18. Skies Are Blue
Sunday in
Origin Alley dawned bright, clear and cloudless. Harry lay peacefully in bed,
slowly surfacing from a deep and satisfying slumber when Ron and George began
to obnoxiously fight over use of the ensuite. Harry
tried to block out the noise by holding his pillow over his ears but it failed
to ensure he did not know that their fight was because Ron was anxious to get
away with Hermione for the day and George was going out with Jonathon and the
possibility of picking up some ‘sheila birds’ was not
out of the question. As he reached for his glasses Harry idly wondered what
George had going with Katie if he was so willing to pick up casual women but
mentally shrugged because it was none of his business. The argument was averted
when Hermione and Ginny came into the room and Hermione declared their ensuite free and George raced in to use it.
“Don’t
leave a mess in the sink!” yelled Ginny. She turned to Harry a dazzling smile
on her face. “What are we going to do today?” Looking at Ron and Hermione,
Harry shrugged. Hermione averted her gaze and looked pointedly at Ron who had
failed to immediately grab the shower now that it was no longer under dispute
and sat back down to eat the remains of his breakfast at leisure. Harry wondered
why he hadn’t just let George go first while he ate. Ron swallowed the last
bite of his crumpet and shrugged apologetically at Harry.
“We’ve got
plans,” he said simply before turned a delicate shade of pink. “And, er … well, they don’t involve you.” Harry stifled a chuckle
while Hermione groaned.
“Could you
have been any ruder, Ronald?” she hissed. Ron scraped the chair on the floor as
he got up from the tiny table on which the most enormous breakfast tray Harry
had ever seen was balanced precariously.
“He’s not
offended, Hermione,” said Ron over his shoulder as he headed for the ensuite. “He’s been trying to figure out a way to ditch us
and be alone with Ginny since he woke up!”
“Since
yesterday, actually,” muttered Harry under his breath while Ginny giggled and
Hermione huffed, sitting down at the table and helping herself to a glass of
juice and a piece of toast that Ron had somehow missed. Ginny stood awkwardly
next to Hermione and Harry suddenly sensed what it was she was awkward about.
He propped himself up on his elbows, heedless of his bedcovers pooling around
his waist and exposing his bare chest and quirked an eyebrow at her.
“Don’t I
get a good morning snog today?” he asked boldly.
Ginny blushed heavily before flinging herself across the room and on top of him
and captured his lips in a kiss. Harry brought his arms around her and they
both fell back on the bed. They heard the rustle of Hermione burying herself
behind the Sunday Oracle and
continued kissing, Harry’s hands respectably above Ginny’s waist while he
trailed kisses down her jaw and down into the hollow where her neck and
shoulders began. He felt Ginny run her fingers over his chest as she pulled
away and bent down to press a kiss to the oval shaped scar over his heart and
his eyes slid shut only to snap open seconds later when George slammed the door
between the two rooms on his way back from the girls’ ensuite.
“Stop
that!” he grumbled as he threw his towel over a chair. “We don’t need to see
that sort of thing so soon after breakfast. Bill and Fleur need to remember
that too and put up bloody locking charms as well as silencing ones!”
“Well, if
you will wander in on people who are on their honeymoon, George,” said Hermione
idly as she turned a page.
“No! They
need to keep their activities to the
bed instead of leaning against the door!” cried George plaintively. “How was I
supposed to know they weren’t actually knocking? I’ve been scarred for life!”
His little tirade was cut short as Hermione turned the next page and gasped.
George hurried over to see what had surprised her while Harry and Ginny both
tried to leap off the bed at the same time and came tumbling to the floor in a
tangle of bedclothes with a loud thump. The noise brought Ron flying out of the
ensuite clad only in a towel.
“What the
bloody hell - ” Ron caught sight of Harry and Ginny
tangled on the floor and groaned. “Just keep it in until we’ve left, okay?”
Harry blushed and stood up hurriedly.
“We weren’t
doing anything, Ron,” he said as he moved behind Hermione to read the paper
over her shoulder. He did not see Ginny admiring the view as he leant over the
chair, his pyjama pants slung low on his hips but Ron
did and he threw a pillow at Ginny’s head to stop her staring lasciviously at
his best mate.
“That’s not
really your best side, mate,” said George appraisingly as he inspected the
newspaper. “Still I don’t expect you knew you were posing for photographers
when you were groping our baby sister like that last night.” Ron scrambled over
his bag and a pair of discarded shoes to peer at the paper over Harry’s
shoulder.
“Bloody
hell,” he exclaimed. “Well at least they might lay off you and Hermione now.
Hey, wait a minute – Harry is your hand up her jumper?” Harry snatched the
paper out of Hermione’s hands.
“Don’t you
lot have somewhere to be today?” he asked pointedly, refolding the paper and
tucking it under one arm as he folded his arms across his chest. He glared at
Ron who muttered something about getting dressed as he ducked back into the ensuite. George took a look in the mirror and proclaimed himself devastatingly handsome before sauntering to the
door. He turned around and looked Harry up and down.
