Chapter Five – The Burrow
Harry awakened to darkness, with only the glowing embers of the fire to remind him of where he was. He had fallen asleep on the sofa in the common room after saying goodnight to Ginny. He had wanted a few minutes to himself before going upstairs to find Ron. He knew from the blackness that it couldn’t yet be morning. He stretched, and indulged himself in the memory of Ginny’s kiss. Kissing Ginny had not been like kissing Cho last year – instead of nervous, he felt at peace; instead of doubt, he felt assurance; instead of hesitancy, he felt boldness. And it had seemed like Ginny felt that way, too. Harry smiled at the recollection of her bright brown eyes, soft with tenderness, gazing into his. He had wanted to bring her to the sofa with him, to lie beside her all night, just so he could keep on looking into those eyes – but he knew that wouldn’t have been right. She was only fifteen, after all. She was a treasure, and he didn’t want to spoil her, or frighten her.
Rising stiffly from his resting-place, Harry went upstairs to his dormitory. He expected to find Ron snoring, but found him instead lying awake in the dim light from the stove. “Harry!” he exclaimed when he saw him. “Where’ve you been? I was about to come looking for you!”
Harry felt a small pang of guilt when he realized that after all that had transpired in the past several hours, that of course his best friend would be worried about him. And another pang added to that when he realized that he had no idea how Ron would take it when he found out he’d been snogging his sister. He decided that news could wait.
“Sorry, Ron. I fell asleep on the couch. Didn’t mean to worry you.” Harry thought of something else. “How was your …er…walk last night with Hermione? You two looked like you had a lot to talk about.”
Ron heaved a sigh. “Yeah, we had a lovely talk. About her parents, about Hagrid, about my parents, about you… about everything except what I wanted to talk about,” he finished in frustration. “I wanted to tell her how I feel, y’know? But if she doesn’t feel that same way….”
“Then you’ve ruined your friendship,” Harry finished for him.
Ron lowered his voice to a whisper, even though they were the only two in the dormitory. “I thought about kissing her, Harry. I even tried to get her under the mistletoe. But every time I got her close, she went skipping off in another direction. Am I really that repulsive to her?”
Harry shook his head. “I think she’s teasing you, Ron. Y’know, trying to get back at you for being so slow to notice her. Maybe she wants to make you suffer a bit.”
Ron’s eyes widened. “You think so? Blimey, Harry, I bet you’re right! So… what do you think I should do?”
“I think you’ll have to figure that out for yourself, mate. But I don’t think I’d wait much longer.”
A thoughtful look crossed Ron’s face. “Yeah,” he muttered slowly. Then he started to giggle. He was still giggling as Harry pulled on his pajamas and pulled the curtains on his four-poster closed. Ron’s laughter was the last thing Harry heard as he drifted off to sleep in the early gray light of Christmas morning.
It seemed as though he had just fallen asleep when something cold and wet on his eyelashes woke Harry. “Hey!” he heard Ron sputter. “What’s this?” Harry sat up and found a light snow falling inside the dormitory. The silvery peal of girlish laughter told him they had company. It was a decidedly sweeter sound than the one Ron had left in his dreams.
Harry yanked back the curtains and pulled on his glasses to find Ginny and Hermione standing there with Cheshire cat grins. Hermione was holding a stack of toast. “Happy Christmas!” she said. “We thought you two were taking much too long to get up. What do think of Ginny’s enchanted snow?”
“I think it’s way too cold and wet to be magic snow,” grumbled Ron, who obviously was not yet fully awake.
“Well, that’s part of the enchantment, isn’t it,” Ginny answered airily. Harry thought she looked quite beautiful with the frosty snow in her glistening red hair. “C’mon, get up you two – you have presents to open!”
Harry looked excitedly to the end of his bed and grinned. A pile of gifts did indeed await him. He grabbed his dressing gown from the end of the bed and pulled it on. Hermione had seen him in his pajamas before, but he suddenly felt shy about Ginny seeing him. He jumped out of bed and ran to his trunk, where he had put the gifts for his friends. He hesitated at giving Ginny her gift now; he felt he would rather have her open it without Ron and Hermione around.
Ron seemed to be waking up. He pulled his covers up around his neck and hissed, “Hermione – we’re not dressed!” The girls seemed to think this remark highly amusing, and laughed themselves breathless as Ron struggled into his robe, which he managed to put on, inside out. Harry tossed Ron his gift, and handed Hermione hers.
