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Ginny Potter - A Harry Potter Fanfiction Archive and Community -- Fictioneer
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HP stories following Canon but PRE-OotP >> Starry Night and Racoon Bite by AgiVega

Simple Text - To view MORE chapters use the chapter jump box to the right.
Disclaimer: the Harry Potter world belongs to J. K. Rowling, I’m just having fun with her wonderful characters.





A/N: this story is an outtake from my long fic, The Greatest Scandal in Hogwarts History. However, I made sure that you’d understand this one even if you haven’t read that one.

Warning: this story contains some mild sex, hence the R-rating. I tried to keep the adult themes to a minimum and concentrated on the character’s thoughts rather than on the description of the act. According to my betas I managed it pretty well, I hope you’ll think the same :)



I’d like to say thanks to my betas: mum, Diane and Sienn. You’re great, girls!







STARRY NIGHT AND RACOON BITE



by AgiVega







Be my love, for no one else

can end this yearning,

This need that you and you alone create,

Just fill my arms,

the way you fill my dreams,

The dreams that you inspire

with every sweet desire



/Mario Lanza: Be my love/







The 20th June, 1998 was a special day for every student of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and an even more special day for my sister, Ginny. She became a mother that day. In fact she was the first ever student to give birth at Hogwarts, so no wonder that it brought about the greatest scandal in Hogwarts history…

As she was holding her little daughter and the baby snuggled her red-haired head into the crook of her arm, I felt something indescribable. Something so warm and delighting that I couldn’t find words for it. Lily wasn’t even my child, but I felt as though she were. I fell in love with my little niece the first time I saw her.

“She’s the most beautiful little girl I’ve ever seen,” Hermione said, smiling.

“Yeah, a real Weasley!” I added proudly, reaching out with my index finger that the baby caught instinctively with her tiny hand.

“A real Potter, you mean,” my sister corrected me.

“Um, Gin… sorry to remind you, but… as long as Harry and you aren’t married, Lily is a Weasley, not a Potter,” Hermione commented.

Gin nodded with a sad little smile and suppressed a sigh. I knew what she was thinking: if only Harry had been here for her now! If only Harry could see his first-born child! But no, Harry wasn’t here. And no one knew where he was… he got lost and not even the owls could find him…

As though the baby had somehow sensed her mother’s grief, she let go of my finger and grabbed Ginny’s nightdress.

“She’s trying to console me,” my sister whispered, gazing adoringly at this little miracle in her arms. Lily opened her eyes and flashed her mother an emerald-green stare. Strange, babies usually have blue eyes when they are born, but my little niece’s were green from the second on she arrived at the world. Although I couldn’t read minds, I knew what my sister was feeling when her daughter looked at her like that: she felt her sadness vanish like snow that melts if exposed to sunrays. Lily was the Sun that provided warmth and light in the night of Ginny’s life… ever since Harry had left, Ginny felt like being in constant darkness and cold… but this baby changed everything.

“You’re beaming, sis,” I remarked.

“I’m happy, Ron,” she replied. “If only Harry could share my joy!”

“He’ll come back to you,” Hermione said with an encouraging smile.

“Yes… I believe that he will,” Gin nodded, then her solemn expression changed into that of a little imp. “Ronnie, I’ve just realised… I’ve won the bet.”

“What?” I blinked in surprise. I pretended to have forgotten our little bet… Months ago I had bet that the child would be a boy, while Ginny had insisted that she was carrying a girl. Ginny had promised me to keep her mouth shut to Hermione about a certain ‘accident’ of mine if I won the bet, and I had promised to give Ginny Pigwidgeon if I lost the bet. And well, I had lost the bet… that could only mean that… uh-oh…



* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *



I remember a certain day back in February as clearly as though it had been yesterday. I woke up in a rather good mood and joined Ginny and Hermione at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall. Ginny seemed to be a bit giggly about something, but I didn’t feel like asking what it was… it must have been because of the baby. Her baby had moved two days earlier for the first time, and she couldn’t talk about anything else since then. She even made me feel her belly. It was somehow… awkward. So that day I decided not to ask her whether her baby had been kicking again, because I didn’t feel like letting the Slytherins spot me when I was touching my sister’s belly. Even without Malfoy around, the Slytherins could turn nasty enough…

So, instead of talking to the madly grinning Ginny, I turned to Hermione.

“Hullo, Herm,” I said.

“Good morning, Ron,” she replied coldly. She didn’t even look up from the book she was reading. As though she were mad at me for some reason… but why? I had no idea.

We had breakfast, then headed for Potions.

