The Bargain
7: The Ultimate Domestic Test
By Mr. Intel
Chapter 7 - The Ultimate Domestic Test
August 6
Suddenly, Ginny found herself on top of Harry and her hands traced down his arm as they explored different kisses. As Harry took the initiative in kissing her, a geyser of happiness shot up inside her.
Soon, Ginny was the one on bottom and their breathing came in shorter and shorter intervals. Harry’s hands had been limited to running through her hair up to this point, a fact that Ginny relished, but she admitted to herself that she wanted him to be more generous with the rest of her as well. As Harry finally got around to doing so, Ginny felt a sudden and familiar build-up of magic centred where he was touching her.
"Harry," Ginny said suddenly, breaking their kiss. "Harry - I think we’d better stop...for now, anyway."
"What? Why?" came Harry’s breathless query.
Ginny laughed at his obliviousness, at his eagerness, and at his still-unguarded attraction for her. "I don’t fancy blowing you into the wall, for one, and I’m certain the noise would wake Mum and Dad."
This seemed to get through to him, and he sat on the far side of the sofa. "Oh. Right," he said, running a hand through his tousled hair.
They sat like that for a while, each lost in their own thoughts, when Ginny laid her head in his lap. "I don’t want to go back to bed. I don’t want to leave you."
He began to play with her hair and smiled in the dim light of the setting moon that spilled through the window. "I don’t want you to, either, but I think your mum might take exception to finding us here in the morning, don’t you?"
Ginny hid a smirk with her hands and then looked up at his grinning face. "I suppose you’re right. What can we do about it? Stay up all night chatting? Frankly, I’d rather be kissing you, instead."
"Yeah, but that’s going to get out of hand soon," Harry added.
"Exactly." Ginny frowned at the thought of finally being able to really enjoy kissing someone, and the fact that the someone she could kiss was Harry — her Harry — yet they could only kiss, and kissing Harry was not nearly enough to satisfy her. She sat up and thought for a moment, finding Harry’s hand with hers. "What if I kip on the floor and you stay on the sofa? That way, we can still be with each other, and Mum won’t have anything to accuse us of."
Harry seemed to think this idea through and finally nodded his head. "How about having me on the floor and you on the sofa?"
Ginny wrinkled her nose. "Can’t — it’s stuffed with horsehair — I can sit on it, but I can’t lie down on it without swelling up like a balloon," she said.
"Well, then," Harry replied, "your original plan should work then."
Ginny hopped up and whispered, "Stay right here. I’m going to go grab a pillow and blanket from my bed."
When they were situated in their blankets, Harry on the sofa, Ginny on the floor beside him, he reached a hand down to her and she pulled it close to her cheek. Content to be this close to him and still gushing inside from their kissing, Ginny let her mind relax and soon found herself in a peaceful sleep.
*
The noise of heavy footfalls on the stairs awoke Harry later that morning. A pain in his neck forced him to turn over from his side to his back, and as he did, someone sucked in their breath from the kitchen door.
"Ginevra Molly Weasley," said Mrs. Weasley sharply and Harry turned to look at her, wondering why she was referring to him as Ginny. Then, with a start, he remembered his encounter with Ginny earlier that morning and how it had ended.... His cheeks burned as the image of Ginny’s mum catching them snogging on the sofa flew through his mind.
Ginny’s head shot up from the floor between the couch and table, her hair impossibly tangled, her eyes bleary, but panic-filled, and she squeaked, "Mum?"
"Sleeping with Harry, now?" her mum teased with a mock scowl on her face.
"Mum!" Ginny exclaimed, clearly not seeing the humour in the situation. "I was on the floor. Harry was on the sofa. We’re both fully clothed — nothing happened."
"Umm-hmm," Molly said, her eyes twinkling in the dim morning light.
Now that the tension of being caught had passed, Harry realized that his initial panic was caused mostly because he hadn’t realized that only he and Ginny knew of the change to their relationship. The look Molly was giving them indicated not only did she know, but she most certainly approved — at least he hoped that’s what the look meant.
"Mu-um," Ginny whinged. Then something wicked flashed across her face and she said, "The whole reason Harry was down here in the first place was because his bed was occupied."
Molly’s smile faltered and her eyes zeroed in on Harry. "Who was in your bed?"
