Romancing the Sorcerer's Stone

Chapter 16: Silver Stars

Ginny sits in the parlor of their London flat, drinking tea with Harry. It's unusual for him to be home for tea, and she wishes she had more pleasant topics to discuss, instead of the folder of papers her mother had thrust into her arms the other day.

She's tried to explain that Harry has no interest in the details of the wedding, any more than he had the first time, but her mother had insisted and Ginny has yet to find the strength to stand up to her mother when she insists.

Harry is leaning in to take the folder, humoring her, when the owl taps at the window.

She sighs as he jumps up, nearly sloshing tea onto the papers in his hurry to let it in before she jerks them away. He opens the note and begins to read, absently pointing his wand toward the owl treats to summon one, just as Malfoy bursts into the room. Breezy is right behind him, wringing her hands and squeaking that "Master Potter must not be disturbed!"

Ginny sighs. She'd hoped those instructions would give her time to talk to Harry but, well.

"It's fine, Breezy," she says, exasperated. "He's here now."

"Potter!" Malfoy exclaims, striding to his side and completely ignoring Ginny. "What are you doing?"

Harry looks up, frowning. "Reading your note? That is what one does with notes, you know. Read them."

There was a time, not so very long ago, Ginny thinks, that that tone from Malfoy would have sent Harry into a froth of anger. A lot has changed, these past three years.

"Yes, yes," Malfoy says impatiently, "I can see that. Why aren't you packed? For that matter, why are you reading it now?" The owl hoots impatiently for her treat, and Malfoy slaps his hand to his forehead. "It didn't just get here?"

Harry shrugs, mouth twisting in wry amusement. "'Fraid so."

Malfoy groans. "Bloody post owls get slower every week. Merlin, Potter, we've got to go. We'll miss it?"

"Miss what?"

Malfoy sighs theatrically. "Read the damn note and you'll find out, won't you? I'll just grab your things — no, Ginevra, don't get up — do you still keep a spare bag in your closet?"

"Yeah," Harry waves him off, already engrossed once more. "Missing a few things, though. Grab an extra shirt, will you? Er, pants, too."

Ginny can hear muttered grumbling issuing from their room, and then:

"Where the devil are your dress socks, Potter?"

"They're not in the drawer?" Harry still hasn't looked up from the note, and there's a decided crease between his eyebrows. He's thinking about something, Ginny knows, and not where the socks are.

"If they were in the drawer, I wouldn't be asking, now would I?" Malfoy asks acerbically.

"Try the basket!" Harry calls back, "It's on—"

"Found 'em!"

Ginny watches the exchange incredulously, rolling her eyes so hard it actually hurts. They've both forgotten she's there, apparently, and it stings a bit. She clears her throat.

"Harry..."

"Not now, Gin." He waves her off, scanning through the note a second time.

She subsides, glaring fiercely, but her patience is running dangerously low. A few minutes later, she tries again, half-rising to wave the folder under his nose.

"Harry. I really need you to—"

Malfoy strides back into the room, Harry's battered suitcase in hand, speaking before he's even through the door.

"I grabbed your dress jacket too — might come in handy on this trip. We really have got to do something about your wardrobe, Potter, it's a bloody menace. Remind me to take you shopping when we get back to London."

Ginny huffs in annoyance, because really, this is too much, and he turns to mutter a distracted "Pardon me, Ginevra," at her as he sits on the couch beside her, forcing her to scoot over. He spreads a map out on the table, pushing aside the plates of biscuits and knocking the folder of wedding notes onto the floor. He doesn't even glance at it.

"Look," he says, and it rankles that all it takes is that one word from him and Harry does just that.

He gasps. "Is that—"

Malfoy shoots him a grin. "Yes. Finally. Which is why we really do have to go."

They grin at one another for a moment, then Harry turns an apologetic smile on her.

"Sorry, Gin. Gotta run."

"But, Harry..."

He leans down and kisses her forehead distractedly. "Do whatever you want. I've authorized you to access my vault — the goblins shouldn't give you any trouble. I'll be back..."

He turns to Malfoy. "When will we be back?"

Malfoy shrugs. "Depends on how long it takes, I suppose."

And with a shrug and a quick wave from Harry, Malfoy snatches up the map, shoves Harry's bag into his hands, and they're gone.

Ginny sighs and bends down to pick up the papers that are now scattered across the floor.

The owl hoots again, and she stops to fetch it a couple owl treats and pet its head for a moment. Poor neglected thing. It seems as lonely as she is.

When it flies away, she turns back to the scattered papers. Most are in her mother's neat handwriting, but there's one on top in an elegant hand she doesn't recognize.

She picks it up, frowning, and realizes that it's the note Harry was reading when Malfoy arrived. He must have dropped it once Malfoy pulled out the map. She should just throw it out, or maybe burn it — she knows their job can be dangerous — but she bites her lip, curious. Surely it couldn't hurt to read it? Harry had just left it lying there, after all.

Potter—

I've a lead on the painting. Pack a suit of decent clothes, if you have them. Muggle. The gray dress jacket should do nicely. I'll be by to collect you shortly.

—M