“I do
suggest you change into something else before you go out in public today, my
good man,” he said, winking. “And do your hair or the photos are going to turn
out dreadfully.” George left the room whistling jauntily while Hermione shook
her head exasperatedly.
“He’s right
though,” she said. “There are bound to be photographers out there today, just
waiting to take your picture. Be careful, okay?” And she swept out of the room
returning seconds later with her handbag and banging on the ensuite
door she demanded that Ron hurry up. They were gone moments later, Ron leaving
behind a dire warning about where Harry put his hands.
“Sod off,
Ron,” muttered Harry as he and Ginny found themselves alone.
“Can I see
it?” asked Ginny softly into the silence. Wordlessly Harry handed her the
paper. He watched as she opened it and flicked through the pages until she came
to the photograph of them kissing in the Quidditch
box the night before. His photograph self ran his hands down her back and, yes,
up under the hem of her jumper. Harry sighed. He hadn’t even realised he’d done that last night. Ginny was reading the
article printed underneath.
WEDDING OF THE CENTURY
CALLED OFF
Well, that is what this publication assumes
given the highly damning evidence contained in this picture captured last night
at the Warrior – Nargun game out at Wollemi. It is
evident, by the neat hair of the maiden in this picture that this is not the
woman with whom Harry Potter, wizarding Britain’s
most eligible bachelor, was planning his recent nuptials. Could he be eligible
once again? Was the rumoured wedding just that, a rumour? Who is the woman in the picture and what
relationship, if any, do they share?
The article
went on to list a few of the events associated with Harry’s life and an
estimation of his net worth, surmising in the end that the woman in the picture
was simply a gold digger, whoever she was. A low growl escaped Ginny’s throat.
“I am not a
gold digger,” she muttered. “And you are worth more than three times as much as
that!” Harry looked at her curiously.
“I am?” he
asked in surprise. “Er, how do you know that?”
“I asked
Bill and he got me the balance,” she said absently, tucking a piece of hair
behind her ear as she turned the page.
“Huh,” said
Harry, staring at her. She must have felt his gaze on her for she looked up.
“What?”
“I never
thought to ask the balance before,” was all he said as he grabbed an apple from
the breakfast tray and headed for the ensuite to
shower.
“That’s
okay, isn’t it?” he heard her ask softly. Harry turned to smile at her.
“Of course
it is,” he assured her. “I’m going to shower, let’s go spend some of it.” And
he winked at her before sauntering through the little door in the corner and
into the ensuite.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Harry had
never before spent a day doing nothing
and yet everything with Ginny, or indeed anyone. The first order of the day had
been to find some breakfast. Ginny had insisted that an apple was not enough to
sustain him and they had ventured into Tucker Run to find several small cafes
open and they shared a plate of pancakes, washed down with strong coffee. At
first Ginny had protested the idea that they finish breakfast with desert but Harry ordered the chocolate mud cake she
had been eyeing off anyway.
“Well,” she
reasoned as she picked up the fork, “it wouldn’t do to waste it.” Harry grinned as he watched her stab the cake and
maneuver a dainty piece into her mouth. Her eyes slid shut as she pulled the
fork slowly from her mouth, sucking off the remnants of the fudge icing. Harry
gulped. His eyes were riveted as he watched her pop another piece into her
mouth and smile in appreciation of the delicacy. He was sitting right next to
her and suddenly felt that it wasn’t close enough. Ginny opened her eyes.
“This is so
good. Do you want some?” Ginny loaded the fork and aimed it at Harry’s mouth
without waiting for an answer. He eyed the fork warily for a moment but
obediently opened his mouth. He was unprepared for the sensual experience that
was to be fed
chocolate cake by Ginny Weasley. As his lips closed around the smooth chocolate
treat he could see the sparkle in her eyes and the smile on her lips. She
pulled the fork slowly out of his mouth and, just as hers had done, his eyes
closed almost involuntarily, rendering all his other senses acute. As the
chocolate melted on his tongue he could feel the heat where her knee pressed
against his leg, her scent overwhelmed him and he heard her breathe softly as
the clink of the fork against the plate revealed her intent to feed him more
cake.
Harry
opened his eyes and conjured another fork and spearing another bite he raised
it to her beautiful lips. The world was just the two of them and a piece of
chocolate cake. When the cake was gone and the two forks discarded Harry leaned
in and captured Ginny’s lips in a soft kiss that tasted of chocolate and love.
They did not deepen the kiss, it remained soft and sweet and chaste but as
Harry entwined his fingers with Ginny’s the kiss touched deep inside his soul
and he felt drawn to her in a way he had not been before. They were barely
touching but there was something intimate in that kiss with only their lips and
hands touching, something that he had not experienced before. As he pulled away
slowly, his lips lingering feather light on hers for just a moment he squeezed
her hand with his to let her know that he was still with her and he watched,
entranced, as she opened her eyes to look into his.
