The Fifth Weekend
If one were to ask Ron at any time at all sometime after the sixth or seventh item of the list had been completed how he was feeling, he might have punched you, and that was only if you were lucky enough to catch him on a good day. Harry and Hermione were the only people who get close enough to speak to him, let alone try to reason with him. Even so, Harry had been quite afraid of Ron for the last week, something that hadn't escaped the near catatonic Weasley's notice.
On Saturday, Harry was sitting in the Common Room with Hermione working on Transfiguration homework (An essay describing exactly why a certain spell, when not performed correctly, could have very unpleasant consequences and why they should avoid this). Harry had been trying to decide for the last half an hour or so the best way to turn the sentence "Because having a head of cabbage soliciting you for sex is unseemly" into a page-long essay when his best friend walked over and sat down in the armchair next to him.
"See, look, Harry, this is me being calm," Ron said. Harry looked up and saw Ron sitting very rigidly in his chair, staring straight ahead. "I'm very calm, aren't I?"
"Yes, Ron, you are," Harry said, not wanting to say anything accidentally that might trigger an explosion. He suddenly wanted very much to move a book or something else big and heavy in front of his private region, and he tried to indiscreetly move his book over to protect himself. Hermione gave him a Look.
Ron sighed heavily, obviously trying very hard to really calm down, when suddenly he seemed to just deflate. "I don't get it, you know? I just don't understand. She's my baby sister . . . I mean, I'm not always nice to her, and you know, but I do care about her. I try to protect her and be there for her, and now she's going and getting herself into trouble. Not the kind of trouble that her bastard ex-boyfriend would cause, I mean - " Harry paled at this " - but the kind that could get her kicked out of school. I mean . . . I don't know. Hermione, do you think you could talk to her for me?"
Hermione nodded, and her sympathy was obvious in her face, when she turned back to Harry and gave him that Look again, the Look that said, "I know you want to get randy with Ginny but if you do, so help me Merlin I will hex you because Ron does NOT need that on top of everything else right now. Do not talk to her until I can get a chance to or I will castrate you."
At the Burrow, the Weasely matron was in the kitchen, sorting out the vegetables that were still left from the summer garden, trying to divide those that were still good and those that, despite the spells placed on them, had gone bad, when a large barn owl flew into the window and fell backwards onto the dead grass outside.
"Silly thing," she chided absentmindedly, stepping outside to retrieve the bird. She dusted off the dirt and snow that had gathered on it, and it ruffled its feathers indignantly. She brought the owl inside the house, taking the letter it had brought. Before turning her attention back to the vegetables that still needed sorting, she opened the letter.
Dear mum,
Ginny is an angel.
-- Your loving sons, Fred and George
Hermione didn't find a chance to talk to Ginny until later that evening, when she found her in the library sleeping over a pile of books. For a moment, she hadn't wanted to disturb her, but then she decided that if she didn't get it out of the way now then by the time they later tried to settle the dust that the youngest Weasely was kicking up then they could find themselves facing a hopeless battle. She shook her gently on the shoulder, and Ginny suddenly snapped to attention.
"Chubby bunnies!" Ginny yelled out. "Fifty-eight of them," she added, then she looked and saw Hermione and calmed down a bit.
The older girl smiled warmly. "Hullo, Gin," she said, sitting down at the table across from her, "how have you been?"
"Don't mind my rudeness, and I mean this in the nicest way possible, but cut the crap, Hermione."
Hermione nodded; she hadn't expected anything less. She sighed, looking down at her hands that were resting palm down on the table, and began, "Ron is going mad, you know." When Ginny nodded, she added, "and frankly, I'm not too happy about this either."
The redhead shrugged and leaned back. "It's funny?" she offered. Upon reflection, she found that she herself wasn't too happy about it anymore. It has lost its appeal back around the second week or so.
"But Ginny, why are you doing this, anyway? Was it a bet or something? Seriously, why?"
