowers is something I would like to help you with, Hermione. I love flowers, so it will be fun." Ginny said, trying not to laugh at the thought of Harry choosing between daisies and daffodils. 

"I don’t know about you lot, but I'm knackered," said Ron, yawning loudly.  Feeling a bit relieved, Ginny glanced at Hermione and saw disappointment cross her face. It was awful, Ginny knew, but the truth was as much as she'd been looking forward to discussing the wedding with Hermione, there didn't seem to be much room to say anything at all.

"Bloody hell, Harry." Ron had caught notice of Harry's empty drinks.  "How many did you have?"

"Hmm?" Harry looked up, and Ginny could see that his eyes were indeed a bit bloodshot.  He didn’t look pissed, though, just… tired.  "I have nowhere to go besides bed, Hermione," he said with a slight smile, catching Hermione's sudden concerned and rather stern expression.

"Yes, well… still, Harry."

"I am a bit tired, as well," Ginny said, standing up and taking her light summer cloak from the back of the chair. 

Hermione looked as though she was torn between being disappointed about cutting her wedding talk short and the urge to still dwell on Harry's drink count.  "Well, I suppose we can finish our talk later. It is rather late, isn't it?"

Ginny nodded, noting that it was nearing eleven – not very late in her book, but unlike Hermione, she didn’t have anywhere to be in the morning.  A little voice in her head reminded her that she would be starting to close the café if she were still living in Paris.

"Shall we walk outside together before Apparating, then?" she asked, flipping her cloak over her arm.

She didn’t get an answer right away. Harry, who hadn’t made a move to get up at all, sat with his shoulders slumped, gazing at the table and Ron was watching him from the corner of his eye. 

"I'm… going to stay for a bit," Harry said, once it occurred to him that Ginny had addressed the entire group.  

Hermione hesitated and looked as though she was preparing to say something, but a small shake of the head from Ron stopped her. 

"Suppose you're right, mate," Ron said, settling back in his chair, and reaching for the bottle of champagne.  "We really should finish the bottle."

Harry lifted his eyes to look at Ron as though he knew exactly why he was really staying around.

"All right then," Hermione said, "Ginny, why don’t we have a walk—I'd like to hear your ideas on the sort of robes you'd like for the wedding."

They bade good night to Harry and Ron, then left the pub and stepped outside.  The temperature had dropped and Ginny welcomed it. She was glad for the autumn weather just around the corner.  As they walked, Ginny looked around at the little houses and shops, lopsided buildings, bushels of flowers and stone fixtures.  She couldn’t help but notice the differences between Hogsmeade and Lacasse.  She decided that Lacasse had something that Hogsmeade lacked… a sort of whimsical beauty or elegance to it.  However, Hogsmeade seemed … stronger somehow. Perhaps because she'd been grown up in it, had seen it withstand a war.  Lacasse was beautiful and sparkling and full of charm and wonder, but here… here was history and ease and a familiar beauty. It accompanied an easy feeling… a feeling of home.  

"I'm really happy Harry agreed to be in the wedding," Hermione said a few minutes after they'd started on their walk. 

Ginny, startled out of her reverie, looked at Hermione in confusion.  "You thought he wouldn't?"

"Well, no, it's just… he works a lot, you know."

"Well…" Ginny trailed off.  "He wouldn’t miss the wedding because of work."

"Oh, no," Hermione assured Ginny, shaking her head.  "At least, I don't think so.  But well, he's been a bit… I dunno, strange lately."

Ginny bit her lip.  She didn’t want to get into Harry's problems. It wasn't her place, so she continued to walk in silence.

"Well," Hermione said, trailing off.  "I don’t want to bore you with it all—you know Harry—his problems are always surfacing."

Ginny lifted a brow. "I'm … sure he's fine."

"Hmm..." Hermione said, looking as though she wanted to continue, but Ginny hadn't really given her anything to go on.