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Chapter 6: The Questionable Visitor

"No. Absolutely not."

George put his hands on his hips. "Now, Ronny, we agreed to this-"

"No, you agreed to this." Ron glared at his brother. "I said nothing involving this."

A theatrical sigh escaped George's lips as he took on a wounded expression. "Don't you trust me, Ronald?"

Ron sputtered. "Not at all."

"Ah, oh well." George waved a dismissive hand. "What matters now is getting you to do this."

"No." Ron said vehemently. "No way."

George turned a pleading gaze in Harry's direction. "Harry, old chap, don't you think this is a good idea?"

Harry grinned, looking up from the book he was reading; Quidditch Through the Ages. "I think you should do it, Ron."

Ron gaped at him as George let out a triumphant noise. "Harry!"

He looked innocently up. "What?"

"You're supposed to be on my side!"

"Ah, the rewards of bribery!" George said. "Let's get on with the plan, shall we?"

Ron struggled to find an excuse. "You…you're not…you can't…GEORGE!"

It had been almost a week since Hermione had brushed Ron off that day of the wedding preparations, and since hearing the coldness straight from her voice, Ron had just about given up all hope when George came swooping back with a plan. An idiotic, over the top, extravagant plan that Ron was not going to go along with.

"Now," George said, clapping his hands and rubbing them together. He looked as gleeful as when he and Fred had flown out of Hogwarts on their broomsticks. "The first thing to do is find out where Hermione will be tomorrow morning at six o'clock."

"Probably sleeping like normal people do." Ron said loudly.

Both Harry and George ignored him; Harry had set his book down and was now listening to every word.

"Now," George pulled a sheet of parchment and a quill from the dragonskin bag he had at his feet and began writing.

"Step one…"

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Ron peered around the corner of Hermione's room and swallowed hard. The books clutched in his hand were heavy and thick, but that was nothing compared to the heaviness in Ron's heart. This had to work. It had to.

The room was empty. Ron glanced around the hallway quickly once more, then slipped inside. He set the books hastily down on Hermione's desk along with a small piece of parchment with "To Miss Hermione Granger" scrawled in a loopy script on it.

He hurried out of the room as fast as he had come, for fear that the girl in question might decide to Apparate unexpectedly into her room. His mind working at what could have been the consequences of Hermione Granger finding him in her room, Ron made his way back downstairs and into the living room, where George and Harry were talking animatedly about a new product George had developed for Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes.

"-it's really quite something. I mean, anything that can make your fingers turn into giant sausages has gotta be pretty amazing, but I'm quite pleased with the way this one turned out."

Harry roared with laughter. "I'm going to have to get some of those. Use them on…well, hmm? Now who would I use them on?"

"That little Malfoy git?" George asked as Ron collapsed on the couch beside him, but Harry shook his head, looking thoughtful.

"Malfoy and I…" he said slowly. "We have an…understanding."

"I still say he's a slimy toad." Ron said, and George slung an arm around his shoulders, rumpling his hair with his fist. "OUCH, GEORGE!"

"Did you put them in her room?" Harry asked, and Ron nodded through George's headlock.

"On her desk, where she'll be bound to notice them." He said. "Now, where was the next spot again?"

"Well, once she sees the books and reads the note, the she'll know that it says she has to go to the wood shed out back." George said, finally relenting and letting go of Ron's head. "And out there are some fancy new quills that you said she'd like-"

"Courtesy of Ginny." Harry supplied, and George nodded and held up his hand, ticking off his fingers as he went.

"-then, after the quills, we've got the Honeyduke's chocolate, and then the fancy collar for Crookshanks, then the butterbeer in the kitchen, and the planner in the living room, and then we've finally got the lead out into the garden with the scented candles-"

"-where Ron will be waiting on Friday night with a romantic dinner." Harry finished, grinning. "We've got it all worked out that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley are going to go out for dinner that night, thanks to Ginny's brilliance, and Bill and Fleur are going to cook dinner, because really, Fleur is a phenomenal cook."

"And there'll be candles and moonlight and flowers and all sorts of natty girly things…" George closed his eyes and pretended to be dancing. "And soft, flippy music and a table set for two…"

Ron was blushing furiously. "All right, all right, I get it. It's all set."

George wagged a finger in his brother's face. "And who said this plan would work?"

"It hasn't worked yet." Ron grumbled, propping his feet up on the table.

"What hasn't worked yet?" Ginny asked as she walked into the room, followed by Hermione.

Ron immediately dropped his feet and sat up, his face turning a bright shade of red. "Uh…" he said, casting a wild look at Harry and George.

"My new invention." George said smoothly. "I still haven't figured out how well it works."

"You have a new invention?" Hermione asked interestedly, and the four other people in the room stared at her.

"What?" she said irritably.

"Wow, Hermione." George said. "This is like, the first time in two months that you've had your nose out of a book."

She blushed. "I've noticed things, thank you. Just because I'm reading doesn't mean that I'm not paying attention."

Ron opened his mouth to say something, but at that moment Bill came ambling through the doorway.

"Hey," he said, an odd expression on his long-scarred face. "Er…there's going to be a visitor coming any minute now through the Floo network in here, so don't be surprised, okay?"

"A visitor?" asked Harry as the Weasleys and Hermione looked around at each other in confusion. "Who is it?"

Bill shifted from one foot to the other. "Ah…well, I think you'd better find out for yourself."

There was a rushing sound and everyone turned to the fireplace. The flames had turned a vivid emerald color and were twisting and swirling, and then, all of a sudden, there was a cloud of smoke and someone was forming in the fire. A tall, thin figure stepped out of the fireplace, brushing soot off of his impeccably cleaned robes.

Ron felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him. He stared at the person in front of him, managing to say only a single name.

"Malfoy?!"