Ginny began to reply but stopped. She hadn't really thought about it, but she didn't actually have a good reason to keep going. She and Mandy and Rose had made the list to get a laugh while simultaneously getting back at their most loathed teacher, but now that it wasn't as fun anymore, what was holding her to it? Why shouldn't she just stop? "Well, honestly Herm, I don't know. Maybe I take after Fred and George just a bit more than you all realized?"
"Do you plan on finishing the list?"
"Yes."
Hermione placed her hands on her lap underneath the table. "I'm not going to force you to stop, but I strongly advise against it. Who knows the kind of trouble you might find yourself in next week, or the week after?" Ginny shrugged, and her friend continued, "Now, I told Ron I'd talk to you about this, and I have. But what I'm interested in is what's going on with you and Harry."
The younger girl looked up at her, then quickly looked away. She was sure her face was burning when the memory of their last encounter, behind the statue of Vincent the Vile, resurfaced. She and Harry had agreed to keep it quiet for as long as it took for this whole "Bothering Snape" thing had blown over, and while they hadn't made any very distinct developments in their relationship, Ron was not likely to appreciate the intimate situations they'd gotten themselves in.
"Are you two together now? I mean, come on, Ginny, it's not that hard to figure out even if you both didn't disappear and reappear at the same time so often. The only reason Ron can't tell, and I'm sure you know this, Gin, is because of his 'condition.' Has he, I mean Harry, asked you out?"
Ginny shook her head. "We want to go slow."
Hermione scoffed. "Pretty slow, I can tell. Don't tell me, Ginny. Friends with benefits?"
If she hadn't known that Hermione wouldn't come to such a rash conlucion for no other reason than just to corner her into a confession, Ginny might have gotten mad. As it was, she was, to a small degree, insulted and slightly hurt. "Don't say it like that, Herm."
Her older friend's expression softened, but she didn't give in too easily. "Just don't do anything stupid. I don't want either of you to be hurt."
Severus Snape existed in a stage of advanced misanthropy, and among the things he hated most were happy children, sunshine, Ginny Weasely, and cliches. Despite the bile and the violent tendencies that arose in him at the hint of any of these things, namely the cliches, he would be the first to admit that he was in a bit of a pickle.
What he had said to the insolent girl was true; he had no desire to be in her company any longer than was necessary. If he never saw her again, he would have absolutely no compunctions or regrets about it, and indeed no interest in what had happened, only a deep, respounding joy that she would be forever out of his hair (However dank and moldy a place that might be). He had assigned her mounds of excess homework, had been stricter and harsher on her than even Harry Potter, and still she would not let up. Every day seemed to bring new torments and he was beginning to have doubts that, if it kept up much longer, his sanity would be intact by the end of the year.
He was just about to get out his stress buddy and his toilet reader when the door to his office was slammed open and a very angry, very blonde Lucius Malfoy stormed into the room. Snape had to try very hard not to stand up and use brute force to get the man out, but he didn't want anymore trouble than was necessary. He didn't want to deal with anything more than he already had to.
"Severus! Severus, what is this I hear about that mudblood fouling our family name with talk of - shall I say, SORDID affairs? Affairs that have never taken place?" Before Snape could reply, Lucius continued, "I won't stand for it! I will not stand for any besmudging of my ancestry! To even suggest that I or my son would DO something like that . .. it's preposterous! Unthinkable!"
Snape sat calmly in his chair, stress buddy in one hand and toilet reader in the other, and waited through the hailstorm of spit and curses, wanting nothing more than to dig a hole and sit in there with the stress buddy (Which he had named Rae Dawn Chong), his toilet reader, and a frying pan to fend off anyone that dared to bother him.
"Well, Severus? What should we do about it? We can't let this go on. We - I - can't let this continue on."
Snape looked Lucius straight in the eye and said, "Ginny Weasely never said anything of the sort."
Lucius looked dumbfounded, his face blotchy and red and his hair messed up. He stood up straight, trying to regain his composure, and narrowed his eyes disbelievingly. "What?"
"I told you. Miss Weasely has been engaging in childish play for the last few weeks, but it's nothing I cannot deal with on my own, and she never said anything of the sort. Now, do be kind and get out of my office before I am forced to throw a frying pan at you."