Strangely to me, this day every girl seemed to be giggly, not only my sister. Pansy Parkinson, for example, kept shooting Snape funny glances and seemed to be struggling to stifle her laughter. But why on Earth did she feel like chuckling? And why would anyone look at Snape like that? - I asked myself. The answer to my question arrived in the form of an owl about halfway though the lesson.

The owl was lucky enough to find the dungeon-door slightly ajar, so it could fly through it and drop a letter on the Potions Master’s head.

Everyone’s eyes focused on the letter that was… pink?

Parvati and Lavender were pressing their hands hard on their mouths to hide their amusement, but Dean didn’t even try to conceal it. He was leaning over his cauldron and chortling into his potion, while Seamus tried to make his laughter sound like coughs – though it wasn’t too convincing.

I glanced at Pansy again, whose face was now ruby red and radiated anticipation.

“What is this supposed to be?” Snape asked, pointing at the pink envelope.

No one replied.

Snape stepped forward, advancing menacingly on Neville, who was unfortunate enough to be standing the closest to his desk.

“If the others are unwilling to answer, then maybe you, Longbottom,” the Professor growled.

“M…meeee?” Neville stuttered.

“What do you think this is?” Snape flourished the envelope before poor Neville’s eyes.

“I… I… believe… this is a… Valentine?” Neville said, looking like someone who’d faint any second.

“A Valentine? For him?” I breathed, a bit louder than I should have. When I realised that I spoke too loudly, everyone was looking at me, Snape included.

I never got to know for sure who had sent that Valentine to the professor, but I still suspect it to be that idiot Pansy. That girl had always been crazy, so why couldn’t she have had something for Snape?

When I returned to Gryffindor Tower after having cleaned every damned suit of armour in the castle and having called Snape all kinds of names I could think of, I found only Ginny in the common room. She was reading a book called ‘A young witch’s guide to motherhood’.

“You look rough,” she said as she looked up from her book.

“’Course I do,” I barked at her and dropped into a chair by the fire. “I cleaned 259 suits of armour and 174 coats of arms. I can’t feel my hands any more.”

“You deserved it,” she said.

“What? I just said that it was um… strange that Snape should get a Valentine. I know I was stupid, I should have kept my voice low, then he wouldn’t have heard me and wouldn’t have given me detention, but…”

“It’s not what I meant,” Ginny shook her head. “You deserved it because you’ve forgotten about Valentine’s Day.”

“And?” I frowned.

“You’ve forgotten about Hermione!” she said accusingly.

“What?” I blinked as it started to sink in. It was Valentine’s Day. The day of the lovers. And I forgot about it.

So, that’s why Hermione was so cold towards me?

It must be the reason… oh, Ron, you prat! I felt like kicking myself.

“Bugger,” I sighed. “Is she very mad at me?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if she were,” Ginny shrugged, returning her attention to her book.

“Do you think… that I could somehow… make it up for to, eh?”

“Well, I think you should at least try. She’s in the library.”

“Hey, thanks, sis,” I grinned at her and headed upstairs to the boys’ dormitory.

“I said she was in the library,” Ginny called after me.

“I know,” I smirked, “but I need something from Harry’s trunk.”





“Guess who?” I sneaked up to Hermione from behind and covered her eyes with my hands.

“Don’t be so childish, Ron,” she grunted and tossed my hands away.

“I’m not childish,” I replied and sat down next to her.

“Oh, but yes, you are,” she said and continued reading. I didn’t feel like being ignored, so with a sudden thought I reached out and snapped her book shut.

“RON!” she hissed, her beautiful brown eyes gleaming with fury. “Why did you close it? I don’t know which page I was reading and it’ll take me ages to find it again!”

“Then don’t even try to find it,” I grinned. “Simply forget about these stupid books tonight.”

“Why?”

“Because I have a better idea how to spend this evening.”

She gave me a curious stare. “And what is that?”

“Come with me and you’ll see,” I winked at her, and grabbing her hand, I jerked her off her seat. Before she could protest, I pulled her out of the library.





“Where are you taking me?” Hermione asked as I hauled her downstairs, into a certain room that we hadn’t been in ever since our first day at Hogwarts. It seemed that Hermione was cottoning on when she spotted several little boats moored in their underground harbour.

“You… you aren’t… planning to… take us for a boat trip?” she spluttered. “It’s only 2° Celsius, the water’s almost freezing, and…”

“…who told you we had to swim in it?” I asked. “Anyway, I sort of remember one bossy, bushy-haired witch teaching me a heating charm… don’t you know her by any chance?”

She crossed her arms, sizing me up with a peculiar glance that suggested that she was both touched by the recognition that I had finally realised what day it was, and also that she was taking me for a complete fool.

“Now come on, Herm, it’ll be fun!”