They sat in
silence for a moment, looking deep into each other’s souls. The moment was
broken when a waiter dropped a pile of plates he had been levitating into the
kitchen and they hit the floor with a resounding crash. Harry jumped and then
smiled at Ginny.
“Let’s go
exploring,” he said to her, excitement alight in his eyes. Ginny nodded. They
settled the account and then strolled out into the weak midmorning sunshine.
Sunday morning had not slowed the bustle of Origin Alley and it was as full of
witches and wizards as it had been the day before. A stout wizard in purple
robes and a pointy hat was hawking his crystal balls from a cart in the middle
of the street while a thin, sticklike witch who reminded Harry uncannily of
Professor Trelawney was selling what appeared to be odd tea cups and enormous
bags of tea leaves. The two divination peddlers were glaring at each other as they
called out to passersby to sample their wares. Ginny stopped to admire the rose
pattern on one of the teacups but Harry, eyeing the thin witch warily tugged on
her hand and gently urged her forward. He was vindicated in his action when seconds later spellfire broke out
between her and the purple robed wizard, a sizzling red spell sailing through
the air where Ginny had been seconds before.
As Harry
instinctively wrapped one arm around Ginny and pulled out his wand with the
other hand several surrounding shopkeepers spilled out into the street and with
practiced ease seemed to round up the combatants, pack up their carts and
deposit them each at different ends of the Alley. The incident seemed to faze
no one and the narrow, winding Alley flared back to life within minutes. Harry
put his wand away slowly and looked around warily. He was acutely aware that
Ginny was trembling in his arms and pulled her close protectively.
“Are you
okay?” he asked her softly. She nodded slightly, still trembling and Harry was
not convinced. He attempted to reassure her softly. “I’m pretty sure that was
just an Expelliarmus.”
“Looked
more like Stupefy to me,” muttered
Ginny. She straightened up and took a deep breath, putting on a show of being
very relaxed. “Oh, I’m fine, no problem, no worries,” she said, straightening
her clothes and taking a few steps. Harry rushed after her, putting a hand on
her arm.
“Are you
sure?”
“Really,
Harry,” she smiled a genuine smile, “I’m okay, just startled.” Harry let
himself be convinced and dragged to the nearest shop window to have a look.
Harry savoured the opportunity to peer into shop windows at his
leisure, relishing the feel of Ginny’s hand safely ensconced in his own and the
wonders of a brand new community to explore. He let himself be dragged from
window to window while Ginny exclaimed over unfamiliar sweets, exotic looking
wands and a window with a display of multicoloured
quills. As he watched her almost press her nose against the window of a tiny
shop that appeared to sell dainty little ornaments and adornments Harry realised that she was accustomed to looking in windows only
and was unlikely to actually enter any of these shops of her own volition.
“Oh look at
that, Harry,” said Ginny suddenly, pulling him from his thoughts. “Isn’t it
beautiful? Hermione would adore that.” She was pointing to a tiny jeweled
handbag that reminded Harry somewhat of Hermione’s beaded bag only this one was
golden with red jewels looking remarkably like something especially designed
for Gryffindors.
“Come on
then,” said Harry as he pulled her into the tiny shop. The inside of the store
was crammed with more little bits and pieces than Harry had thought were
possible. Ginny wandered from shelf to shelf exclaiming over sparkling hair
accessories, glass ornaments and strings of beads. Harry trailed after her,
just watching as her eyes sparkled and her lips curved into a happy smile as
she looked at herself in a small jeweled mirror that told her she looked
radiant. He was content just to watch. He had absolutely no idea what half the
stuff in the little shop was for but figured witches knew what to do with tiny
statues made of wire and cloth and delicate little bowls with filigree lids.
There was one corner in which a small writing table sat adorned with a lace
doily and a tiny pink, fluffy cat figurine that stretched and then curled up to
sleep as he watched.
“I like
cats,” said Ginny from behind him, “but that’s just a little too creepy.” Harry
could only agree and, desperate to erase the pink cat from his memory, he
turned and waved rather vaguely at the window display with the little jeweled
bag in it.
“D’you think it would make a good birthday present for
Hermione?” he asked her. Ginny nodded absently as she examined set of tiny
figurines near the counter. They were of round, chubby babies with enormous
eyes that blinked at her when she reached out a finger to touch the little hats
on their heads. The ones with strategically placed leaves appeared to be boys
while others had on tiny fluffy skirts made of what appeared to be a flower.
“They’re
real you know, not like the Muggles think.
Imagination, ha!” scoffed a wizened little old witch from a curtained doorway
they had not noticed. “Even when they do notice things they think it’s their
imagination.” The little old witch had twinkling blues eyes and was grinning,
showing two rows of crooked white teeth.