As he crossed the room to give Ginny her carefully wrapped package, he said in a quiet voice, “open this later, okay?” She smiled and slipped it into her pocket.
“I have something for you later, too,” she whispered. Harry’s heart skipped a beat, and for a moment he thought he had swallowed Ginny’s dancing butterfly.
After gifts had been opened – Ron gave Harry a large assortment of Honeydukes' sweets, and Hermione had finally given him Hogwarts: A History in the hopes that he might at last read it – the boys shooed the girls out of their room so they could get properly dressed. Harry had just pulled on his latest Weasley sweater (all shades of green with a large, violet “H” on the front), when he heard a tap-tap-tap at the window. It was Hedwig, looking very cold. Harry quickly let her in and brought her over by the stove to get warm. He untied a small parcel from her leg.
“What’s that?” asked Ron, resplendent in his own Weasley sweater of maroon.
“I think it’s from the Dursleys,” Harry answered with some surprise. They had never used owl post before, nor sent him something large enough that it required a box to hold it. He tossed it on his bed. “I’ll open it later. Probably a gift some dog left in their garden. Hurry up, can’t you, I’m starving!”
After a quick breakfast in the Great Hall, Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny joined Professor Lupin and the headmaster in the entrance hall for the greatly anticipated journey to the Burrow. Lupin was looking particularly fine this morning in a brand new cloak, steel gray. Dumbledore had on robes of bright red for the occasion. He held out a broken candlestand, and said, “Portus.” The candlestand shone blue and trembled. As Harry reached to lay a finger on it, he surreptitiously took hold of Ginny’s hand. She pressed his fingers in response, and Harry felt the familiar jerk at his navel. The next thing he knew, he was rolling over in the grass outside Ron’s front door, with Ginny laughing beside him.
While Christmas morning had dawned gray and cold at Hogwarts, here at the Burrow the sun was shinning. The Weasley home had been decorated for the holiday with garlands and fairy lights hanging about, and golden ivy snaking up the walls and across the ceiling. But the loveliest thing was the smells coming from Mrs. Weasley’s kitchen. Harry caught the aroma of roasting lamb, and thought he smelled a Yorkshire pudding as well. Ron was already on his feet and heading towards the door, when he remembered Hermione. She was sitting on the lawn next to Ginny, pulling dried grass out of her hair. Ron walked over to her and held out his hand.
“Need a hand up?” he inquired politely. Hermione gave him a broad smile and put her hand in his, and Ron pulled her to her feet.
“Thank you, Ronald,” she said, just as politely. Harry and Ginny exchanged glances as they helped each other up. Ginny was trying hard not to laugh. Ron and Hermione seemed frozen, hand in hand.
“Coming in, Ron?” Ginny asked casually, as the two continued to stare at one another.
“Uh… Yeah… yeah, sure, Ginny. Coming.” Ron released Hermione’s fingers, and followed the girls into the house. Harry hung back for a moment. He was remembering his last Christmas, at Grimmauld place with Sirius, and how happy his godfather had been when he discovered that they would all be staying with him for Christmas. Last year he had been so afraid of hurting his friends. He had felt so alone, so angry and confused. Sirius had understood. And so had Ginny. He was looking forward to spending Christmas day with her here, in this familiar place. But he so missed Sirius. If only there was some way I could talk to him again, thought Harry. Just for a few minutes…His thoughts were interrupted by Ron.
“Oy, Harry! Get in here! Mum wants to see you,” Ron called out the open window.
“I’m coming,” Harry yelled back. He smiled as he caught sight of a mane of red hair waiting for him in the doorway.
Inside, a harried-looking but smiling Mrs. Weasley warmly greeted Harry. “Harry, dear! There you are,” she said, brushing her hair out of her eyes with a floured hand. “We’re so glad you could all be here today. Imagine, Christmas at home with all the family, even during these times. Makes me think everything will be put to rights in the end.” She gave him a quick hug. “Everyone else is in the dining room. Go have a nice visit, and later you can make yourself useful. Go on, I’ll call you if I need you. Ginny,” she called to her daughter, “come give me a hand with these potatoes, would you dear?” Ginny rolled her eyes at Harry, and he flashed her a grin.
