17. There’s a Land that I Heard Of

The next morning dawned completely differently to the soggy night they had finally fallen asleep to. Eventually at three in the morning, Harry had succumbed to sleep as he listened to the rain slow its patter on the window and was not too happy initially when woken only a few hours later by a rather enthusiastic Ginny Weasley who had hurtled through the door that joined their rooms and thrown herself on top of him. When he realised it was Ginny and that she’d managed to do this action without apparently waking either of her snoring brothers Harry was a little more receptive to the idea and did not hesitate to pull his arms out from under the covers and wrap them around his lovely girlfriend. She bent down to kiss him soundly on the lips and Harry fought the urge he had to flip her over and pin her to the bed so he lay there, trailing his hands up and down her back leisurely as her lips toyed with his. He was startled when he heard Ron grunt and pulled away from her suddenly.

“Don’t wake George up,” he mumbled as he stumbled out of bed and headed for the door Ginny had just come through. Harry craned his neck to watch fuzzily as Ron approached Hermione’s bed and pulling back the covers, climbed in. He slammed his eyes shut and shuddered. He could feel Ginny giggling.

“I guess he got over his fear of her seeing him in nothing but his pyjama pants,” muttered Harry as Ginny shifted slightly so that she was lying next to Harry instead of straddling him.

“She spent some time on that little project,” revealed Ginny. “Then she told me all about their evening by the pond!” Harry chuckled before sobering a little.

“Do you think they’ve gone … well … further?” he asked as if fearful of the answer. Ginny shook her head.

“No, she would have told me. But he has been sneaking into her bed in the mornings as soon as I leave for the bathroom. I guess they like snuggling under the covers.” At that moment George moved in his own bed and Harry and Ginny froze.

“If you two can’t be quiet, can you get out and let a bloke sleep!” he said exasperatedly before pulling the covers over his head. Ginny stifled a giggle and she and Harry lay quietly on Harry’s bed. Ginny was fully dressed and on top of his covers but she was close enough for Harry to feel her sweet breath on his face and look into her brown eyes despite the fact his glasses were still on the bedside table. Ginny smiled as she raised a hand to trace his lips with her fingers.

“Good Morning,” she whispered. “I haven’t been able to sleep.”

“Not at all?” Harry asked softly as he kissed her fingertips. Ginny shook her head frantically and looked at him brightly. Harry wondered if perhaps she was now running on adrenaline and in desperate need of sleep. He watched as her eyes slid shut while he stroked her face and hair, tracing her facial features with one index finger.

His stomach began doing strange flip flops as he watched her. When he moved away slightly Ginny’s arm tightened around his torso and she threw her leg over his. He froze and laid there, his heart beating rapidly and his stomach flopping around uncomfortably as other parts of his anatomy woke up. Then George started to snore. Harry groaned. He was never going to get any sleep this way. As soon as Ginny’s breathing evened out he carefully slid himself out from under her and wrapped a blanket around her. She snuggled into the indent his head had made in the pillow and sighed contentedly in her sleep. Grabbing his glasses Harry slipped quietly into the adjoining room. Ron poked his head out from Hermione’s covers as the door clicked shut softly.

“What do you want, Potter?” he asked grumpily.

“Oh, that’s nice,” huffed Harry as he threw himself on what was obviously Ginny’s bed.

“Why aren’t you in the other room snogging my sister?” demanded Ron.

“Well I never thought I’d hear you say that!” laughed Harry. Hermione appeared then, glaring at him.

“Why are you interrupting us, Harry?” she asked pointedly.

“I’m not interrupting you!” retorted Harry. “You can keep doing whatever you like! I am going back to sleep.” He burrowed under Ginny’s bedclothes, placing his glasses on her bedside table. Suddenly a pillow came flying at his head. He sat up abruptly, aiming a detached glare in Ron’s general direction.

“What was that for?”

“Why are you in here, instead of in with Ginny?” asked Ron. Harry couldn’t decide if Ron was indignant or astounded.

“She’s asleep,” Harry muttered.

“So?” asked Ron as he apparently did something that made Hermione giggle. “I love snuggling up to Hermione, even when she’s asleep. It’s nice.” Harry could hear the smile in Ron’s voice.

“That’s great Ron, but do you really want me doing to Ginny what you are obviously doing to Hermione?”

“Er, well, probably not,” stammered Ron. “But you’re a lot nobler than me. You wouldn’t.” Harry grunted as he turned his back to them.

“Did you two have a fight, Harry?” asked Hermione suddenly. Harry sighed loudly and turned over.

“No,” he said exasperatedly, “but I couldn’t sleep next to her. I was a bit too … happy about that. I’m tired and there’s no way either of us could have slept if I stayed in the same room as her. Besides, George started snoring. Now stop reminding me what I’m missing out on and let me go to sleep.” He heard Ron and Hermione settle back into her bed and they obviously all drifted off to sleep because the next thing he knew he was being roughly awoken by someone shaking his shoulder. He rolled over to see Bill grinning at him widely.

“Ginny’s a bit miffed with you,” he chuckled. “We’re going down to breakfast before we meet Jonathon. Come on, get up!” Harry, having dressed for the day in Muggle clothing, went downstairs to the dining room. He paused as he got to the table the Weasleys were sitting at with Hermione. Whenever they sat to eat Ginny always made sure there was a seat next to her for him if she got to the table before him. This morning however she was sitting between George and Fleur and carefully, meticulously, spreading honey on a crumpet without raising her head. George looked at Harry apologetically and shrugged. Still watching Ginny, Harry sank into the chair opposite her and reached for a glass of juice.

“Morning,” he said quietly and everyone at the table murmured back except Ginny. Harry stared at her, his brows drawn together willing her to look at him. When she did not he surveyed the rest of the room.

The hotel’s dining room was full of guests although thankfully Ashley and her giggly friends were not among them. Mostly the dining room consisted of elderly witches sipping tea and the odd wizard reading The Weekend Oracle which had a headline that read ‘MUGGLES MISPLACE FOOTBALL STADIUM: WIZARD’S BUCKS PARTY TO BLAME’. Hermione was buried behind the same paper and he nudged her with his foot.

“Yes, Harry,” she replied without looking up, “they think you had a bucks party.” Harry groaned and helped himself to one of Ron’s crumpets.

“Hey! Go and get your own breakfast! Buffet’s that way!”