“They look
like little fairy babies,” said Ginny, smiling as the little chubby figurines
clambered to their feet and toddled along the edge of the shelf on which they
were perched.
“They are,”
said the little old witch, “Gumnut Babies. The Muggles think one of them invented them you know … Muggles, it’s obvious she was a witch, how else would she
know about them?
“Some say they must be enchanted to remain
babies forever as they never grow up, born babies and die babies. I think they
just look different as grown up fairies. Live in the bush, they do. Smaller
than those figurines mind you, no bigger than your thumb I reckon. Course I’ve
never seen one myself, not many people have, too many Banksia
Men.” The wizened old witch shook her head sadly. Harry just raised his
eyebrows at Ginny. The woman sounded completely dotty.
“Course in
areas where there’s lots of them Bowtruckles some
folks reckon they seen Gumnut Babies,” continued the
little old woman, unaware or uncaring that she was not making much sense to the
two British tourists. “Banksia Men don’t like Bowtruckles, crazy introduced species.” Harry shook his
head ever so slightly but it was clear the old woman had no problems with her
sight for she told him off at once.
“I saw that
young man! Don’t you go shaking your head at me! Think I’m barmy, don’t you?
Well let me tell you something, I’m as sprightly as they come. I’m as good as I
was back when I was as young as this little slip of a thing!” she glared at him
fiercely, her blue eyes unrelenting as she advanced towards the counter. “Now
are you going to get some sort of treasure for your young lady or not? That’s
what brings you young fellas in. Lord knows I never
see any of you in here on your own account!”
“But what
are Banksia Men?” asked Ginny quietly as the little Gumnut Baby figurine climbed onto her outstretched palm and
began circling, its little chest puffed out importantly.
“Nasty
little villainous tree creatures,” spat the old woman. “Terrible
curse on the poor Gumnut Babies. Still, I
suppose the Babies are introduced as well. Would have done us all some good I
reckon if we’d left well enough alone. I mean it’s bad
enough we got Hippogriffs but bringing over Bowtruckles
and Pixies is just asking for trouble.”
“So Banksia Men are native tree folk then?” asked Harry,
beginning to see what she was getting at.
‘Yes, yes,”
said the wizened old woman impatiently. “That’s what I’ve been saying. Bowtruckles get along well with the Turongs
as a rule, live together quite fine but for some reason them Banksia Men get spooked by Bowtruckles.
Suppose it’s fitting then that Bowtruckles can’t
stand Banksia trees. Much prefer the gum and pine
forests, do Bowtruckles.”
“So a Turong then is another native tree dweller?” asked Ginny as
she set the Gumnut Baby back on the shelf.
“Yes, don’t
see much of them in the cities though. Only get the domesticated sort of animal
around here,” said the old woman looking pointedly at her watch. “If you want
educating in the life and times of Australian magical folk go ask old Seth at Animalia. I haven’t got time to be educating foreigners
about it. Now are you going to buy something for your young lady or not, Mr Potter?” Harry started, staring at her in surprise.
“Yes, yes,”
the old witch waved her hand at him huffily. “I’m not so
old as senile and completely unaware of the goings on in this world. I know who
you are.” Harry smiled sheepishly as Ginny requested purchase of the tiny
handbag in the window. As he pulled out the Galleons necessary to purchase the
gift for Hermione he noticed Ginny was gazing wistfully at the little shelf of Gumnut Babies.
“Go on, get
one,” he said softly into her ear. “I like that little one with the red skirt.”
Ginny blushed as Harry’s breath tickled her ear and he reached out and squeezed
her hand.
“It’s
silly,” she protested. “I haven’t really got any other ornaments anyway.” Harry
heard the longing in her voice and marveled at the sliver of femininity she was
showing. Sometimes in the midst of her brothers, in a home where money was
tight and not spent on such frivolous trivialities as ornaments, it would be
easy to forget that Ginny was a girl.
Harry reached up and gently lifted down the little figurine in the red skirt.
“Well, this
can be your first one and it can remind you of our first day out together,” he
said, smiling. “And when you are an old lady and a little girl comes and asks
why grandma’s got a funny little fat fairy on her dressing table you can tell
her that you keep it always because it was the first gift grandpa ever bought
you.” Ginny laughed.
“Not true,
you gave me books in first year,” she said. Harry grimaced.
“Yes, well
I didn’t exactly have to buy those, did I? So it’s not the same, not the same
at all.”
“Well, you
can’t just go buying everything I take a passing fancy to, Harry,” Ginny said
as the little old wizened witch wrapped their purchases and counted out the
change.
“Yes I
can,” he whispered cheekily, “but I won’t, because imagine how fat I would get
if I let you feed me too much chocolate cake!” Handing her the little box with
the Gumnut Baby figurine in it he pressed a soft kiss
to her cheek.
“Thank you,
Harry,” Ginny said softly, slipping the little box into her pocket. Harry
thanked the little old witch behind the counter and they turned to go.