“See you later,” he said. From the direction of the dining room he could hear laughter, and the deep voices of the Weasley sons. They were snickering as he entered.
“Charlie, I told you not to eat anything those two give you” said Bill, trying to stifle his laughter. Charlie sat at the table sprouting feathers and a bright yellow countenance. He had turned into an enormous yellow bird. Fred and George were rolling on the floor, nearly unable to breathe. Harry knew the twins must have tricked Charlie into trying a canary cream, and joined in the laughter. Charlie molted a few moments later, and turned to give Fred and George a tongue-lashing, but all that came from his mouth were the delicate, warbling notes of a songbird.
“Added that just this year, that’s a new feature,” squeaked George, his eyes streaming. Fred pounded the floor with his fist, unable to speak. Seconds later he was racing out into the garden behind George, Charlie streaking after them both with murder in his eye.
Bill recovered first. “Harry! Glad you’re here! Mum’s been cooking like a mad woman ever since she found out you lot could come to the Burrow. Never seen anything like it.” Harry returned Bill’s hearty handshake; he was glad to see him here, as he hadn’t been able to speak to him or Charlie much at the Three Broomsticks yesterday. Bill still had his earring, and still wore his hair in a ponytail. But Harry noticed he had a few new scars on his arms and face, and wondered if they were from the course of his work with the Goblins at Gringotts, or from his work with the Order.
Mr. Weasley came around the table and gave Harry a fatherly hug. “Happy Christmas, Harry! We’ve got some lovely Muggle Christmas traditions this year, come have a look.” He led Harry through the house, pointing out displays of “ekeltric” strings of lights, a train running round a tarnished track, and a stack of artificial fire-starter logs laid on the fireplace hearth. “Isn’t it amazing, Harry? I understand Muggles light one of the things with a matchell and it burns just like a fire!” Harry agreed that it was truly amazing. After a few more turns round the house (“Look, Harry – a John-in-the Box! Wind it up and a little man pops out!”), Mr. Weasley steered Harry into a deserted corner of the living room.
“Harry,” he began in a low voice, “how are you? Dumbledore says your scar hasn’t been hurting at all this year, is that right?”
“Yeah, it’s been fine,” Harry told him. “I guess Volde – sorry, You-Know-Who, has been lying low.”
Mr. Weasley frowned. “Hmm. I wish that were true, Harry. There’s been an awful lot of talk at the Ministry. Lots of pranks, lots of mischief – folks seeing what they can get away with. A lot of young people, too, people your age and even younger.”
“Did you hear about Draco Malfoy?” Harry asked. “He was dressed like a Death Eater in Hogsmeade yesterday. He was….”
Mr. Weasley cut him off. “Yes, I heard about it. The Malfoys certainly wouldn’t need any outside encouragement to run errands for the Dark Lord, would they?”
“So… you think he’s recruiting kids now to join the Death Eaters? That’s…that’s….”
“Quite appalling,” finished Albus Dumbledore, who had joined them, unnoticed. “And unfortunately, quite likely. Voldemort has no scruples about destroying children, as you well know, Harry. And what better way to get to the parents than through their precious children? That is why we have long been cautioning secrecy at Hogwarts in all we are doing against the Dark Lord. We cannot know whether some of your fellow students may put our plans at risk.”
“I thought it was because some of them might be under the Imperious curse,” said Harry slowly. “I knew the Slytherins would mostly be on his side, but I didn’t think the others …of their own free will…” Harry trailed off.
“He can be very persuasive, Harry. And he make lots of promises to his followers,” said Mr. Weasley, looking grim. “Has Professor Snape had much success in his endeavors lately, Headmaster?”
Dumbledore shook his head. “I’m afraid not, Arthur. We must be very careful with Severus just now. I’m concerned that he may be in danger.”
Harry had no love for Snape, but he didn’t want to see him killed on behalf of the Order. “Shouldn’t he be pulled out, Sir? Can we risk leaving him in Voldemort’s camp?”
“For now, we must, Harry. Professor Snape is no fool; he knows the risks involved. For now, he will stay where he is. And now,” he abruptly changed his tone, “we are here for a celebration! Let us not linger over this talk. Arthur, show me how these fire-stirrers work….”