“But Ron,” said Harry cheekily, “you know I like to share things with you!” Ginny snorted at this comment. Ron gave her a sharp look as Harry just pushed back his chair and stalked off to the buffet. He felt irritated that Ginny wouldn’t look at him, or apparently talk to him and irritated that the Australian newspapers were acting like Rita Skeeter on Muggle speed. He gloomily collected a plate and surveyed the food on offer.

“You don’t know what you did, do you?” Bill asked from his left elbow moments later. Harry shook his head as he moodily dumped some scrambled eggs on his plate. “You left her to follow Ron and Hermione.” Harry viciously prodded some bacon with the end of some tongs and grunted.

“I only went into the next room so she could sleep,” he muttered as he surveyed the twelve varieties of jam for his toast. He blushed violently as he spoke. “If I’d stayed there I definitely would have woken her up considering I was having a hard time keeping my hands to myself. And when George started snoring, well …”

“She’ll get over it.”

“Will she? She never acts like this. Normally if I’m being a prat, which I might add I am not,” he said glaring at Bill, “she yells at me.” Bill began heaping his own plate with bacon and eggs. He seemed to be considering something.

“George and Ron told me you had a talk with dad,” he said eventually. Harry nodded with no idea what that had to do with it.

“Dad reckons I know Ginny really well, but I am completely at a loss here,” Harry admitted. “You’d think she’d appreciate that I was being considerate.” Bill nodded as he contemplated adding both crumpets and toast to his plate. Harry looked back at their table to find Ron in an earnest whispered argument with Ginny. He was gesturing with his hands, occasionally pointing a finger in her face. Bill, seeing the same thing, nudged Harry over to a nearby table away from the rest of the family.

“How long were you two going out before you broke up before?” Bill asked as he began eating. Harry toyed with his food.

“Only a couple of weeks, not long.” Bill nodded, this obviously meant something to his train of thought but its relevance was lost on Harry.

“Well, I’m not sure which it is right now, but maybe you can put her odd behavior down to one of two things,” said Bill. Harry looked up curiously. “Either she wanted you to … well it’s either the time in her cycle she wants to … or she’s moody because she’s … well the opposite. Knowing how much she’s like mum I’m afraid it’s the former.” Harry merely looked at Bill in confusion.

“I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about, Bill,” he said eventually. It was the first time Harry had seen the trademark Weasley blush on Bill. The man was normally so composed. Bill hurriedly stuffed his mouth with food. When he swallowed he muttered, “maybe Fleur should explain this.” Harry could only agree. If Bill was going to be so vague perhaps she should.

“Or Hermione,” Harry mumbled as he stabbed viciously at the bacon with his fork. Bill brightened.

“Of course! You’ve known Hermione for years, you’ve been best friends!” he said with what sounded suspiciously like relief. “No need to explain then, Hermione would have by now.” Harry finished the food on his plate and contemplated Bill thoughtfully.

“Well, good,” he said, although nothing really was. “I’ll be back in my room.” Harry pushed his seat back and hastily left the dining room, taking the stairs two at a time and managing to scuttle inside his room just before Ashley and her giggling entourage saw him as they exited their own room.

Harry was more confused than he had ever been in his life. He had no idea what was going on with Ginny, even less of an idea what Bill had been talking about and could not think of a single thing that Hermione had ever said to him that explained the mess he found himself in right now. He had done the right thing, acted appropriately and yet it seemed like he’d done the wrong thing. He hadn’t been moping on his bed long before there was a soft knock at the door.

“Come in,” he said morosely. Hermione pushed the door open and peered around it.

“Are you alright?”

“Oh yeah, I’m great Hermione,” said Harry sarcastically. “The global wizarding public thinks we’re getting married, Ginny isn’t talking to me for reasons I don’t even know, let alone understand and Bill is talking in some sort of code that I can’t possibly decipher. I’m brilliant.” Hermoine smiled sympathetically.

“Bill thinks it’s so simple,” Hermione shook her head. Harry swore she was shaking it pityingly. “He thinks it can be explained by hormones and natural cycles but it’s more than that.” Harry raised an eyebrow.

“Is anyone ever going to clue me in?” he asked exasperatedly. He recounted what Bill had said in the dining room, confessing he had no idea at all what Bill had been talking about. Hermione smiled as she began a long winded explanation of hormones and cycles and mood swings and why Bill thought that could account for Ginny’s reaction. Harry stared at her.

“So, Bill thinks Ginny might be miffed because I didn’t take advantage of her because right now she’s … well …” he trailed off. Hermione nodded briskly.

“Yes, fertile.” Harry grimaced. Hermione went on.

“Of course I don’t think it’s got anything to do with that at all.”

“You don’t?”

“No, I don’t,” she said smugly. “I think Bill was right with the first thing he said.” Harry thought back.

“I followed you and Ron?” he asked, puzzled. Hermione nodded enthusiastically.

“She’s wondering why you elected to go and sleep in the same room as me and Ron and not stay with her,” she said. “Maybe she is wondering if you don’t find her attractive. Why would you get out of a nice warm bed with her to go and be with us?” Harry stared at her.

“But you heard me! That’s why I left the room! It was too warm and too nice in bed with her!” Harry groaned, flopping back on his bed as he clutched at his hair. “Dad said I know Ginny better than I think I do but honestly I have no idea what she’s thinking, why she’s thinking it and right now it’s like I never even knew her at all.”

“Have you talked to her about your physical relationship?” asked Hermione quietly. Harry shook his head.

“There’s been so much going on and well, we’ve not really talked about it,” Harry shrugged. “What is there to say?”

“You should decide how far you are going to go right now, where you are going to draw the line, what you are comfortable with.” Hermione sank down on the bed next to Harry as he stared at the ceiling. “You have to talk about this, Harry. She doesn’t know where she stands.”

“Oh, so telling her I want to marry her someday isn’t telling her where she stands?” Hermione gasped at that. “She’s my whole world, Hermione. I don’t want to mess it up.” He turned to look at Hermione then, fighting an irrational urge to cry. He blinked furiously before looking back at the ceiling. He felt the bed move as Hermione rose and went to the door.

“I’m going to tell her to come and talk to you,” she said. “And when you’ve finished we’ll go out with Jonathon. Take your time, this is important.” A few moments later Hermione opened the door and shoved Ginny unceremoniously through it before shutting it behind her. Harry remained where he was, staring at the ceiling with no idea what to say.

