Chapter Text
Author’s Note:
This is set somewhere around 3 years after the Second Wizard War. At the start of the story the characters are roughly:
Harry, Ron and Hermione (21 Years Old)
Ginny (20 Years Old)
With this being the case the story is roughly set (at the start) in Autumn of 2001.
Chapter 1
“You’re sure about this dear?
“Yes Mum,” came Ginny’s reply.
She stood on the threshold of The Burrow’s entrance, her suitcase waiting outside levitating, wrapped in a tight hug.
Her Mum, Molly Weasley, had never been one to make her “goodbyes” quick—a fact Ginny, along with her older brothers, had grown used to—when it came to sending someone off. First had been Charlie, and next Bill, the cycle was broken on the next three, Percy ‘the twat’, followed then by Fred and George and lastly Ron. While all her brother’s, minus Charlie who’s work in Romania kept him busy, visited regularly, in pain of receiving a howler, for their weekend dinners.
“Molly, it’s time for us to let Gin go,” Arthur spoke up from behind his wife. “She’s an adult, we need to let her experience life,” Arthur added, gently placing a hand upon Molly’s shoulder.
“But—”
“Molly,” Arthur chided softly. “She’ll be fine. And if anything should go wrong Gin has Ron.”
Hearing her husband’s words Molly, somewhat reluctantly, let Ginny go, deliberately holding her at an arm's length as she got one last look at her daughter.
“Thanks Mum, thanks Dad. I’ll keep in touch, an owl whenever I can,” Ginny added.
Pulling away from her parents Ginny stepped over the threshold and made her way through the garden.Only when she slipped through the garden and out of the Burrow’s wards did Ginny withdraw her wand. And with an all-too-familiar feeling Ginny apparated away from the Burrow.
***
“Oi, Gin where you at?”
Ron’s shout came following the Click of the door closing behind him.
“Over here,” Ginny called back from where she sat at the table.
Most of the day had passed since Ginny, having said her ‘goodbyes’ to her parents, had apparated to London. Upon her arrival, a slightly more removed portion on the outskirts of the city, in London Ginny had traversed her way through the streets until reaching Ron’s flat. Predictably Ron had been away when she arrived, however the house key he had given her worked, so she went about her business of unpacking.
As the hours passed, the gloomy cloud-covered afternoon giving way to the rapidly darkening evening sky, Ginny had found herself growing more-and-more antsy. She wasn’t used to the waiting, not entirely, however she was also not used to the silence that was Ron’s flat. At the Burrow there was always something happening—the constant shuffling and scraping of a magic’ed brush scrubbed away at dishes, the moans and clanging of the ghoul that took residence in the attic, or the ticking of the Weasley family's clock that seemed to resound throughout the house—whereas in Ron’s flat the same could not be said.
“How’d the move go Gin?”
“Relatively smoothly,” she commented back. “Mum was fretting so Dad had to step in at the end.”
From halfway down the hall Ginny heard Ron’s telltale laugh.
“You’d think Mum would’ve gotten better after the first couple left,” Ron chimed in.
“Not likely,” Ginny countered quickly as she watched Ron come into view.
Her brother looked rough . If there was one thing Ginny had grown good at it was reading her brother’s, Ron in particular. His usual unruly mop of thick coppery-red hair was damp and heavily disheveled. The Auror robes he wore—and took pride in wearing—were heavily creased and displayed the telltale signs of spilt coffee and tea. And his features were no better than his robes; he sported the first stages of a very patchy bear and the bags under his eyes looked as if he had applied make-up.
“Your—”
“Shut it,” Ron cut her off.
“Fine,” Ginny conceded, a mischievous thought entering her mind. “Mum can be a bit protective, but her best was when she heard about you and Hermione.”
“Gin drop it,” exclaimed in minor irritation.
Unable to hold herself back anymore Ginny let out a laugh. One of Ginny’s, and probably George’s, fondest memories—a silvery thread she kept stashed away in one of the drawers in her room—of post-war had been two years previous. Ron, fresh from the Auror’s academy, had arrived at the Burrow late one afternoon with someone the Weasley’s knew all-too-well. What transpired next had made their Mum nearly faint and their Dad struck dumb, and George and Ginny quipping in with witty remarks that kept escalating. Ron had brought Hermione over, not as a friend, but as his girlfriend.
Sensing her brother’s built up tension Ginny spoke once more. “Ron, you got plans for the evening?”
Its a simple question that draws a pause from Ron.
“No. Why d’you ask?”
“I was thinking we could drop by a pub, maybe grab a drink and some food.”
Ginny’s suggestion has its intended effect upon Ron. She watches as Ron’s previous haggard expression gives way to a more cheerful and natural look.
“Sure, just give me a moment,” and with those words Ron ducked into his room emerging a handful of minutes later in fresh clothes. “Gin, you ready?”
“Yeah,” Ginny replied, lifting herself out of her chair.
Making her way down the hall Ginny, pausing enroute to slide socked feet into the boots she had worn on her trip over, swung open the door to Ron’s flat.
“Bugger this,” came a cry from the hallway.
Intrigued by the noise Ginny poked her head around the door frame of Ron’s flat and glanced into the hallway. A man, probably around Ron’s age, stood outside the door of the neighboring flat. He wore a dark cloak overtop what looked—from the briefest of glimpses she got—to be the same Auror’s robes that Ron often wore.
“Oi, Harry, everything okay?”
Ron, having heard the outburst in the hall, stepped past Ginny, ushering her out of the flat and into the hallway before closing the door and locking it with a flick of his wand.
“Yeah, everything’s fine,” the man—Harry—responded, kicking the door to his flat. “Just forgot my keys, they’re probably on my desk at the Ministry,” Harry seethed.