Harry wandered thoughtfully back towards the kitchen, wondering if he should tell the others what he had just heard. He decided that Dumbledore was right – it was Christmas day, after all. He found Ron and Hermione playing cards at the kitchen table, and Ginny, in one of her mother’s aprons, supervising a pan of boiling potatoes on the stove. Her face was red from the heat, and her usually straight hair had curled slightly round her face. Harry thought she looked quite fetching. “Need any help?” he asked her.
“Nope,” she replied with a smile. “But I think Ron does.”
Hermione was patiently trying to teach Ron a Muggle card game, and he was hopelessly lost. “No, Ron, the black eight goes here, on the red seven. Then the red nine can go on top.”
Mrs. Weasley came into kitchen, as red-faced as her daughter. “Thank you, Ginny, those potatoes should be fine, now. Goodness, it’s hot in this kitchen! Why don’t you four go on into the Garden and cool off a little? It’s lovely out in the sunshine, not a cloud in the sky. Go on, go on, out with you!”
They didn’t need telling twice. Ron seemed as glad to escape his card game as Ginny was to escape her apron. They hurried out the door and joined Charlie, Bill, the twins, and Professor Lupin, all outside enjoying the mild weather. Charlie was thumping Bill on the back, and Bill was grinning from ear to ear. “Congratulations, Bill; that’s lovely news,” Harry heard Remus say.
“What’s lovely news?” asked Ron as he, Harry, Hermione and Ginny joined the smiling group around Bill. George looked at Ron with his face shining. “Bill’s getting married, little brother! The first of the Weasley men to go under. I must say, Bill, never thought it’d be you.”
“That’s right,” Fred added. “We thought for sure it’d be Percy. He seems more the settling down type doesn’t he? Still, since he’s off being a great giant prat for the Ministry, we’ll just have to make do with you!”
Charlie broke in. “Mother doesn’t know yet, so no one say anything. She’ll have kittens if Bill doesn’t tell her himself.”
“So, where’s Fleur? It is Fleur, I presume,” asked Ginny, as she stepped up to give Bill a hug.
“She’s at her parents house, telling them the news. She’ll be here a little later. Well, guess I’d better go in and tell Mum. Cover your ears!”
Bill disengaged himself from his band of well wishers and went inside. Professor Lupin turned to Harry. “Turning out to be quite an eventful day, isn’t it?” he said with a smile. Harry grinned.
“Yeah,” he answered, “but I think Ron’s in shock.” Ron did indeed look to be quite stunned at Bill’s news. He was staring after his older brother with his mouth hanging open. “You all right, Ron?” Harry said to him.
“Blimey,” Ron whispered. “Fancy Bill and Fleur getting married. Remember when she was at Hogwarts, Harry? How all the boys made idiots of themselves over her?” (Ron seemed to have conveniently forgotten that he was one of the aforementioned idiots.) “You don’t think she …bewitched him or something, do you?”
Professor Lupin laughed. “Bill and Fleur have been working together for some time now, Ron, and have gotten to know each other well. I think he’s really in love with her. She really is a lovely young woman. I’m sure you’ll enjoy getting to know her too.”
At this Ron turned beet red. Fortunately, Hermione was deep in conversation with Ginny about the upcoming wedding, and didn’t notice. Harry was sure Ron wouldn’t have wanted to explain to her why the thought of spending time with Fleur was an embarrassment to him. Apparently he hadn’t completely forgotten some of the boastful things he said to her in their third year to try and impress her, and they hadn’t gone unnoticed by Hermione, either.
A scream from the house interrupted their thoughts. Mrs. Weasley had obviously been told that her son was going to be married, and reacted in expected fashion. Everyone milling about in the yard laughed. “C’mon,” Ginny said. “Let’s get out of here before Mum wants me to start peeling potatoes for Bill’s wedding feast!” She ran through the Garden towards the orchard, with the others following close behind.
“Wait up,” laughed Harry. He knew Ginny was quick on a broom, but had never realized how fast she was on her feet. He caught her just before she reached the paddock and grabbed her round the waist, lifting her off her feet. He whirled her around as she laughed in his arms, then they fell over backwards. Ron and Hermione, racing along right behind them, toppled into the pair of them and came crashing to the ground as well. None of them was hurt, and none of them could stop laughing. Hermione gave Harry a sly look, and smiled her approval. Ron, as usual, was clueless. Harry rolled out from under the pile of bodies and picked Ginny up, them gave a hand up to Hermione and Ron. Ron seemed to be lost in a fit of giggles.