“Hermione said I had to come and talk to you,” said Ginny stiffly. Harry looked up at her, she hadn’t moved from the doorway, her arms were crossed and she had a scowl on her face.

“Don’t look so thrilled,” he muttered sarcastically. The silence that fell between them was thick and oppressive. Harry had no idea what to say or if she would even listen to him in her current mood so he elected to say nothing at all. Eventually he climbed off his bed and went to sit on the window seat, staring out at the bustling street below. He pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them as he watched a small boy dart in and out of the crowd lining the streets, a witch, who was probably his mother, following him closely. He saw street vendors with little carts wandering the middle of the street, stopping to sell their wares and watched an elderly couple as they walked hand in hand, peering into shop windows.

Origin Alley was uncommonly like Diagon Alley. He couldn’t hear it but somehow Harry knew it was cacophony of sound, the hum of excited voices, the exchanging of money and the touting of wares. He saw a group of children with their noses pressed to the window of what was obviously a broomstick or Quidditch supply shop. The sign flapping above the door would flip up so he could see the broomstick on it occasionally. Opposite, he could make out a wandmaker who’d been trading since 1790 and a store labeled ‘Ledgers and Labels’ that was probably a book or stationery store judging by the display in the window. He couldn’t see any teenagers and surmised that they were in school. Maybe they were preparing for a day in the local village. Just like in Diagon Alley an immense white building rose up at one end of the street. He watched as people, miniaturised by distance, hurried up and down its steps. He idly wondered if the Australian branch of Gringotts was open on a Saturday and did not hear Ginny approach.

By the time his eyes had travelled to investigate a building that was obviously a post office, judging by the birds swooping in and out of it, he could sense her and as he squinted to try and make out what sort of bird Australian wizards used for their mail he could also see her out of the corner of his eye. He still had no idea what to say to her but looked up at her anyway and all his frustration melted away. For a single moment he saw the scared little girl he’d rescued in the Chamber and he felt, somehow, his twelve year old self reaching out to her. The feeling only lasted a moment and then he was himself again and his eighteen year old hands wiped the silent tears from her cheeks and pulled her into his lap. They sat silently on the window seat for several minutes, Ginny buried her face in his shirt and he stroked her hair trying to think of nothing, watching the people mill about on the street below.

Eventually Ginny raised her tearstained face to his and Harry didn’t fight the irresistible urge to drop a kiss on her nose. He summoned a box of tissues from his bedside table and handed it to her, watching as she wiped her tears away and blew her nose. He said nothing. He still had absolutely no idea what to say. He wanted to make this better, make it go away and get back the girl he knew and loved but he realised that this was a part of her too so he waited patiently for her to tell him what was on her mind.

“This is stupid,” she eventually muttered. “I cry too much.”

“We’ve been through a lot,” Harry offered.

“I never used to cry this much.”

“Maybe not, but you never used to be recovering from a war, did you?” Ginny looked at him then.

“But that was two months ago!” she exclaimed. “You’re safe, you’re here, we’re on holidays. What’s there to cry about? I don’t even understand myself, how can I expect you to understand.”

“Tell me about it,” said Harry sincerely. “Maybe we can figure it out together.” Ginny sat in contemplative silence for the longest time. Harry watched her. He watched the curve of her eyelashes as they blinked open and closed. He watched how her chest rose and fell as she breathed. He watched as her tongue darted out to wet her lips and how her teeth chewed on her lips as she thought.

“I felt like you chose them over me,” she eventually whispered. “Why did you go and sleep in there? Why didn’t you stay with me?”

“I didn’t want to wake you up,” replied Harry softly. “You were so tired and when you fell asleep you looked so peaceful. If I stayed there too long I would have woken you up. I couldn’t sleep with my heart hammering in my chest … and … well … and then George started snoring.” Harry grimaced as he finished.

“So you didn’t go because you didn’t want to be with me?”

“No,” Harry whispered, “I went because I wanted to be with you too much. My body does strange things around you Ginny Weasley.” Ginny blushed.

“When I woke up alone I thought you’d gone down to breakfast or were in the shower,” mused Ginny. She looked at him. “I went back into my room and the three of you were curled up in there and I just felt so lonely. Ron was all snuggled up with Hermione and I didn’t know why you didn’t want to snuggle up with me. Didn’t you want me?” Harry stroked her hair tenderly as he tucked a stray hair behind her ear.

“I love snuggling up with you. I love you. I do want you. But I’m still getting used to these feelings and me losing control on a lumpy mattress in some drab hotel room while your brother snores three feet away and you are sleep deprived is not something either of us need to experience,” admitted Harry softly. “At the right time, at the right place I am going to make you my wife and then we can go to some really fabulous hotel and I’ll lose control, I promise.” He smiled and Ginny giggled.

“Do you really want to wait until you are married, for … you know?” asked Ginny shyly. Harry gazed at her.

“We are married,” he said simply. “I want you, only you. I want it to be special. I don’t think we’re ready for sex yet. We’ve only really been together a couple of months and we’re still figuring each other out or we wouldn’t have had this silly fight. I don’t want to rush into anything.”

“Mum said to me, that once you start it’s hard to stop,” Ginny blushed. “I think she was telling me if I start … now it’ll be really hard at school where there are not many … opportunities for that sort of activity. I didn’t know you have that sort of reaction. I didn’t know you feel that … strongly. I wasn’t expecting … well, that this morning though. I just wanted to be near you and I felt sort of … abandoned when you left.”

“You can say sex, Ginny,” Harry grinned at her. “Although if you can’t look at me and say it then we definitely shouldn’t be doing it.” He laughed and Ginny slapped him on the arm. He pulled her to him and kissed her lightly before resting his cheek on her hair and gazing out of the window.

“Dad reckons if you aren’t ready to get married you aren’t ready to … well, you know,” he murmured. Ginny laughed softly.

“If you can’t say sex, Harry …” she trailed off, shifting so she too could see out of the window and watch the people in the street below.

“I love you,” said Harry eventually. “If I do something that bothers you, tell me. Don’t make me guess. Talk to me, okay?” He looked into her eyes, pleading with her to understand. He saw the girl he knew, the one who understood him so perfectly, looking back at him and he realised that he understood her just a little bit more now. She leaned forward and gave him a soft kiss.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t handle it very well, did I?” Harry shrugged.