Not wanting to get Ron or Hermione in trouble, he searched for a way to tell the truth while keeping as many details out of the conversation as possible. "Um, well...when I was going to turn in last night, Hermione and Ron looked like they needed some time alone, so I decided to sleep down here. Ginny came to check on me in the early morning."
With lips pressed thin, Molly nodded and turned back towards the stairs. "I’ll be right back."
Ginny beamed at Harry and slid a hand through her hair to straighten it out. Molly’s head peaked around the doorway and she said, "Don’t think you’re off the hook, either, Ginny. Harry told me why he was on the couch, and I anxiously await hearing your reason for being here, as well."
Her head retreated and they heard her stomp up the stairs while Ginny sat heavily onto the cushion next to Harry. Ginny’s head found Harry’s shoulder and he automatically put his arm around her waist to pull her closer. She sighed and Harry smiled.
Soon enough, the sound of loud voices, a spell being fired, a yelp and two doors slamming filtered down through the stairwell.
"Thanks," Harry said into Ginny’s hair, not quite able to breathe properly with her so close to him. "For coming to check on me last night."
Ginny giggled. "It was certainly worth anything Mum’s going to do to me for sleeping so scandalously close to you. I’ll be branded a scarlet woman for sure."
Fear fluttered in Harry’s stomach as the thought of it being all a dream popped into his head. Just as quickly, though, Harry realised that if it were a dream, Ginny wouldn’t have slept on the floor, wouldn’t be snuggled up to him, and he wouldn’t be able to still taste her mouth in his.
He shivered at the memory and Ginny looked up at him. "What?"
With another thrill of excitement, he leaned down and captured her lips with his. "Mmf," she said just before she returned his affection.
Satisfied that it hadn’t been a dream, Harry pulled away and was pleased to see a wistful expression on her face. "Mmm," she said. "What was that for?"
"Just to make sure I hadn’t imagined it," he said slowly, still finding himself drawn to her lips.
Ginny seemed to sense this and kissed him, but she pulled away too slowly and he followed her face back against the sofa until he had pinned her to it. She didn’t seem to mind, but he knew that it was risky to be kissing Ginny in the open when her mum was awake. Reluctantly, he drew back and saw the dazed look had returned to her face.
He stared at her as she slowly came out of her trance. "I think it’s safe to say that everything this morning has been quite real, Harry."
"Yes, and quite good," he agreed.
Ginny blushed just then and Harry heard a noise from the kitchen, causing him to pull back completely from her. He stood, offered her a hand, and together, they folded their blankets and then tucked them along with their pillows under their arms.
"I’d better make sure Hermione’s okay," Ginny said as they walked towards the stairs.
Harry nodded. "Meet you at breakfast, then."
They held hands up the stairs and when they became unlinked as Ginny went into her room, Harry felt the joy in his heart diminish, as if something like a Dementor had sucked it out of him.
Grudgingly, Harry marched up to Ron’s room and prepared himself to face Ron with Ginny’s kisses still fresh on his mind.
*
In Ron’s room -- after he had deposited the blanket and pillow back in the linen closet -- Harry found his friend scribbling a long letter at his desk.
"Hey, Ron," Harry said nonchalantly, "sleep well?"
Looking up from his letter, Ron gave Harry a withering stare and returned to his letter. "Ha, ha. I suppose you think it’s funny that Hermione was caught sleeping in my bed?"
Harry pulled out a clean set of clothes and sat on his clearly just-slept-in-bed. "No, Ron, I don’t. I do think the fact that you were caught sleeping with Hermione in my bed is hilarious, though."
Ron tossed his quill aside and turned to face Harry, his face glowing. "It was brilliant, though — even if I do have to write her parents and tell her what happened."
"You what?" Harry asked.
"I have to write a ruddy letter to Hermione’s mum and dad, explaining that Hermione fell asleep in my bed..."
"My bed," Harry corrected.
"Fine," Ron replied with a sigh. "Your bed. Then I have to apologise and promise to never do it again." Ron stared blankly at one of the Canon’s Beaters as he hit a Bludger over and over. "Where’d you sleep anyway?"
"On the sofa," Harry said automatically, thinking back to Ginny’s kisses. As he did so, his face began to heat up and the world around Ron began to become unfocused.