“Go on, you two,” sighed Hermione. “I’ll stay with this maniac.” Harry gave Hermione a grateful smile and grabbed Ginny’s hand. She blushed slightly, but gave Hermione a small wave as they walked off towards the paddock. They heard Ron giggling even after they were inside the gate.
As soon as they were out of sight of the others, Harry pulled Ginny into his arms and stole a kiss. He then did what he had wanted to do all this Christmas day. He reached carefully into Ginny's pocket and pulled out the gift he had given her that morning. "Open it," he said. He kissed her hand as he placed the box in it.
Ginny’s eyes were bright. “Thank you, Harry,” she said. They sat down on the grass. She opened the little box gingerly. Her mouth dropped open when she saw the sparkling violet butterfly, fluttering in its resting-place. “Oh, Harry,” she breathed, “it’s beautiful!” She gently fingered the delicate piece.
Harry took it from her and placed it carefully in her hair. He had never touched Ginny’s hair before, and was amazed at how silky it felt under his fingers. The butterfly danced in the scarlet cloud that was Ginny’s hair. How had he known her all this time and never seen how lovely she was? Her smile made his heart dance like the butterfly in her hair.
Shyly, Ginny pulled a package out from under her jacket. It was far bulkier than the parcel Harry had given her. She offered it to him, coloring pink at the ears. Harry grinned; he couldn’t help but be reminded of Ron. He ripped the paper off and found a beautifully knitted jumper – black, with a golden snitch embroidered on the front that looked like its wings were really moving. “Ginny!” Harry exclaimed. “This is excellent! Did you make it?”
“Yes,” she answered. “Mum taught me how last summer. Do you really like it?”
“I love it!” Harry answered. And he pulled off his green Weasley sweater right then and there and pulled the one Ginny had made over his head. She laughed delightedly and clapped her hands. “Thank you, Ginny. This the nicest gift I’ve ever had.” He pulled her gently into his lap and kissed her again. Her eyes were shining. He stroked her hair, and she gently placed her fingertips at his temple and touched his face. Harry closed his eyes. He had never felt anything like it. She traced his scar softly, then pulled his head down, and kissed the mark delicately. Harry found himself very much moved by this, and his eyes began to sting. He buried his face in her hair, and stayed that way a long time.
Some time later, they heard Hermione calling them. It was time for dinner. Hand in hand, they joined her and went to where she had left Ron. (“He fell asleep,” she said disgustedly.) They woke him and the four of them hurried back across the Garden through the lengthening shadows to join their family and friends around the table.
“That was, without a doubt,” said a well-contented Albus Dumbledore, “the best meal I have ever had in my lifetime, Molly. And that’s saying something,” he winked at her.
Remus Lupin, looking as though he could barely move, sighed and agreed. “You’ve really outdone yourself, Molly,” he said.
Fleur Delacour had arrived, and was busily questioning Mrs. Weasley on the preparation of all Bill’s favorite dishes, which she was only too happy to share. Charlie and Bill were playing Wizard chess, and Fred and George were fiddling about with their fireworks over by the window – Harry was keeping a sharp eye on them, convinced that there would be a commotion before long. Ginny brought out a tin of fudge she had made and offered some to Harry, who accepted it gladly. Even after a full meal, he would never disappoint Ginny by refusing. And it was quite excellent.
Mr. Weasley had brought out a photo album of previous Christmases at the Burrow, and Ron and Hermione were sitting close together, looking through the pictures. Harry stepped behind their chair for a look as well. Moving photographs of all the Weasley offspring, at various ages, gamboled through the pictures, laughing and smiling up at him. Harry laughed when he saw six-year-old Ron give a great toothless grin, and at ten-year-old Ginny on a broom, skimming over the grass in her nightdress, her father jogging delightedly behind her. He thought sadly that there were no such pictures of him. He wondered what his first Christmas had been like, with his parents.
Professor Lupin moved up beside him. “You know, Harry, Sirius and I were at your parents house frequently for Christmas.”
Harry’s head snapped round to stare at Lupin. How could he always know what he was thinking? Could he be a Legilimens? Harry would have to remember to ask him.