“We can’t all be perfect,” he said with a grin. “D’you reckon Jonathon is here yet? Let’s go down and see!” He jumped up, picking Ginny up as he did so and she squealed. Harry twirled with her in his arms, her hair flying and she laughed delightfully. Impulsively he leant down to press a kiss to her lips and they stopped twirling. He felt Ginny’s hands sneak into his hair and he pressed his own to her back, losing himself in her scent and the feel of her hands on his scalp.

A soft knock on the door broke them apart but Harry kept his arms around her waist as Bill poked his head around the door hesitantly. He smiled.

“You guys ready to go? Jonathon’s here and if we don’t give him and George something to occupy their time we could be in trouble,” he grinned. “They’ve already set fire to four paintings, two rubbish bins and a pot plant.”

“I’ll just grab a coat,” said Ginny and she kissed Harry on the cheek and skipped off to her own room to grab the article of clothing. Harry picked up his own discarded coat from the bag at the foot of his bed.

“Alright, Harry?” asked Bill with a smile. Harry nodded. He was alright.

“Strewth, you two took ya time!” was Jonathon’s greeting as Harry and Ginny followed Bill down the stairs, hand in hand. Harry did not miss the pleased look that crossed Ron’s face as he caught sight of Harry and Ginny’s linked hands. Smiling secretly to himself Harry leaned over and pressed a kiss to Ginny’s hair, watching Ron out of the corner of his eye as he did so. Ron smiled softly, unaware that Harry was watching him. Molly was right, Ron did have a look about him when he watched Harry with Ginny. Pulling Ginny into his arms Harry stood in the hotel foyer barely listening to Jonathon outline where they were going. It didn’t matter where he was going, it only mattered who he was with.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jonathon dragged them to all the regular tourist spots that Muggles liked to frequent. Eager to capture their holiday, Hermione had them pose in front of more than one iconic Sydney landmark while she or Jonathon snapped picture after picture with her camera. Harry dutifully posed with the rest of them but in reality paid very little attention to where they were and what they were doing for most of the day. He spent his time watching Ginny, making every attempt not to let go of her at any time. After talking to her that morning he simply felt closer to her. He realised that he’d spent the last two months expecting Ginny to listen to him as he told her meagre details about what he’d been up to last year and was, in comparison, verbose about his feelings since fighting Voldemort. Rarely had he listened to her talk about how she was feeling. It wasn’t that he didn’t care or that he stopped her talking but only now did he fully appreciate that she wasn’t volunteering information and unlike her, he had not asked.

No wonder she had acted so uncharacteristically this morning. Perhaps if he’d had an idea how she felt he would have acted differently and the whole mess could have been avoided. As he watched her pose for photographs with Hermione and Fleur, dressed as Chinese princesses in the Chinese Garden of Friendship, Harry wondered what Ginny felt. He knew she loved him, she told him constantly, showed him constantly, but what was she feeling? Was she as in love with him as he was with her? Had he asked her what she wanted or just told her what he planned to do? She hadn’t been complaining but as the weak sunlight filtered into the pavilion they were in and lit up Ginny’s face as she laughed, Harry realised that all the plans he’d dreamed were meaningless unless she made them with him. Harry told her she was beautiful when she twirled in front of him in an oriental green silk dress and decided some time alone was in order, resolving to spend some with her soon.

A short time later Harry watched, leaning against a pillar, as Bill and Ginny sat, talking, in a pavilion that looked out over the water. Fleur was reading out information from her guide book that only Hermione was listening to as Jonathon and George subtly bewitched twigs to race between plant life on the calm water. Ron approached him, sitting down on the low fence that surrounded the pavilion, his long legs sprawling into the middle of the pavillion.

“So, you sorted things out with Ginny this morning,” he said. Harry nodded, feeling that was obvious given that they had probably been more nauseatingly affectionate than Ron and Hermione since leaving the hotel. Harry and Ron both seemed to have found that being on a holiday seemed to increase how carefree they felt and correspondingly the amount they showed affection. Harry had been amused to see Ron playing with Hermione’s hair and kissing her neck as they walked along the street. In contrast to sixth year, or perhaps because of it, Ron was usually a lot more reserved with his affections in public. Harry found himself pulling Ginny close as they walked along, tucking his hand into her back pocket and more than once he’d caused a delay because he’d pulled Ginny into a kiss in the middle of a footpath.

“What did you say to her?” Harry asked Ron eventually.

“Told her off,” Ron said succinctly. “Honestly, what a stupid thing to go mental over. You were being a gentleman. That book really came in handy, hey?” He nudged Harry with one elbow and winked. Harry didn’t have the heart to tell him he’d barely made a dent in reading the book he’d given him for his birthday last year and that he had imagined it said quite different things than merely how to be a gentleman given Ron’s own behavior with Hermione. Instead he sighed.

“If only a book could tell me everything.”

“Like what?” demanded Ron. “She’s totally yours. Always has been. You might have the odd fight but what do you need a book to tell you? You’re more noble and gallant than Galahad. She’s going nowhere mate.” Harry looked at him seriously then.

“Is that enough?”

“What?”

“Is that enough?” insisted Harry. “It’s a bit … complacent to assume anything isn’t it? You don’t just ‘have’ someone. Don’t you have to win their heart or something.” He shrugged. Ron just looked at him blankly.

“But you won her heart years ago!”

“She had a crush on me, Ron!” Harry’s voice rose and he saw Ginny turn to look at him. He smiled weakly and she beamed back. Clearly she hadn’t heard what he said. He lowered his voice and whispered furiously, “when did I win her heart, really? Have I?” Ron smiled at him.

“You’ve won her heart. She’s in love with you. She’d marry you tomorrow if you asked her,” said Ron. “Likely follow you to the ends of the earth as well. Come to think of it, she just did.” Ron chuckled as he looked up into the clear blue sky, the white clouds scudding across it like tiny missiles.

“Would she?” asked Harry skeptically. “Marry me, I mean.” Ron sobered.

“D’you want to get married?”