“Hold onto
him, young lady,” said the old witch suddenly. Harry and Ginny turned. The
witch was watching them, a strange glint in her eye that Harry could not
decipher. Ginny just smiled as she took Harry’s hand in hers.
“I will,”
she assured the old witch, “I haven’t let him go, yet.” With that they stepped
out into Origin Alley and began walking leisurely towards a shop with cauldrons
piled haphazardly under a faded awning. Harry slipped his arm around Ginny’s
shoulders, pulling her close.
“I’m
holding onto you too, you know,” he said quietly. “I’m never going to let you
go.” Ginny sighed happily and leaned into him.
“I don’t
ever want you to.”
Harry and
Ginny found Animalia several doors away from the tiny
shop staffed by the wizened old witch. A grey haired old wizard with a beard
that rivaled Hagrid’s, dressed in rather gubby grey robes was seated out the front of the store in a
rare patch of sunshine. Harry assumed this was old Seth.
“Mornin’,” said the possible Seth in a low rumbly voice. “Let me know now if yer
comin’ inter the store ter
buy anything. It’ll take me a wee while to get meself
outta this ‘ere chair.” Ginny looked thoughtfully at
him.
“I don’t
know that we are buying anything,” she said. “Can you take animals home
internationally?” Seth looked up at her, squinting in what looked like a
painful fashion.
“Depends on
whether or not you can hide ‘em in yer pocket lassie,” he grinned showing uneven yellow teeth.
“Yer can get permits fer
some things, but yer can’t take the birds and
reptiles.” Ginny peered into the shop through the rather grubby window.
“Goodness
you do have an awful lot of reptiles,” she said after a moment. “Where are all
the fluffy animals?” Harry tried valiantly to hide his smirk. Luckily Ginny did
not notice but the old man grinned at Harry and winked as he hoisted himself
slowly out of the chair, his robes straightening out and revealing the name
Seth sewn onto them near the left shoulder.
“Yer up fer the cost of the permit
as well as the fluffy animal, son?” he asked as he ambled slowly into the shop.
“Come in, come in then!” Harry and Ginny followed him inside. It turned out to
be a fairly large shop filled to the brim with cages upon cages of animals
stacked teeteringly high on top of one another until
they reached the ceiling. Behind the parchment strewn counter near the back
were rows and rows of bottles, packets and boxes on rickety looking shelves.
They were marked with labels that proclaimed them such things as ‘owl treats’,
‘flea powder’ and ‘tincture for the affliction of rashes’. A large cage with a
magnificent looking white bird seated inside was standing at one end of the
counter and the bird was spinning around on its perch and bobbing its head up
and down as it stopped and eyed the cages behind it warily. Harry thought the
bird was right to eye those particular cages warily because he could make out
three ashwinders, one very large spider and a
particularly vicious looking cross between an insect and a lizard.
There was a
vast bank of screened aquariums near the front of the shop and the side walls
were lined with rats, mice and small reptiles. Towards the back of the shop
built in cages and enclosures contained tiny green and blue birds, yapping dogs
and various species of cats. Harry was contemplating a cage of gamboling
kittens wondering if every shop need remind him of Umbridge
today when Ginny let out a little shriek. Spinning towards the sound he saw her
near the reptile aquariums quite unharmed.
“I’m
guessing Lizzie poked ‘er tongue out at yer?” laughed Seth as he stood next to the counter, his arm
inside the white bird’s cage.
‘It- it’s blue!”
stammered Ginny. Harry peered at the aquarium nearest Ginny but saw only a
squat, striped lizard with tiny legs and a short tail. Investigating the other
aquariums he found an eclectic assortment of miniscule lizards, buzzing
insects, a rather alarming looking reptile that looked
like it had a flat sort of ruffle draped over the top of its head and down its
neck, an absolutely enormous lizard with sharp claws and several snakes. Harry
idly spoke to one of the snakes, just to see what would happen and was pleased
to note that nothing did. The snake remained as motionless as it had been.
Seth, the white bird on his arm, shuffled slowly over to them.
“Well o’
course ‘er tongue were blue, she’s a Blue Tongue,”
said Seth. “Wouldn’t be any kind of Blue Tongue if she didn’t ‘ave a blue tongue.” Suddenly the bird on Seth’s arm
squawked and a ruffle of yellow feathers suddenly stuck straight up on its head
rather like a mohican.
“Blue tongue! Blue tongue!” parroted the bird. “Wouldn’t be a Blue
Tongue!” Ginny jumped and Harry laughed while she scowled.
“Well, I
just don’t expect lizards to have blue tongues and birds to talk!” she huffed
defensively.
“They can’t
‘urt yer none lassie,” said
Seth, not unkindly. “Cocky ‘ere is a right sociable
bird, likes ter talk ter
the pretty lassies.” The impressive white bird bobbed its head up and down in
Ginny’s direction a few times before stretching its wings and screeching
loudly.