"Why the happy grin? You like sleeping on that lumpy, horsehair-stuffed antique?"
"Huh?" Harry asked as Ron came suddenly back into focus.
Ron sniggered. "Your face," he explained. "It’s like you..."
A strange tension materialized in the air, like the electrical charge before lightning struck, and Harry was suddenly afraid for what Ron was going to say next.
"Hold on. Where did Ginny sleep last night?"
Damn, Harry mentally cursed himself. "Um..." Harry stalled, but knew there would be no getting out of telling the truth. "On the living room floor."
Ron’s face, instead of growing dark, lit up like one of Filch’s torches. "I know that look!" he said, waggling a finger in Harry’s direction.
"What look?" Harry asked sheepishly. "I didn’t have a look on my face."
"Yes, you did," Ron retorted. "It’s the face of someone who’s been snogging!"
Another flash of emotion ran up Harry’s spine and he let out a surrendered sigh. "Fine, Ron. I snogged your sister. It was lovely. Are you happy now?"
Instead of answering, however, Ron let out an excited, "Yes!" as he punched a fist into the air. He ran out the door and thundered down the stairs, laughing the whole way.
Harry followed, albeit more slowly, and with much less enthusiasm. Ron was in the process of pounding on the twins’ door. "Wake up, you lazy sods," he said. "You owe me twenty Galleons."
Hermione and Ginny wandered upstairs just then. "What’s all the racket?" asked Ginny.
The door cracked open and a sleepy-eyed Fred looked out at his brother. "What are you going on about now, Ronniekins?"
"You owe me ten Galleons, and so does George."
Another identically exhausted face appeared next to Fred. "Who are you again?" he asked.
Ron pushed into their room and pointed at a calendar hanging on their wall. "Today is August sixth. You said that Harry wouldn’t have the nerve to kiss Ginny until the eighth. Harry just ‘fessed up to kissing Ginny. That means you owe me ten Galleons apiece."
Harry heard Ginny and Hermione both gasp at the same time from behind him.
Ignoring the girls completely, Fred and George turned their heads as one and looked at Harry. "Are you saying that the Black-Haired Hooligan of Hogwarts has had his way with our little sister?"
"Just how far did he get last night?" Fred continued, looking back to Ron.
"Fred!" Ginny exclaimed.
"Have you been monitoring his progress?" George asked. Harry was impressed that neither of them showed the slightest bit of a smile. If it wasn’t part of the Weasley genetic inheritance, he now knew where Ginny had learned her acting skills.
Ginny was silently fuming just behind Harry and he decided to attempt to defuse the situation. "Relax, guys, your sister’s virtue is intact," he said. "We’re both under a little restriction, remember?"
Fred scratched at his chin and struck a pensive look. "That’s right. Just snogging, hugging, with limited physical contact above the shoulders, below the knee, the waist and arms," he recited. "Not much to worry about, then."
"I can’t believe you!" screeched Ginny, who apparently had not taken the opportunity to calm down. "Betting on when Harry and I would kiss! It’s bad enough that we’ve got to be married in a week, but you pinheads are making wagers on whether or not Harry scores on your sister?"
Fred and George immediately backed into a corner, obviously just noticing her presence in their room. "We made the bet before you hexed us!" George said defensively. "We’d completely forgotten about it, honest!"
Ginny’s eyes narrowed and she whirled on Ron. "You know, I thought you’d be the least stupid of the lot, seeing as how you’ve got a girlfriend. But apparently you’ve not learned your lesson." She raised her hand at Ron, who flinched as she did so, and then she stormed out of the room and rushed downstairs.
Ron was frozen in place, his eyes scrunched tight. Hermione walked over to him and slapped his shoulder, sending a puff of red hair floating to the ground. "Ron, that was utterly immature and horribly insensitive. Since you obviously consider kisses to be horridly degrading, let’s see how you like going without them for a while." Then she, too, walked into the hall and hastened after Ginny.
Risking a peek, Ron’s eyes opened one at a time and he let out his breath. "At least she didn’t hex me," he said, relief evident in his expression.
"Uh," Harry said with a smirk. "I wouldn’t categorize what she did to you as a hex, per se." He gave Fred an inquisitive look. "More of a charm, wouldn’t you say?"
Fred wandered around Ron, looking him up and down, then nodded once. "Definitely a charm."