“Not right now,” Harry said softly, turning to gaze into the water. “I feel like I’ve got a million things to catch up on. We’re both at school anyway!” Harry watched the lily pads that were floating on the water in front of the pavilion. The garden was an oasis in the middle of the bustling Muggle city. There was a busy road just outside one wall and yet, when they’d walked close to that wall Harry had heard the cars only faintly. It was like a world apart where only serenity existed. The lily pads below did not have many flowers. Harry thought that was odd because Fleur had read out that they were in the Water Pavilion of Lotus Fragrance, so where were the lotus flowers? He surmised that the flowers simply weren’t in season or they’d not appeared yet. He listened absently as Fleur continued her discourse from the guidebook, not really taking in what she was saying but letting her soft peaceful voice wash over him as it mingled with the ebb and flow of the garden which seemed to have a palpable peace. Despite his inner turmoil he reveled in the tranquility of the garden it was soothing and it seemed to smooth over his ruffled feelings.

“… so Harry should definitely get one of those!”

“Don’t be daft! He should get a Horntail!”

“We were gunna get one once, not a Horntail, maybe a Hippogriff, but we didn’t get around to it before …” George trailed off as Harry turned around to see what the conversation was all about. Ginny was peering at the guidebook in Fleur’s hands and Ron was watching as George turned away. Harry could see George blink rapidly. Thinking to give George some privacy to compose himself Harry went over to Ginny and slipped his arms around her waist. Resting his chin on her shoulder he asked,

“What should I definitely get?”

“A lotus flower tattoo!” said Ginny. Harry pulled a face and looked at Ron who mouthed ‘mental’ back at him and Harry tried hard to conceal a chuckle.

“No! It’s a great idea,” persisted Ginny. “Fleur, read it out again.” Clearing her throat, Fleur read from the small book in her hands.

“As ze lotus flower grows up from ze mud at ze bottom and rises above to display an object of beauty, so people also grow and change into something more beautiful. Ze symbol of ze lotus flower represents ze ‘hard time in life zat ‘as been overcome. Ze tattoo of ze lotus flower ees popular for people who ‘ave gone through ze ‘ard time and ‘ave come out of eet,” Fleur paused and looked up at Harry as if judging his reaction. Harry smiled faintly and squeezed Ginny lightly but said nothing.

“A flower tattoo?” Ron asked incredulously. “I still think that’s mental. He’s a man, flower tattoos are for girls. Now Fleur, she could get away with a flower tattoo!” Fleur snorted indelicately.

“I do not ‘ave a flower tattoo, Ronald,” she said disdainfully. “I ‘ave a Welsh Green, right about ‘ere.” She waved her hand in the vague direction of her left breast and Ron gulped and the tips of his ears went red. Ginny burst into uncontrollable giggles and Bill grinned broadly as if a particularly nice memory was currently scrolling through his brain. Harry just stared at her.

“Really?” he blurted before he could stop himself. Fleur just nodded. She seemed strangely reluctant to explain further but Bill cleared his throat suddenly and nodded at her.

“Tell him,” he said softly. Fleur looked between Bill and Harry nervously. Ginny’s giggles subsided and she went quiet, watching her sister-in-law intently.

“Viktor, ‘e ‘as ze Chinese Fireball. Eet iz over ‘is heart,” she stopped uncomfortably for a few seconds before hurrying on. “We went to ze tattooist togezer, before we went ‘ome after ze Tournament. Eet was … to pay ze tribute to Cedric.” The group was silent, George had swung back around and Jonathon was watching them in confusion and interest.

“Why didn’t you take Harry?” demanded Ron suddenly, forcefully. Harry said nothing but clung to Ginny as if she was holding him upright as familiar bands of grief gripped him. Fleur looked apologetic and shrugged one shoulder delicately.

“We could not. ‘E was not of age,” she explained softly. Harry smiled at her and the bands of grief encircling his chest seemed to ease a little.

“What a shame I can’t see it,” he said as he winked, making Fleur blush delicately. They stood there in silence, remembering for a moment before Jonathon cleared his throat hesitantly.

“This Cedric, sounds like he, er was,” here he paused, “a friend of yours?”

“Yeah, he was,” said Harry, “one of the first casualties of the Second War.”

“Sounds like he was a real mate,” said Jonathon, nodding his head at Fleur. “I got a tattoo when I came of age.” Jonathon rolled up his pant leg and pushed down his sock. There, fluttering around his ankle was a tattoo of a pixie.

“I know it looks kind of daft but that’s what me mum always called us, her pair of naughty little pixies. She didn’t even know what real pixies were, being a Muggle. We got a right laugh out of it when Professor Fletcher introduced ‘em in second year,” he rolled his pant leg back down and stared out over the water. “We were only sixteen. Not all that little anymore, not really but she still called us that. We never meant no harm. Just high spirits, y’know?” There was a lengthy pause before Jonathon continued.

“We went to a Thunderer-Warrior game. Playing for a spot in the finals. Some idiots near the boundary decided to throw things at the Warrior’s Keeper. He didn’t sort of take that too well. He flew at the crowd and the Thunderer Chasers started scoring up a storm with the goals unmanned,” Jonathon had a faraway look on his face and his eyes were beginning to sparkle with unshed tears. “The brawl in the stands was magnificent but it went pretty much downhill from there. Both the teams started brawling and even though it’s been against the rules, International standards be damned, for Warriors and Thunderers to bring wands onto the field since the Catastrophe of 1889, someone obviously had one.

“Blew the stands apart. They reckoned afterwards it was a stray bludgeoning spell. David fell about fifty feet. We were up pretty high. Me older brother managed to grab me but David … fell,” Jonathon let a lone tear escape down his cheek. It was startling. He had been nothing but jovial and cheerful the short time they had known him. “We woulda been seventeen in three more weeks. Hardest thing I ever did was go back for seventh year without me twin brother. So I went and got me pixie tattoo before I went, so I could sorta take him with me. Been nearly six years and I still miss him.” George made a strangled noise in his throat as Jonathon swiped at his cheek with the back of his hand. He looked up to see the rest of them, eyes riveted on George and he swung to look at him.

George started to tremble and Ron finally broke out of the stupor they were all in and dashed over to his older brother, catching him just as George began to crumple to the ground. Jonathon, alarmed, looked back to the others. Harry saw Hermione swallow heavily. She was watching Ron hold George as he cried silently.