“When you’ve swiped your keys from the office, wanna stop by the pub? Grab a drink and whatnot with my Sis and I?”
Its an innocent enough question from Ron that drew Harry’s attention. Clearly Ron knew Harry.
Ginny sees Harry’s lips move but doesn’t truly hear what he says, instead catching what sounds like, “Not sure . . . see if I’m up to it.”
“C’mon man, join us. It’ll be good for you to get out,” Ron counters back in a louder voice.
“Fine,” Harry relents; “just let me grab my keys and I’ll meet you over there.”
***
Silence. Seeming endless in its length and awkwardness had settled upon their small table within The Drake and Thistle pub. It was a silence that had grown when Ron, the very person who had dragged the other table occupants to the pub, had vacated the table to grab them another round of drinks.
It is Ginny, sensing that Harry himself won’t say anything, who first speaks up.
“How long have you and Ron known each other?”
Her question snaps Harry out of whatever thoughts he had been in.
“I’m not too sure . . . sixteen months, no, probably closer to two years now,” Harry responds a little while later, having chewed over and thought out his answer.
“Did you meet at the Auror Academy?”
“Sort of, we did meet at the Academy,” Harry pauses, glancing down at his nearly empty pint. “I was his mentor—of sorts—in his final year.”
Harry’s answer takes Ginny by surprise. Judging based on how Ron and Harry interacted the two Auror’s were clearly the same age, yet Harry’s answer gave rise to a series of further questions because of timelines. Ron had entered the Auror Academy three years ago, roughly around when she was going into her final year at Hogwarts. So, how was it that Harry—someone who was barely older than herself—had already been a full fledged Auror when her brother had gone through the Academy.
“How wer—”
“Sorry about that wait. I grabbed us some refreshments .”
Never had Ginny been more infuriated at her brother for interrupting her conversation. Ron, somewhat oblivious in his drunken state, dropped the tray with their drinks and food hard upon the table as he announced his return.
“What did you get us?”
It was Harry who spoke up first making any further questions from Ginny obsolete.
“I grabbed us each a pint, plus,” Ron paused as pointed towards the tumbler glasses; “a bottle of firewhiskey for us to share—before taking it home, cuz I ran out of mine,” Ron added, his voice going soft at the end.
“Thanks mate.”
“You ran out?.”
Ginny’s question was asked with raised eyebrows as she stared at her brother.
Firewhiskey was something Ron, like Ginny and their other siblings, had grown accustomed to drinking the spicy liquor over the previous years in memoriam of Fred. So to see Ron ordering firewhiskey, let alone admit he had run out of his personal bottle, brought a variety of questions to Ginny’s mind.
Was Ron not telling her something? Was her brother troubled? Why did it feel as though he had gravitated towards the firewhiskey?
All of these questions, and more, ran through Ginny’s head as she tentatively reached a hand towards the glass of firewhiskey. Her questions unasked and unanswered Ginny took her first, and a somewhat experimental, sip of the spicy liquor.
Over the next half-hour Ginny quietly watched Ron and Harry converse. They covered a wide array of topics: recently written articles in the Daily Prophet and the monthly quibbler; new pubs, restaurants or other eateries they had been to; quidditch, which Ron bemoaned the Cannons recent performance; yet the only topic they never strayed near was that of work. They were both Auror’s, but refused to speak about anything that might relate back to work.
It was as the two Auror’s closed out their discussion on quidditch that Ginny found herself unwillingly brought back into the conversation loop.
“Harry, next time we both have a break and there’s a game we’ll have to go to a Tornado’s game.”
Ron’s words, slurry with alcohol, twisted Harry’s expression up in confusion.
“What’re you talking about Ron? You're not a Tornado’s fan.”
“You’re right ‘bout that Harry, however I have to regrettably pretend to cheer, especially when Ginny’s out there,” Ron responded, clapping a hand onto her shoulder as he let out a drunken laugh.
“You play quidditch.”
While Ginny understood what Harry meant, his words less of a question and more of a statement, a part of her grew miffed.
“You bet she does,” Ron exclaimed, his voice rising to a near shout. “My lil Sis is an upcoming star. Got scouted by a top team.”
Embarrassment rising, her face growing nearly the same shade as her hair, Ginny made an attempt to quiet her brother by jabbing him in the ribs. Her attempt, somewhat violent in its method, had the intended effect. With a yelp of pain Ron cast Ginny a questioning glance.
“What position do you play?” Harry asked, his interest clearly piqued.
“Six.”
Ginny’s response was soft, however it was clear Harry had heard her. From across the table Ginny watched Harry nod his head in understanding and respect. Six, one of the three Chaser positions, could be thought of being one of the more prominent positions in Quidditch. The ‘Six’ was often considered the linchpin of a teams attack; across the Quidditch League the highest scoring people were often the ‘Six’ or would later become one.
“That’s impressive,” Harry acknowledged with a sharp nod. Clearly Ginny, and her accomplishments, had drawn Harry’s respect and interest. “Any idea when you’ll make the main squad?”
It was an innocent enough question, one Ginny had expected to come up following her brother’s noisy claim.
“Not too sure on that,” Ginny answered honestly. “Coach—and his staff—asked if I’d be willing to sit until the next break. I agreed, and said ‘sure, it’ll give me time to observe and learn their playstyle’ after signing.”
He nods.
“That’s a smart decision, both on yours and the team's part,” Harry commented. “It’s too easy for a new player to arrive and be thrust into the lineup and not be ready . . . just look at the Cannons.”
“Oi, sod off Harry,” Ron interjected sullenly.
Unable to control herself Ginny let out a peel of laughter. Harry’s comment had been spot on.
With that comment from Harry, Ron sullenly brought back into their conversation, the three of them fell into more relaxed and casual conversations.