George scrunched his nose and added, "Abrado Pilus, if I’m not mistaken. It’s darn good, too."
"What?" Ron asked, his face suddenly ashen. "What’d she do to me?" He was looking frantically at his limbs, feeling his chest and hands.
"A depilitation charm, Ron," Harry explained, "You’re bald! According to my recollection, you should be bald all over, too," he said with a broad smirk.
*
Luckily for Ron, his mum had a half-empty bottle of Madame Margaret’s Magical Hair Restorer and Lengthener. Ginny silently hoped that it was out of date and wouldn’t work, but was pacified when Hermione told her of Ron’s additional punishment. It paid to have Hermione’s support and Ginny was going to make sure that she knew how much she appreciated the older witch’s backing in her ongoing struggle to educate her idiotic brothers.
Breakfast passed by in a blur and Ginny’s mind was divided by her need to sleep and her desire to kiss Harry again. It was like a drug that Ginny couldn’t get enough of — very unlike her other kissing experiences — and she mused over her scones and bacon whether it was healthy to be so attracted to one boy. As she popped the last of the fried bread into her mouth, she decided that it didn’t matter much, as their love would either bloom or stagnate, but they were going to be married either way.
"Ginny?" Molly called from where she was making the day’s shopping list by the kitchen secretary. "I need you and Harry to do some shopping for me. I just don’t have time to spend in the village today. Would you take care of this for me?"
Ginny placed her dishes into the sink, made sure the brush and sponge began to clean them, and then walked over to the secretary. "Sure thing, Mum," she said, glad to have a whole morning to spend with Harry.
"Wonderful," her mum responded. "I’ll just go freshen up, and then I’m off. Be sure to get the apples a little under-ripe, all right?"
"Yes, Mum." Ginny hated being lectured on how to pick fruit. True, she was abysmal at it, but she could certainly know when an apple wasn’t ripe, couldn’t she? "Two dozen under-ripe apples."
Molly scrutinized her daughter for a moment, then stood and handed Ginny a small purse. "This is all the Muggle money we have until I have some more exchanged at Gringotts — be sure to spend it frugally."
Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Ginny took the purse and tucked it into the pocket of her dressing gown. "Yes, Mum."
"Good girl." Molly patted Ginny on the shoulder then walked up the stairs, with Ginny following.
*
They waited until ten to make sure the shops would be open. Harry observed that in the city, most shops opened at eight, but Ginny knew the slower pace of small-town Devon would mean later openings and earlier closings. It was a rare, quiet morning in this mad week, and Harry enjoyed the chance to doze in the garden, enjoying the early morning sunshine and waiting until it was time for them to leave.
Ginny led Harry down the lane towards the village in the mid-morning sunshine. It followed the river’s course until just before Ottery St. Catchpole began and then thrust itself into the village proper. The river, on the other hand, wound around the small town and through several private properties, including one very large castle that loomed to the south.
"Who lives there?" asked Harry, pointing at the overgrown walls and sloping lawn between it and the ancient structure.
"Dunno. Charlie claimed it was abandoned and goaded the twins to try to break in a few years ago," Ginny explained, fingering the small satchel slung across her back. "Mum was livid that day, I can tell you, but they never did get inside to see if anyone was home."
Harry stared a long while at the castle before turning back to Ginny and taking her hand. "Looks like an odd sort of place, don’t you think?"
Shrugging her shoulders, Ginny snaked an arm around his waist. "Maybe. I’m more concerned about making sure Mum’s apples aren’t quite ripe. I’m miserable at selecting produce."
As they neared a shop entitled, Volker’s Victuals, Harry gave Ginny’s side a squeeze and said, "Let me handle the fruit. After having to pick fruit for the Dursleys, I reckon I’ve got a good enough eye to know what’s ripe and what isn’t."
The shop was small, but the produce selections plentiful and cheap. Ginny never bought anything here but fresh foods, despite having a deep fondness for the owner. Gertrude Volker was an immigrant from Germany who, like other first-generation transplants, found a niche in her family’s new community and excelled at it. Gertrude always chose to sell from local farms, and had even sold green beans from the Weasleys’ garden, back when there were more mouths to feed in Ginny’s family. She was a kind, round woman with a head full of grey hair, and spoke with a faint accent.