“It’s not supposed to still hurt,” wailed George suddenly, startling them all. Ginny pulled herself free of Harry’s arms and flew to George, wrapping her arms around him as her own silent tears coursed down her cheeks. The three youngest Weasleys sank to the stone floor of the pavilion and Jonathon, confused, turned to Hermione, his eyes begging for an explanation. It was Bill who offered one. Pulling out his Muggle wallet he flipped it open and handed it to Jonathon. Inside was a picture of his family on his wedding day, he and Fleur standing together in the middle, his parents either side of them and his siblings, except Percy, gathered around. There, next to Mr Weasley stood both Fred and George making silly faces at the camera. Jonathon’s eyes went wide and he looked up in shock as Bill, pointing at the twins, quietly spoke.

“Fred … he – he was killed two months ago.”

“In the war?” Jonathon whispered and Harry nodded. Jonathon swore. “Strewth, if I haven’t gone and put me foot in it again! I’ve got a knack for ear bashin’ youse about just the wrong things.” Jonathon shook his head at himself.

“You weren’t to know,” said Hermione, watching Ron and George. Watching Ron take care of George, it seemed as though Ron was the older brother and George the younger. Ron had one arm around George’s shoulders as he handed him a handkerchief with the other. Ginny was kneeling next to them her hand on George’s knee and George himself had his head on Ron’s shoulder. Harry saw Ron whisper something to George who sat up and Ron suddenly looked older, more mature, like the man he was now. George laughed weakly and Ginny smiled. Ron rose to his feet and then helped George up.

“Sorry,” muttered George as he turned to Jonathon who shook his head fiercely.

“No, don’t be sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” George shrugged.

“Didn’t tell you, can’t know,” he said. “I’m fine.” Jonathon shook his head at that, sorrow etched on his features as he looked George’s tear stained face.

“It will be,” the Australian said. “It doesn’t hurt this bad forever. Something missing still, but it doesn’t hurt so bad anymore.” Harry felt a rush of affection for their new friend. None of them, as hard as they had tried, had been, or ever would be able, to talk to George like this, to reassure him and comfort him. Another tear leaked from George’s eye and dripped slowly down his face as he looked at Jonathon.

“It’s like … he’s still here and then I turn around and … he’s not. I keep trying to talk to him and he’s … not there,” said George brokenly. While Harry and the others had sensed all of this, it was the first time any of them had heard George say it out loud. His voice was filled with anguish and heartbreak. “I just miss him … so much.” Jonathon took a step towards George.

“I know,” he said simply. “I know. It gets easier, I promise.” George suddenly looked so vulnerable, standing there and a cold wind whipped up out of nowhere, gusting through the pavilion and making them all shiver. George wrapped his arms around himself and nodded absently and the group stood there in silence for some minutes. Jonathon hesitantly cleared his throat.

“Say, do any of you like Quidditch?”he asked. Hermione burst out laughing and Harry grinned.

“I do believe I am the only one of us who hasn’t played it,” said Hermione. “This lot are nutters for it.”

“Well,” Jonathon said slowly, “the thing is that after the accident the AQL – that’s the Quidditch League – gave us a family box. Me brother and me don’t really make an entire family so it’s never been full but there’s a Warriors game on tonight. If you wanna come?”

“Do we want to watch Quidditch?” asked Ron, grinning. “You’re asking Weasleys if they want to watch Quidditch? Let’s go!”

The Wollongong Warriors were playing the Newcastle Narguns, Australia’s all female team. To get to the Quidditch pitch, located in a remote section of the National Parks surrounding Newscastle, north of Sydney, the group travelled by a uniquely Australian form of travel; Flidging. It was quite simple, even logical when it was explained. When wizards had first come to Australia they brought with them the English customs, including those of jumping into fireplaces when travelling. This proved ultimately untenable on this hot continent and most wizards began to fly everywhere, creating a lot of trouble for the Magical Law Enforcement Squad. Being seen by Muggles became a very big problem and the smuggling of banned flying carpets had been an issue during the nineteenth century. Witches and wizards were most active during the winter months when lighting fires and travelling through them was not such a trial. Many Central Australian wizarding communities experienced high degrees of isolation because of the length of time during which Floo travel was untenable. When Muggles introduced electricity and Australians generally stopped having fireplaces altogether, wizarding homes began to look quite odd with their chimneys, smoking at odd times of the year. Wizarding genius, (according to Jonathon) Billy Madigan, had devised an ingenious way of concealing the Floo and making it comfortable at the same time.

Most wizarding homes and businesses boasted, in one corner of the kitchen, a large, white chest. Wreathed in magic, these chests were charmed to be rather large cold cupboards resembling Muggle refrigerators. If a Muggle happened upon one they thought they were looking at a fridge but when a wizard opened one it was concealing a fireplace. Not only did the cooling charms on the chest fool Muggles into thinking they had opened a fridge, but they made Floo travel a lot more comfortable given you departed and arrived at an icy location. Billy, the genius (Ron muttered to Harry that he doubted Billy’s genius just between the two of them) had diverted all the wizarding flues to local Muggle power stations and other industrial outlets and the smoke blended with Muggle smoke so that smoke didn’t waft out of thin air, or houses that were already deemed strange, on days where the temperature hit a Century. The actual Floo travel wasn’t that much different and not all establishments had a Flidge but it was largely the way it was done so local colloquialism (and Billy Madigan) had named it Flidging whether there was a Flidge present or not. It was the preferred method of travel for short distances only. Some of the larger distances involved in the vast country were unworkable. There were simply too many vast stretches of deserted country to connect the Flidges to each other. It kept Ernie and his Roobus in business.

“Me mum thinks it’s a complete porkie pie when I tell her we travel through the fridges,” said Jonathon as he handed the pot of Flidge powder around. “Course they’re not really fridges are they, but she don’t really get that either. Good woman my mum, but not real into the whole wizard thing. Now you all know where we’re going? Wollemi Quidditch Pitch.” And Jonathon vanished in a flash of green flames. One by one the others followed him, emerging into a long, narrow corridor where dozens of wizards and witches were emerging from rows of Flidges.

“It’s good work being a Flidge maintenance officer,” mused Jonathon watching a portly wizard in navy blue robes wave a wand at a nearby Flidge in frustration. “I mean, he don’t look like he’s having a good time, but he’s never out of work, is he?” Indeed it looked as though maintaining the long line of Flidges in this corridor alone could take a considerable amount of time.

