Harry Potter - Fanfiction

Year 4 - Too Blind For Romance

Neither Mr. Weasley nor Percy are at home much over the following week. Both leave the house each morning before the rest of the family gets up and return well after dinner every night.

"It's been an absolute uproar," Percy tells us importantly the Sunday evening before we are due to return to Hogwarts. "I've been putting out fires all week. People keep sending Howlers, and of course, if you don't open a Howler straight away, it explodes. Scorch marks all over my desk and my best quill reduced to cinders."

He literally has been putting out fires then I chuckle to myself before returning my attention to George and Fred.

Ginny is mending her copy of One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi with Spellotape on the rug in front of the living room fire.

Mrs. Weasley is glancing at the grandfather clock in the corner. It is a very smart creation, indeed; it's completely useless for telling the time, but otherwise very informative. It has nine golden hands and each of them is engraved with one of the Weasley family's names. There are no numerals around the face, but descriptions of where each family member might be. 'Home,' 'school,' and 'work' are there, but there is also 'travelling,' 'lost,' 'hospital,' 'prison,' and in the position where the number twelve would be on a normal clock is 'mortal peril.'

Eight of the hands are currently pointing to the 'home' position, but Mr. Weasley's which is the longest, is still pointing to 'work'. Mrs. Weasley sighs.

Bill and Ron are playing wizards chess, while rain lashes against the living room window.

Hermione is immersed in The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4, copies of which Mrs. Weasley has bought for her, Harry, Ron, and me in Diagon alley. Charlie is darning a fireproof balaclava. Harry is polishing his Firebolt, the broomstick servicing kit Hermione had given him for his thirteenth birthday open at his feet.

Fred, George, and I are sitting in a far corner, quills out, talking in whispers, our heads bent over a piece of parchment. Brainstorming for our new order forms that we plan to start handing out at school.

"No shouldn't we make these 7 sickles?" asks Fred.

"That seems rather excessive, how about 20 Knuts or 1 sickle?" I counter.

"What are you three up to?" Mrs. Weasley asks sharply, her eyes on us.

"Homework," says Fred vaguely.

"Don't be ridiculous, you're still on holiday," says Mrs. Weasley.

"Yeah, we've left it a bit late," says George.

Mrs. Weasley looks accusingly over to me.

"You're not by any chance writing out a new order form, are you?" Mrs. Weasley asks shrewdly. Gazing over all three of us she continues, "you wouldn't be thinking of restarting Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, by any chance?"

"Now, Mum," says Fred, looking up at her, a pained look on his face. "If the Hogwarts Express crashes tomorrow, and George and I die, how would you feel to know that the last thing we ever heard from you was an unfounded accusation?"

Everyone laughs, even Mrs. Weasley surprisingly. Fred knows how to play at her heart strings, especially now after she was so worried that harm had come to them with what happened at the World Cup.

"Oh, your father's coming!" she says suddenly, looking up at the clock again.

Mr. Weasley's hand has suddenly spun from 'work' to 'travelling'; a second later it shudders to a halt on 'home' with the others, and we hear him calling from the kitchen.

"Coming Arthur!" calls Mrs. Weasley, hurrying out of the room.

A few moments later, Mr. Weasley comes into the warm living room carrying his dinner on a tray. He looks completely exhausted.

"Well, the fats really in the fire now," he tells Mrs. Weasley as he sits down in an armchair near the hearth and toys unenthusiastically with his somewhat shriveled cauliflower. "Rita Skeeter's been ferreting around all week, looking for more Ministry mess-ups to report. And now she's found out about poor old Bertha going missing, so that'll be the headline in the Prophet tomorrow. I told Bagman he should have sent someone to look for her ages ago."

I feel a quill being jabbed into the skin of my hand. Turning back around I see George and Fred looking at me with expectant smiles.

"Sorry," I whisper, bringing my attention back to our order forms.

But we don't get very far after that when Mrs. Weasley chases us all upstairs, due to an argument breaking out between Percy and Hermione regarding the mistreatment of house-elves, so that we can finish packing for the new year.

    

I walk into Ginny's room a little while later after quickly discussing some last-minute details with the twins, before Mrs. Weasley catches me. Ginny and Hermione already busy with their trunks.

I look over to mine, still empty... Styx sprawled out over my newly washed clothes that Mrs. Weasley packed on my camp bed.

I sigh heavily, not knowing where to start packing.

"Our forms state formal attire for this year," Hermione pipes up next to me. "I wander what social events we will be attending."

"You're lucky, I wish I could join," groans Ginny.

"Did Mrs. Weasley buy us dresses as well while she was out?" I ask looking over to Hermione.

"Yes, she has very good taste. I saw your dress too," she answers with a smile. "Will you be going with Malfoy?" my sister asks curiously with a slight tone of loathsome in her voice at the mention of Draco.

"What? You're into that git?" Ginny scrunches up her nose.

"Firstly, Ginny, that is none of your business, but I'm not into anyone. And secondly, sister, that is also none of your business either. But," I begin with a smile, "what I do know is that at least I will have someone that has the guts to ask me to go with them, whereas if you have to wait for Ron, you'll wait forever."

"Ron!" Ginny says with a squeak.

"I... I don't know what you are talking about. Don't be daft. Ron!" Hermione snorts with a grin as she turns multiple shades of pink. Turning around and carrying on with her trunk to hide her face.

I grab another pile of clothes stuffing it into my trunk. "And Ginny, same goes to you with Harry. Those two are clueless gits when it comes to romance," I continue with a wide grin.

Ginny now also turning shades of red, turns her attention to her trunk as well.

"My sister is clearly being delirious," says Hermione as she turns to Ginny and then me. "When you yourself, Nyx, can't see what's right in front of you."

"If you're talking about me and Draco," I scoff. "You're the one that's delusional. And he would have told me straight if he saw me more than a friend."

"I wouldn't be so sure. Especially when his family despises our bloodline, our very existence," Hermione says sternly.

"And I think George has a thing for you too," Ginny grins. "He's a lot giddier when you're around or when he talks about you. And I heard him and Fred talking the one day about you, they were deciding which one of them will step back and the other will be allowed to go after you."

Now that will explain why the previous term at Hogwarts Fred became a lot more distant with me compared to the other years. And why George was sometimes the only one with me while Fred was always off with Lee Jordan; he was respecting the decision that they agreed upon.

"What no! You guys are just turning this on me now because you know I'm right," I chuckle, they are mental. There definitely isn't anything going on with either of the two boys. They are just grasping at straws, and I can't believe I almost started considering their stories to be true.

"Right, we'll see who has the last laugh," answers Hermione as she and Ginny join in with the laughter.

       

Year 4 - Too Blind For Romance ~ End