“Pretty girl! Pretty girl!” Seth gave Cocky a bird treat and
the bird nipped at his finger playfully before shuffling awkwardly to the end
of his arm and stretched over to investigate Ginny’s outstretched hand.
“G’wan, dance Cocky,” said Seth.
“Dance Cocky! Dance Cocky!” said the bird and it began bobbing up and down. “Dance Cocky!” It wove from side to side, its yellow crest
of feathers bobbing up and down and Ginny laughed delightedly. The bird stopped
and looked at Ginny, its head tilted to one side. Ginny stretched out her
finger again and the bird bent down to nip her finger before it began dancing
again, following the direction of her finger. Ginny noticed and began waving
her hand in the air, the bird following her every move.
“Dance
Cocky!” squawked the bird once more before suddenly spreading its wings and
taking flight. It moved so suddenly as it flew up to
the rafters that the reptile with the flat ruffle draped on its head and the
Blue Tongue both seemed to jump and hiss. The Blue Tongue exposed its tongue
again and the other suddenly reared up on its hind legs and flared the ruffle
out, baring its teeth. Harry who was still standing next to that one jumped,
alarmed, and Ginny burst out laughing.
“Don’t laugh,” grumbled Harry, scowling. Ginny shook with laughter and Seth shook his
head sadly.
“Yer better come up the back ‘ere and ‘ave
a gander at the more domesticated sort of animals,” he said, shuffling back to
the counter, “right jumpy, yer lot.”
Harry
trailed after Ginny as she wandered past meowing cats and the odd Kneazle, a fluffy white rabbit and a few rather excitable Puffskeins. Harry watched Ginny coo at the animals and
contemplated that today was the first time he had been able to take the time to
simply watch Ginny and see what spiked her interest and what held her
attention. He knew that she loved cats and that she was fond of Arnold. He also
surmised that she had a particular liking for birds as she had always had more
patience with Errol than anyone else and Hedwig had been particularly gentle
with her. Her recent antics with Cocky and back home with Liberty simply
confirmed this for him and he made mental notes as he watched her fondly. He
felt that such careful observation of her character was adequate recompense for
the fact that walking behind her also gave him ample opportunity to observe her
swaying hips and … other areas of her anatomy.
He’d done
the same, of course, in the little curio shop and now knew that she liked
pretty hair things in muted, rather than garish colours,
disliked large beaded necklaces and overly ornate hair brushes and had somewhat of a penchant for tiny baby
fairy figurines. As Ginny bent over to pat a rather excitable small puppy that
seemed to have a propensity for falling over its own feet, Harry stopped to
appreciate the view while he contemplated what sort of jewelry she might like.
His guess was something small and delicate, understated and definitely not
flashy. Perhaps he could test his theory out, if they found a jewelry shop. He
was roused from his musings by the increased agitation of the puppy which was
now trying to jump out of the enclosure, scrabbling fiercely at the door,
falling over every time she jumped.
“Oh dear,
you’ve got yerself a right problem now,” muttered
Seth. “Downright ridiculously loyal Creelers are.”
“Creeler? Isn’t that just a dog?” asked Harry, gesturing
at the enclosure, perplexed. Seth shook his head.
“Nup. That there is a Creeler,”
he said emphatically. “Some bright spark thought it would be a good idea to
breed a Crup and a Blue Heeler. Now you got the
intense loyalty of a Crup mixed with the intelligence
and loyalty of a Heeler. And what yer gets is one
mighty loyal dog that seems to know which witch or wizard they want to belong ter. And unless I miss my guess, and I never do, that
Creeler there has picked her.”
“Oh look,
Harry!” cried Ginny. “Isn’t she beautiful?” The small white puppy had a large
black patch over one eye and ear, a stout little body and strong muscular legs.
Her ears flopped about as she trotted across the encolsure
to get a look at Harry. Her tail had already been docked and she sported
another patch on one shoulder. She nearly overbalanced as she sat down, cocking
her head curiously at Harry, looking at him with big, soulful eyes. Harry could
not fathom how Ginny had taught her that in such a short period of time.
“Well, all
I can say is our firstborn had better be a boy, because I’m already
outnumbered,” was all Harry said with a sigh as he held out his hand and said,
“better get that paperwork.” Harry arranged with Seth to have the Creeler stay there until they left for home. At first Seth
had been sceptical that the permits would go through
in such a short time, explaining that he’d always found the British Ministry to
be particularly slow at processing animal permit requests because the Minister
himself had to rubber stamp them personally. Ginny assured him that it was not
going to be a problem this time and suggested that they send the paperwork
straight to Percy so that it didn’t get waylaid by some well meaning Ministry
official. When he realised that they knew the
Minister personally Seth agreed to keep the Creeler
until they were ready to leave because it was patently unfair,
and probably not possible, to drag the animal around Australia on a bus.