“There is an awful lot of er, Flidges,” agreed Hermione.

“Only way to get all the barrackers here on time,” said Jonathon as he led them towards a rickety looking flight of stairs that led up to a rather lopsided little door. “They messed about with broom travel first but you gotta hide that from the Muggles and the prescribed routes were getting blocked and then the broom parking when everybody arrived, nightmare it was. This might be the greatest area of wilderness in these parts but we just can’t charm an area big enough to conceal the pitch and the broom holding areas.

“Too rugged to run a train line in. Ernie was gunna run the Roobus in at one stage but he nearly dropped it to the bottom of a gorge. Apparating in works okay if you’re licensed but most people just Flidge in now.” They had reached the top of the stairs and Jonathon pushed open the little lopsided door. They filed in to the little room as gasped when they saw glittering pitch beyond the open box they were now standing in. It wasn’t as big as the Quidditch World Cup but it was impressive all the same.

The box they were in was decorated with a plush red carpet and a series of mismatched armchairs. The six goal hoops stood at either end of the pitch, glittering in the light that seemed to come from a thousand lanterns strung up around the edges of the pitch. A large billboard dominated one side of the pitch and it currently scrolled advertisements for local businesses. A number of agile looking wizards flew brooms from box to box offering refreshments from chests perched precariously on the back of their broomsticks. Whenever one turned to extract a delicacy from the box Harry thought they would fall off and plunge to the earth below but they were obviously well practiced at what they did.

“Cor, you Aussies take your sport seriously,” marveled Ron as he gazed into the pitch. George, Harry and Ginny joined him, hanging over the edge of the box, drinking in the atmosphere of the game. The pitch was filled with miniature armies of dancing mascots putting on a pre game show for the crowd and music was pumping from an unseen source. Jonathon laughed as he came up behind them.

“Muggles and wizards alike, sport’s a religion around here, mate!” said Jonathon as he beckoned one of the broom-riding refreshment wizards over. “The most worshipped in the land are sportsmen, even if they get themselves into trouble with the law – Oh, eight pies mate - Muggles are particularly bad at idolising the biggest mugs out there! We’ve had our share of course. Was Blue Terrigan who caused a big ruckus when the dopey galah thought he’d give Muggle drugs a try. The Oracle had a field day when he managed to con some dealer into giving him the wrong sort. Opening season game for the Brisbane Boomerangs and the silly plonker goes and falls off his broom! Lifetime ban Blue’s got now.”

“Here why would anyone call their kid Blue?” asked George. “That barman called me Blue as well come to think of it.” Jonathon laughed as he collected the meat pies from the refreshment wizard.

“It’s the hair mate,” he chortled. He only received seven blank looks in return. “Universal nickname for all redheads.”

“Well, that’s just stupid,” muttered Ron as he took the offered pie. “Where’re the peas?” Jonathon handed him a red bottle.

“No peas here mate, just the dead horse,” he said. Ron looked at him, revolted, as Jonathon burst out laughing. “Ah, I love trying out this Aussie slang on you lot. It’s priceless.” He wiped a tear from his eye that had leaked during his rather insane moment of hilarity. “It’s only tomato sauce.” Jonathon continued to chuckle as they sank into the various armchairs and waited patiently for the game to begin.

“Now, what you gotta remember is that the Narguns are the first and only all female team in the League and that none of the other teams have any female players on them at all,” Jonathon told them. “They’re a pretty new team, only about five years I reckon and they’ve got good backing and extra Ministry grants – which is a political minefield really – but they can’t catch a trick. The blokes all play dirty on ‘em. But the Warriors are down three players tonight. The Thunderers caused major injury to two in the last game and the third got himself a four match ban for trying to referee by way of his fists. So they are playing with reserve players. The bookies reckon this is the best odds the Narguns’ve ever had.”

“How come there’s only seven female players in the entire League?” demanded Ginny. “Do they think women can’t play or are they just a bunch of sexist pigs?” Ron, Harry and George shrank away from her, looking at her blazing eyes warily.

“Er,” began Jonathon as he took a step back, “I honestly, really, don’t know. It wasn’t sort of my decision. But er, well I definitely think there should be more female Quidditch players. I mean they’re good to watch-”

“Because they are very talented players,” interrupted George hastily. “Here Ginny, have a chocolate.” George dug deep into the pockets of his jacket, pulling out and offering her a half wrapped piece of Honeydukes complete with pocket fluff. Ginny eyed both the chocolate and George disdainfully and turned her back on them, suddenly intently interested in the advert currently scrolling across the billboard for Superior Sporting Supplies - where you can get all your Quidditch needs – trading since 1857 at number twenty four Origin Alley. Harry realised everyone else was looking at him expectantly and he had absolutely no idea what he was supposed to be saying or doing.

Ron arched an eyebrow at him and tilted his head in Ginny’s direction. Her back was ramrod straight and her arms clearly crossed angrily across her chest. A distant roar from the crowd heralded the arrival of the Warriors and Harry watched them flying triumphantly around the pitch as Ginny’s back stiffened even more. The Warriors were either naturally burly and arrogant looking or they had an inflated sense of confidence at the prospect of facing what was obviously the League’s weakest team. They looked menacing and many had leering grins on their faces as they watched the Narguns enter the playing arena. Ginny shifted slightly and Harry could see her eyes, glittering with barely suppressed fire, as she watched the opposing team swirl breathtakingly around the pitch. Harry heard Jonathon whisper to George that he suspected sexist piggery at work but he wasn’t about to admit that to Ginny right now. George nodded at him and proclaimed the wisdom of that course of action. The fourteen players on the pitch flew into position to start the match and the referee brought out the balls, ready to begin. Ginny suddenly swung around.

“Not that any man in my life would think I couldn’t play,” she said, a challenge clearly evident in her tone. Her brothers all shook their heads vigourously and Harry smiled at her.

“There’s nothing you couldn’t do Ginny,” he said and winked at her. Ginny blushed and her posture softened slightly. “You’re already a brilliant Quidditch player and any professional team would be lucky to have you.” Ron rolled his eyes at him but Harry just grinned at Ron from behind his sister who had jumped into Harry’s lap and thrown her arms around his neck. Harry slid his arms around her waist and pressed a kiss to her cheek before whispering that they were going to miss the start of the game.