Lupin continued. “Yes, we were there for your first Christmas as well. You were only five months old, as I recall. What a shock of black hair you had!” Ron and Hermione had turned in their chair to listen, and Ginny sat down on the arm of it. “I remember Sirius had brought you a Christmas gift, and he was trying to get you to do magic to retrieve it from him. Lilly kept telling him you were too young, that babies don’t do magic, but he was insistent. You were lying on a blanket on the floor, watching him wave this pretty package in front of you. Every time you tried to grab it, he would pull it away. You finally screwed up your face and yelled, and that box went flying out of Sirius’ hand, raced around the room three times, and bashed him on the head before it finally came floating gently down into your little arms. Sirius was beside himself with glee – he scooped you up and danced around the room with you, shouting that you were a real wizard. Lily was running after him with a rag, trying to clean up the mess he was making; you had managed to give him a bloody nose. James and I were laughing so hard we were crying.” Professor Lupin was wiping his eyes even now at the memory, and the rest of them were laughing as well at the thought of Sirius, covered with blood, dancing around with baby Harry.
Remus told more stories of Harry and his parents, Harry listening eagerly. They were eventually interrupted by Fred and George’s fireworks going off in the corner, shooting through the house like stars. Mrs. Weasley shrieked and ran from the room, but the rest of them enjoyed the display – much more subdued than their exhibition at Hogwarts last year, but enjoyable nonetheless.
Then Professor Dumbledore rose from his chair, thanked Molly once again for the excellent feast, shook Arthur Weasley’s hand, and pulled the broken candlestand once again from his robes. After affectionate good-byes all around, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Professor Lupin all placed a finger on the portkey, and the Burrow faded away.
Back in the entrance hall, the travelers all bid one another goodnight and started for their rooms. “Harry,” Dumbledore called him back. “Could I see you for a moment, please?”
Harry looked at the others. “See you in the common room,” he said, and walked back over to the headmaster. “Yes, Sir?”
“Harry, I wondered if you are feeling well? You seem a little pale.” Harry’s guardian wore a concerned look.
“I’m fine, Professor,” Harry answered him. “I think I probably ate too much. I’ve got a bit of a stomach-ache. And I’m awfully tired,” Harry said as he stifled a yawn.
The headmaster smiled. “Very well, then. I’ll let you go on to your dormitory. Good night, Harry.”
“Good night. Oh, and Sir? Thank you for arranging Christmas at the Burrow for us. It was really excellent.” Harry knew that preparations for this day had been no small undertaking, and it meant a lot to him that his guardian went to all that trouble on his behalf.
“You are very welcome, Harry. I’m glad you enjoyed it,” he said with a fatherly smile. “Now, off to bed with you.”
Harry found he had to drag himself up the last flight of stairs. It wasn’t that late, but he was really very tired. His limbs felt heavy. He climbed wearily through the portrait hole, but perked up when he saw Ron, Hermione, and Ginny waiting for him in their favorite chairs by the fire. Tired though he was, he noticed that Hermione was wearing a bright blue butterfly in her hair.
“Harry, look who’s here,” said Hermione. He hadn’t noticed that there was one more person seated by the fire.
“Neville!” Harry exclaimed. “What are you doing back? I thought you were visiting your Gran?”
Neville appeared apprehensive. “Just thought I’d come back early. A little bit of Gran goes a long way.” Everyone laughed. They’d all met Neville’s grandmother, and agreed she was a forbidding woman. Harry wanted to stay up and talk with his friends, and especially with Ginny, but his stomach-ache was starting to bother him, and he was so tired, he wished them all a happy Christmas and started upstairs.
“Neville, you look tired too,” Ginny said. “Why don’t you go upstairs with Harry. I’m going up now, too. Good night Hermione;” she gave Ron a meaningful look. “Good night, Ron.” And she followed the boys towards the stairs. Harry stopped her at the foot of the girls’ staircase.
“Thanks for making this a wonderful Christmas, Ginny. I’ll see you in the morning.” He kissed her hand, then her cheek. And then her lips.
“Harry, you’re so cold,” she exclaimed. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah, just tired. Ate too much of your Mum’s cooking. The potatoes were great, by the way.”
She laughed. “Well, get some rest. Maybe we can go out to the Quidditch pitch tomorrow if the weather clears up.”
Harry smiled. “That sounds great. Sleep well, Ginny.” He climbed slowly up the stairs, sure, at that moment, that he was the luckiest boy in the world. At the top he glanced back down. He wasn’t surprised to see Ron and Hermione under the mistletoe.