“She can
stay with Hagrid while we’re in school,” chattered Ginny excitedly as they left
Animalia, the paperwork clutched tightly in her hand
and Harry’s money pouch considerably lighter. “He’ll love that, a new breed and
everything. Oh she’s just so cute, Harry. Did you see her big brown eyes? And
she’s got that adorable patch over one eye. We have to think of a name for
her!”
“She
reminds me of Tonks,” mused Harry as he crossed the
street to the Post Office. Suddenly realising what
that sounded like he stammered, “n-not that Tonks was
in any way a dog. It’s the clumsy thing …” he trailed off uncertainly as Ginny
stopped dead in the middle of the street and he pulled her to the side just in
time to stop her being run over by an erratic witch on a bicycle who turned to
wave a fist at them threateningly and promptly rode into a pile of cauldrons,
both rider and cauldrons clattering to the ground, bringing the proprietor of
the cauldron shop out, shrieking. Ginny watched the altercation as the bike
riding witch huffily straightened out the wheel of her bicycle with her wand
and a well aimed spell and then Ginny turned her glistening eyes to Harry. He
was alarmed because he did not think she’d been so upset as to be crying over a
near miss with a cyclist.
“What’s
wrong?” Harry asked warily but Ginny surprised him by smiling at him and
throwing her arms around his neck. She sniffed and swiped at the corners of her
eyes.
“It’s
perfect,” she whispered to him and proceeded to give him quite the most
delightful snog he had experienced in quite some
time, since breakfast, in fact. Harry was not one to pass up, or question, a
good snog and wrapped his arms around her waist as he
got into the spirit of things by coaxing her tongue back into his own mouth and
sliding one hand up into her hair. He had no idea what had been perfect before
the kiss but he was pretty sure that now,
it was this moment.
When Ginny
eventually pulled away and looked up at him, the parchment forms clutched in
her hand behind his head, rustling in the slight breeze and her eyes shining,
lips swollen. Harry smiled. She beamed back. Smoothing her hair and tugging
lightly on the ends Harry said,
“What’s
perfect?”
“Her name,”
breathed Ginny. “You thought of the most perfect name!” Harry frowned.
“I did?”
Ginny nodded enthusiastically.
“We’re
going to name her after Tonks!”
“You want
to call her Tonks?”
he asked somewhat suspiciously. It seemed about
as appropriate as calling a vicious three headed dog Fluffy. Ginny shook her
head impatiently.
“No, we’re
going to call her Dora!” she exclaimed, “Dora the dog!”
“She’s a Creeler,” corrected Harry automatically. Ginny waved her
hand impatiently behind his head and the parchment she was holding rustled
against his head in a rather annoying fashion.
“Details,
details,” she proclaimed as she untangled herself from his embrace and grabbed
his hand, dragging him into the Post Office where they were stopped abruptly by
a rather annoyed looking wizard in a most unbecoming pointed hat.
“You young
people today have absolutely no propriety!” he said, waving his finger at them
in what he obviously thought was a menacing fashion before stalking out the
door.
“Oh don’t
worry about old Vernon,” came a bright voice from the
rear of the Post Office. “I swear he’s been grumpy since the day he was born!”
Harry rather thought the name was appropriate and he stuck his head out into
the street to watch Vernon stop and berate a small boy who was waving a
lollipop carelessly as he skipped along the footpath.
“Cheery
fellow,” said Harry sarcastically has he drew his head back into the shop and
focused on the Postmistress who was sorting parcels and tying them to the legs
of some rather interesting birds that rather reminded him of Cocky. She
finished her task and came forward to the counter.
“Now, what
can I help you two with today?” she said. Her eyes crinkled up at the corners
pleasantly when she smiled and her hair was sneakily escaping the bun she had
tied it in that morning. She wore a large apron with oversized pockets that
bulged with pieces of string.
“We need the
quickest way to send this back to London,” explained Ginny. The Postmistress
rummaged under the counter for a moment and pulled out a rather large envelope.
“Well, your
best bet is sending it by Mail Portkey. You could
send it by birds but it takes an awful long time and there’s always the risk of
it getting lost in one of the transfers,” as she spoke she opened a drawer and
withdrew a roll of Spellotape, a pot of ink and a
quill. “It’s a bit more expensive mind but a lot quicker. It should be there
this time tomorrow.” Ginny quickly filled out the paperwork required for a Mail
Portkey and the witch behind the counter sealed their
permit application in the envelope. Summoning down a Barn Owl she attached the
envelope to its leg and sent it to the International Portkey
Station at the Airport while Harry counted out the appropriate fee.
“Oh, so
beautiful,” breathed Ginny. Harry looked up to see a pale pink bird had swooped
in bearing a large box and landed on the counter.
“We’re not
getting a bird, Ginny,” he said warily but Ginny just laughed.