Soon they were hanging over the edge of the box, cheering on the Narguns as the all female team threw themselves into the match. It was a brutal game and more than once Harry found himself wincing as a Bludger connected with a player or a broom went spiraling to the ground before its rider could correct the descent. Ron and Ginny began a heated discussion about the Warrior’s Chasers and their attacking formation and George soon interjected that the Nargun’s Beaters needed to disrupt it more they couldn’t rely on the Keeper entirely to block shots.

“But ze Beater, zey are to hit ze Seeker, not ze Chasers,” insisted Fleur.

“Ha! Like George ever sent a Bludger at a Seeker!” Ginny harrumphed.

“Well most of the time me and Fred were too busy sending them away from Harry!” protested George. “Direction wasn’t really something we paid attention to when saving him from certain death!” It did not escape Harry’s notice that for the first time George had mentioned Fred without stumbling over his name or seeming visibly distressed.

“But isn’t the Keeper’s job to block the shots? Why should they rely on Beaters to disrupt the Chaser line up?” asked Bill. “That’s just lazy Keeping.”

“Different ways of playing I guess,” muttered Ron as he studied the technique of the Warrior’s Keeper. There was a collective gasp around the stadium and Ginny groaned as the Nargun’s Keeper clipped the middle goal hoop and flew out of control halfway across the pitch letting three goals through before getting back into position. It brought the score to 220 – 80 in favour of the Warriors. The Newcastle Narguns were being slaughtered and Harry searched the pitch for the little golden winged ball as the Weasley siblings continued to debate the benefits and merits of different playing styles.

Harry saw the Snitch seconds before the Warrior’s Seeker spotted it and went swooping after it. His robes flew out behind him as he executed a magnificent dive that took him across the pitch and the path of the Nargun Chasers, sending two of them spinning unchecked to the earth as they tried to evade the opposing Seeker. Harry, his eyes on the Snitch as it zipped across the pitch, glinting in the lamplight, did not see the brawl that broke out behind the play between one of the Nargun’s Beaters and two of the Warrior’s Chasers. The Beater had the advantage, although her use of her Beater’s bat was brutal and likely illegal.

Harry’s eyes were riveted on the Snitch as the Nargun’s Seeker, a slight woman with dark hair that streamed behind her, swooped down, past the Warrior’s goalposts and straight to the earth before leveling out and shooting up, directly under the Snitch to snatch it out from under the overconfident Warrior’s nose. The crowd erupted as the Warrior’s Seeker, dazed, flew directly into the side of the stands and his broom handle wedged there, suspending him twenty feet above the ground, dangling ridiculously from the tail of his broomstick.

“Yeah!” yelled Ron, pumping his fist in the air. “Take that you sexist pigs!” The rest of the box watched, amused as Hermione threw herself at Ron and caught his lips in a searing kiss. Ginny giggled bashfully and Bill grinned while George rolled his eyes dramatically and taking Hermione’s jacket which she had discarded on the back of her chair, threw it over their heads, effectively blocking them from his view. Ron and Hermione carried on regardless and Harry swore he could see Ron’s hands move into a rather compromising position under the jacket and he shuddered and looked away, back out to the pitch where the Nargun’s Seeker was circling the pitch victoriously, holding the tiny struggling ball aloft.

“I can’t wait to play Quidditch,” said Ginny softly as she watched the winning team celebrate. “I’ve really missed it. I really do want to try out for professional Quidditch, you know. I wasn’t joking or trying to get one over Ron when Oliver suggested it.” She looked Harry in the eye as if daring him to say anything.

“I know, Ginny,” he said honestly. “I didn’t think you were joking. I really do think you’d be fabulous at it, I wasn’t just saying that.” Ginny studied him intently.

“You weren’t?” she asked. Harry shook his head.

“Did you think I was?”

“Yes – No …I don’t know,” she confessed. “Part of me wondered if you were humouring me. You talk about getting married and that’s not really going to be possible if I’m off playing Quidditch.”

“Why not?” demanded Harry, softly but decisively. “Who made the rule that you can’t be married and play Quidditch too?” George and Jonathon were busy ribbing Ron and Hermione for their earlier display and Bill and Fleur were sitting closely, whispering to each other. Harry and Ginny were effectively alone. Ginny shrugged.

“It’s just, you know, when you settle down and get married you have to make a home and stuff,” she chewed on a fingernail nervously. “Blokes want to come home to a nice tidy, cozy house and all that, don’t they? Baking and cooking and scrubbed floors, that doesn’t happen if their wife is off playing Quidditch.”

“Marriage isn’t keeping house, Ginny. It’s making a home, a family,” said Harry. Ginny looked at him in surprise as he continued. “Clean houses and baking don’t make happy families. I don’t want to get married because I get a housekeeper out of it – I don’t even know if you can do that!” He grinned and Ginny playfully slapped his arm. “I already know how to do all that for myself. I want to marry you, when we’re both ready, because I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. If I have to do all the cooking and the cleaning while you play Quidditch, well you’d better buy me some cook books – I’m only really good at breakfast … of course, I do have a house elf …” Ginny laughed before sobering slightly.

“I don’t think I’m ready for marriage yet,” she whispered. “I’ve been worried every time you brought it up because I don’t want to settle down and cook and clean straight out of school. I thought that’s what you wanted.” Harry shook his head.

“I just want you to be happy,” he said softly, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t mean to make you feel pressured. I’m sorry.” Ginny caught his hand and lowered it, tucking it around her waist. Harry pulled her towards him as she reached up and slid her arms around his neck.

“It’s okay,” she said so only he could hear. “I want to marry you too, one day, not too far away, but not yet. Can you wait, you know, until I sort myself out?” Harry smiled and nodded, lowering his face to hers.

“Ginny, I will wait for you forever, if that’s how long it takes,” he breathed as he claimed her lips in a kiss that she deepened immediately. Harry’s other hand slid around her shoulders and ran down her back to her hips. He lost himself in her embrace and the feel of her body pressed against his and the way her curves felt under his hands as he ran them up and down her body. His arms tightened instinctively and he lifted her up ever so slightly as his tongue caressed hers while her hands caressed his neck.

Neither of them noticed or cared when George threw Hermione’s jacket over them and they continued kissing heatedly until Ron rather pointedly tapped him on the shoulder because it was time to leave. Harry Flidged back to the hotel with a broad smile on his face the whole way.