"Velcome to Volker’s," the elderly woman said, upon noticing them enter the store. "It is very nice to see you again, young Ginny." Then, noticing her proximity to Harry, winked at her and said, "Mind yourself by the vegetables. I’ve just watered them down."
"Thank you, Mrs. Volker." Ginny smiled at her and led Harry towards the apples.
"She seems nice," Harry commented, already picking through the Galas.
"She’s one of the nicest people I know. I’m going to invite her to the wedding, you know."
Harry glanced at Ginny before moving over to the Macintosh bin. "I have a feeling there’ll be a lot of people invited that I don’t know but are very nice. That is, if you’ve invited them, anyway. You want me to show you how to suss out the ripe ones?"
He put a few apples into a plastic bag and began to look at the Gravensteins. "I don’t know," Ginny said innocently. "I’ve got a few cousins that are nightmares to be around. There’s one who’s Muggle born — to my mum’s cousin — who’s an accountant, but their parents didn’t want her attending Hogwarts."
"Isn’t that a bit odd?" Harry asked, now completely ignoring the apples. "How many people would keep their kid from becoming a fully-qualified witch?"
Ginny sighed. "Yes, well, Mafalda’s a handful by normal standards. I can’t imagine if she had a wand and learned how to use it. She’s a Slytherin in the making, if I ever saw one."
"A Muggle-born Slytherin, eh?" Harry mused. "That’d get Malfoy’s hackles up."
"If she’d have gone to Hogwarts," responded Ginny, "Malfoy would have had so much trouble with her, he’d have no time to bother you."
"All the more reason for her to be in Slytherin, I suppose." He laid a hand lightly across the tops of the apples and said, "So...how can you tell a ripe apple from one that’s not ripe enough?"
Ginny gave the bins of apples an appraising glance and tapped her lips with a finger. "By their colour?"
Harry smirked and picked up a piece of the dull-red fruit. "Colour is one of the things you need to look for, yes. This one is almost perfectly ripe — its skin is firm when you gently squeeze it." Which he did. "The colour is uniform instead of splotchy." He twirled the apple around between his fingers. "And most importantly, there aren’t any bruises. Aunt Petunia must have boxed my ears for bruised apples at least a dozen times before I got it right."
"That wretched woman. I ought to box her ears for abusing such a wonderful young man." Then seeing the look on his face, she took the apple from Harry’s hand, tossed it into the air and deftly caught it. "I’ll eat this one, then," she said with a twinkle in her eye.
Harry filled the bag with the right amount of apples and they walked to the bins holding the onions and carrots.
"Three onions and a dozen carrots," Ginny read from the list. "That’s it from this shop. We need to go to the bakery and the grocers after that."
With another plastic bag, Harry put in the vegetables and they headed over to pay. "Why do we need to go to so many shops? Wouldn’t it be easier to just go to the grocer’s and be done with it?"
As Ginny paid for their purchases, she shifted against him and took the two bags. "Good bye, Mrs. Volker."
"Good bye, dear," said the shopkeeper and they left the shop with the bell jingling merrily on the door.
"It would be easier," Ginny explained as they walked between the fresh produce store and the adjoining tack and feed shop. "But it would also be a lot more expensive. We’ve got just enough money here to buy what we need, but only if we’re careful about how we spend it."
She took a quick glance around and when she was sure no one was looking their way, Ginny tucked the two grocery bags into the satchel. They disappeared into its depths, leaving no indication it held anything inside, whether by weight or bulk.
"Charmed bag?" Harry asked as she buckled the lid.
"Yep. It makes shopping loads quicker and makes holding hands possible again."
With a faint blush, Harry reached out a hand and said, "So, vegetables and fruits at Vokler’s, bread at the bakery, and...what about the meat?"
Ginny took Harry’s hand and led them around the corner and north along Maberly Way. "We only buy some bread at the bakery, and we still have peppers and garlic on the list. Cut meat comes from the butcher and packaged meat from the grocer’s."
They passed a small flower shop and Ginny stopped to smell them. "Mmm," she said, taking a deep breath from a bouquet of flowers. "I love the smell of pansies." Then she ran a hand over the smiling faces of a nearby clump of daisies. "But daisies are my favourite."