“What sort
of bird is it?” she asked the Postmistress. “It looks a bit like Cocky.”
“Well
that’s because it is a cocky!” laughed the Postmistress, untying the parcel
from its leg and letting the cocky fly up to a perch above the window where
Harry could see a collection of similar birds in different hues ranging from
majestic black with a red tail, through to grey and yellow and the impressive
white they had seen before. The pink bird seemed to lord it over them all in
splendor despite the fact that after taking a long drink it tucked it’s head under it’s wing and went
to sleep.
“But you
just used an owl,” said Ginny in confusion. “Why was that bird bringing mail?”
The Postmistress finished tying the large parcel to a large owl which took off
through a specially designed hole in the roof before answering.
“Well, most
of the Australian owls are endangered,” she explained simply. “There’s a decent
amount of Barn Owls and Boobooks and a few others but
there’s just not that many owls really. Occasionally you get a few Rurus, New Zealand Boobooks they
are, hanging about as well on the East coast like here but basically the Barn Owl’s just not as adapted to the climates as Cockatoos.
“Galahs are
completely useless of course, dozy birds, and Corellas are just too small to
carry anything much but they are earnest little things, some folks like ‘em. There’s just too many climates
here and no one bird suitable to fly them all. Those Major Mitchell’s are
suited to the Western Deserts,” she stopped and indicated the magnificent pink
bird that had flown in earlier. “So if you’re wanting
to send something to or from there you use a Major Mitchell for that bit. You
can get those white ones – Sulphur Crested they are,
to go up north or along the east coast. Your Black ones will go south west and your grey down south, really very easy once you get the hang
of it. Owls and Boobooks you can use for shorter
trips but they get a bit disoriented if you try and get ‘em
to fly across too much desert.”
“Goodness,”
said Ginny in wonder, “the distances sure do make things tricky around here.”
“Bit of a
nasty shock for some people,” nodded the Postmistress. “You can’t just expect
to be in the next city by lunchtime. It can take days to get to the top end if
Ernie’s having a busy time of it on the bus.”
“Days?” goggled Ginny, “how can it take days?”
“It’s just
that big, love,” shrugged the Postmistress as if this were completely normal.
“If Ernie’s got enough stops and you’re the last one to get on, well you could
be waiting a while. Always best to bring a packed lunch or two on the bus.
Course it never usually takes that long, but most people like to be prepared.”
“I hope it
doesn’t take days to get to wherever it was Hermione said we’re going,”
muttered Harry.
“Oh, you’re
going on the bus then?”
“Yes,”
Ginny nodded, “down south somewhere, tomorrow.”
“Best take
a lunch then,” said the Postmistress nodding sagely. “Mondays is when the chess
club all gets on. Got a standing booking they have, every Sunday they get on
the bus and come here to play chess and every Monday off they go home. Ernie
sometimes complains it takes him all day to take the chess club home never mind
the rest of the passengers.” Harry thought that being trapped on a bus with an
entire chess club was not the most promising thing he’d ever heard of but Ginny
echoed his thoughts as they left the Post Office when she said,
“Ron should
appreciate that then.”
They
continued their lazy stroll down Origin Alley, buying Kiwi flavoured
ice cream at a small stall next to a barber and browsing an extensive
bookstore. The sign in the apothecary window proclaimed that it would sell Billywigs only to persons of age and they both spent quite
some time fossicking in the Sports Supply store and
exploring the AQL teams and specialised Quidditch gear for the Australian climates. They picked up
a book on Australian Quidditch for Ron, a rather
fancy quill for Hermione and something called a mystery box for George from a
joke and costume shop, hoping that it would do something interesting that would
enable them to take the mickey out of him.
They kept
to no timetable, stopping for lunch only when Ginny’s stomach rumbled loudly
causing her to blush in embarrassment and Harry to double over with laughter.
Harry watched carefully as Ginny pressed her nose to a jeweller’s
window and pointed out a rather ornate glittering necklace she thought her
mother would love and then studied the delicate chains and small glittering
pendants, exclaiming over several that featured a small stone that flashed with
many different colours. Ginny did not attempt to enter this store
either and Harry, deciding that he stood no chance of buying her a surprise
birthday gift today, did not enter either but he had guessed correctly about
her jewellery preferences. He smiled to himself as
they moved away from the jewelry store arm in arm, towards a window filled
mannequins dressed in a variety of dress and every day robes.
The shadows lengthened and it grew colder as they huddled together, walking back towards the hotel and Harry looked up into the fading blue sky and thought how it had been a wonderful day and how much he had learned just by being with Ginny on a peaceful day filled with sunshine and her smile. They’d done simple things together, bought gifts for family and friends, sent mail and sampled food; they’d even bought themselves a pet. It was the sort of peaceful future he’d dreamed of with Ginny and he smiled softly to himself as he hugged her closer and decided that if he dared to dream them, then perhaps his dreams really would come true.