Harry took a bill from his pocket and walked into the store, leaving Ginny waiting outside. He quickly returned with a single daisy in his hand. "If they are your favourite, then you shall have one."
Pleasantly surprised, Ginny took the flower and wrinkled her nose. "Thank you, Harry. They are my favourite, but I can’t say they smell very good."
His face fell and Harry made a half-step towards the shop door. "Shall I get you a pansy instead?"
Ginny broke the stem in half and pushed it into the hair over her ear. "No, Harry. This is perfect." She gave him a reassuring smile and was rewarded with a quick kiss.
They moved on to the bakery and bought a package of rolls, but not any regular bread. The grocer’s was next and Harry was astonished at some of the prices. Holding up a bag of rolls almost identical to the ones they had just purchased at the bakery, Harry said incredulously, "These are more than twice as expensive."
"And that’s why we shop around," Ginny explained, taking the rolls and placing them back in the bin. "We can buy the rolls and the bread with the money we would have spent on these."
Shaking his head, Harry pulled on Ginny’s waist until they were hip to hip. He bent his face low and whispered into her ear. "And that’s one more reason why I love being with you."
Ginny sucked in a breath and stared into Harry’s eyes, her vision becoming foggy from unshed tears. "You...really mean that?" she asked, wiping at her eyes with the sides of her fingers.
"Yes, Ginny," Harry soothed. "How could I not? You’re funny and pretty and dead wicked when it comes to saving money."
With a playful slap on his shoulder, Ginny let out a happy laugh. "You watch it, Mr. Potter, or I may have to forget how to be thrifty when I’m the fabulously wealthy Mrs. Potter."
*
The door to the Burrow burst open an hour later and Harry and Ginny literally stumbled across the threshold and into the kitchen. Harry was clutching a stitch in his side from laughing so hard and Ginny immediately slumped to the floor in a fit of unrestrained giggles.
"My, my," said Mrs. Weasley, as she walked over to look at the laughing teens. "Had a good time shopping, I see."
Once Harry had gained partial control of his vocal cords, he said, "Your daughter...is...unbelievable!"
Molly took the satchel from Ginny and began to unload it onto the table. "She is quite something, yes. Do you mind telling me what’s so funny?"
Harry opened his mouth, but Ginny was quicker. Suddenly free from her giggling, Ginny said in a stern voice, "Don’t you dare say a word, Harry. I told you in the strictest of confidence."
Banishing the meat to the cold pantry and the bread to the dry one, Molly harrumphed. "When Arthur and I went shopping, we always ended up fighting. It figures that you two would end up in a laughing fit." She grabbed the produce and walked to the sink.
"Oh, Mum," Ginny said, standing up and brushing off her skirt. "Don’t be jealous. Harry and I are just different. I’m sure we’ll end up fighting over something just as silly."
The carrots were levitated from their bag and dipped themselves into a sink full of water. Then they started to spin in the air as one and their peels corkscrewed off and into a waiting bowl. "Perhaps you’re right," Molly sighed. "Never mind that. You get washed and help me make dinner. Harry, Arthur’s home and wanted to have a word with you — he’s in the garden."
Ginny rolled her eyes, pecked Harry on the cheek, and then walked upstairs to her room.
Harry wonder briefly if Ginny’s dad wanted to talk to him about last night’s sleeping arrangements and had an involuntary shudder run down his spine.
"Don’t fret, Harry," Mrs. Weasley said with a glance at the door. "You won’t be lectured about sleeping on the sofa, or he’ll find himself there tonight."
Pinching his lips between his teeth, Harry nodded and opened the door. "Thanks, Mrs. Weasley."
Arthur wasn’t in the garden, which made sense when Harry thought about it, because they would have seen him when they walked home. Instead, Harry found him in the shed and, with a nervous glance back at the window that marked Ginny’s room, he turned the knob on the door and walked inside.
"Ah, Harry," said the elder Weasley as he looked up from where he was wrist deep in what looked like it might once have been a toaster. "Come in, have a seat, son." He motioned Harry over and resumed the task of pulling wires and knobs out from the depths of the Muggle appliance.
Not wanting to seem presumptuous, and still apprehensive despite Mrs. Weasley’s warning, Harry found a somewhat-clear spot to perch and waited for his future father-in-law to start the conversation that he obviously wanted to initiate.
"Fascinating," Arthur said at length and pulled out a long, crinkled wire. "This seems to be the thing that does it."
"I’m sorry," Harry said weakly. "Does what?"
Putting down the remains of the toaster, Arthur brought the wire over to Harry and explained. "The bit that toasts the bread. Amazing isn’t it — how Muggles have learned to do what wizards have been doing for centuries."
Arthur marvelled at the wire for a moment longer then set it down on the bench to his right. "Now, Harry," he began, placing a warm hand on Harry’s shoulder. "I imagine you’re not quite sure about why I asked you here."
Harry nodded his head. "No, sir."
"Ginny’s mother is difficult to read at times, but she made it clear that I wasn’t to discuss where you and Ginny were found this morning." Arthur folded his arms and gave Harry a lingering stare that made him want to never disappoint this man. "What I’d like to talk to you about is how you and Ginny are getting along."
Harry quickly shifted mental gears and let out a small sigh. "We’re...closer now. She’s brilliant, actually, and I wonder if I’m good enough for her at times."
Arthur nodded his head knowingly and began to slowly pace in front of Harry. "That’s to be expected. We never tell women this, but men are almost always the dead weight in a relationship. They are smarter, wiser, more rational, and most certainly better looking then we will ever be."
Flashes of Ginny ran through Harry’s mind as Arthur spoke — Ginny telling him off at Grimmauld Place, bringing him chocolate in the Hogwarts Library, demanding to be brought along to the Department of Mysteries, and more recently, her conniving plan to hex her brothers. She was definitely more intelligent than he, and Harry’s feelings of inadequacy grew the more he thought about it.
"More importantly," Arthur continued, "men bring balance to women’s lives. They may not realise it, and we would never point it out, but they need us as much as we need them." He sat down across from Harry and pulled out a small pipe, similar to the one he had seen Dumbledore use from time to time. "You’re probably already noticing how important Ginny is to you."
"Yeah," Harry said, not really looking at Mr. Weasley, but very much concentrating on their conversation. "It’s like I’ve found another half of myself that I never knew existed."
"Exactly." Arthur tapped the end of the pipe with his wand and a wisp of smoke trailed into the air, filling the shed with a warm cherry scent. "And now that you’ve found it, you can’t imagine ever losing it. Am I right?"
Harry thought even more deeply about Ginny and found himself nodding again. "It would destroy me to lose her," he admitted. "It’s only been a few days, but I look back at the person I was last week and it seems like I’ve changed almost completely. I mean, I’m me still, but I’m...better...more complete, somehow."
They sat together, each with their own thoughts, the hazy smoke from Arthur’s pipe slowly filling the sealed shed. Finally, Arthur stood and approached Harry. "Don’t let anything get between you, Harry. Cherish what you’ve gained with Ginny — build it into something that can never break and you’ll never have to worry about losing it."
Looking into Mr. Weasley’s face, Harry asked, "How? I mean, she’s not exactly even-tempered, and I’ve been known to lose mine from time to time.... How do we keep what we have strong?"
The pipe seemed to have gone out, and Arthur tapped the back of it with his hand, depositing the ashes onto the floor between them. "Don’t try to change Ginny — let her find her own way, or you’ll end up with a resentful wife. Girls think differently than boys, thankfully, so you can expect there to be rough patches. Finances, raising children, how many children you want to have...they are all things that can lead to arguments. You’ll have arguments," he said with a chuckle. "You’ve probably already had a few, and they’ll get worse. The key is to never let what’s bothering you fester. If you can resolve things quickly, you’ll be able to keep the scars from getting too deep."
In the dimming light of the evening, in Arthur Weasley’s shed, Harry made up his mind about Ginny Weasley. "I’m going to marry her," he said solemnly. "And I love her."
So intent at looking at his knees, Harry missed the grin that split Mr. Weasley’s face. Knowing what he had to do, then, Harry stood and said, "Mr. Weasley? I’d very much like to have your permission to marry Ginny."
Arthur gave him a quizzical look. "Bit late for that now, isn’t it?" The quizzical look morphed into a broad smile. "Harry — son," he said and took Harry into his arms, "I wouldn’t have it any other way." They embraced for a moment and then stood apart. "In perfect hindsight, I wish things could have waited a while, but I know you’ll treat her right."
"Yes, sir. I will."