“But… what if we’ll get caught?” she started chewing her lower lip and looked so endearing that I felt my heart melt.

“We won’t,” I replied, pulling Harry’s invisibility cloak out of my robes. “We’ll just put this on ourselves, and even if someone spots the boat, they’ll think that it got somehow swept away…”

“…out from its harbour?” she raised an eyebrow. “Not a too likely tale, Ron.”

I stepped closer to her and cupped her chin, making her look directly into my eyes. “Don’t be such a spoilsport, Herm. Not tonight, it’s Valentine’s Day.”

She screwed up her face, clearly weighing the pros and cons, and finally nodded. “All right, then. But let’s accomplish that heating charm, okay? I don’t want to freeze to death.”

“Calor,” I said, pointing my wand at her, and she repeated the charm on me, then we both climbed into a boat and covered ourselves with the cloak.

I reached for the oars that – as far as I remembered – hadn’t been used when Hagrid guided us across the lake in our first year. Back then the boats had been magically propelled forward, but it seemed that the Hogwarts staff had been cautious enough to equip them with oars as well, in case something went wrong with the propelling charms.

Now that the boats were disused, their charms were ‘switched off’, so I just had to row. I soon realised that rowing wasn’t an easy task, especially after having cleaned 259 suits of armour and 174 coats of arms. My muscles were screaming, but I bit my tongue and tried with all my might not to wince.

“Wouldn’t it be easier if we just used magic to get it going?” Hermione asked, her voice still full of scepticism about our little trip.

“Nay, I can do it,” I protested and felt relieved that she couldn’t see my suffering face in the darkness of the tunnel.

“If you say so,” she shrugged as we reached the curtain of ivy that separated the tunnel from the lake.





“Beautiful,” Hermione said after about five minutes of silent rowing.

“Huh?” was all I managed without wailing over my aching muscles. Damn Professor Snape and his pink Valentine!

“Look at the sky!” she pointed upwards.

It was a clear February night, and with no Muggle street lamps around, the view was perfect. The sight of the infinite black velvet sky sprinkled with small diamonds of stars was simply enthralling.

Suddenly I felt two arms sneaking around my waist and a bushy head snuggle itself to my neck. Hermione’s breath felt pleasantly warm on my skin, although I wasn’t cold, thanks to the heating charm.

“Thank you, Ron,” she whispered. “This is really a wonderful Valentine’s Day’s gift… to watch the stars from the lake where no one can disturb us… just you and me, and all the stars are ours.”

“Yes, they are,” I agreed. “I hoped you’d like it.”

“Oh, yes I do. Very much. Why don’t we choose a star for ourselves?”

“Choose a star?” I asked. “Er, okay. You start. Which one do you choose?”

“Well…” she looked up to examine the sky. “I kind of like Castor and Pollux, but Betelgeuse, Rigel and Bellatrix are also really nice… not to mention Sirius…”

“Sirius?” I blinked, feeling rather stupid.

“Sirius, the alpha star of Canis Major, Ron,” Hermione said in her usual know-it-all voice. “We learned about it back in first year.” She said this with the air of Professor Sinistra who had just noticed that I hadn’t been listening to her words at a single Astronomy class.

“Aha… so, Sirius’s named after that star,” I muttered, feeling embarrassed. I had wanted to spend a nice evening with my lady, and instead I got humiliated. Stupid, stupid me, why didn’t I pay better attention at Astronomy? “Er, so… you’d choose Sirius?”

“Yeah, perhaps,” Hermione nodded. I just knew she was disappointed in me, because of my ignorance. Oh, holy Snitches, why did she have to be such a smart-aleck? Why couldn’t she be a simple girl with average knowledge? But… if she had been a simple girl, I probably wouldn’t have fallen in love with her, now, would I?

“I suppose I’ll choose one of those,” I pointed at a cluster of stars.

“The Pleiades?” she asked.

“Uhum…” I replied, wishing I knew what the heck the Pleiades were. From next week on, I’ll pay attention at Astronomy, I swore. “Or rather… that W over there.”

“W?” Hermione sniggered. “You mean Cassiopeia.”

“If you say so,” I shrugged. “Cassiuspea, yeah…”

Now she was chuckling uncontrollably. “Cas-si-o-pei-a. You know, the mythological queen, wife of King Cepheus. She was so stuck-up that she claimed to be the most beautiful woman in the world. Of course Poseidon got mad at her and sent a bloodthirsty whale to ruin her kingdom with a tidal wave. The only way she could save her land was to sacrifice her daughter Andromeda. But Andromeda got saved by Perseus. All the five of them: Cepheus, Cassiopeia, Andromeda, Perseus and Cetus the whale got a constellation named after them.”

I caught myself gawping at her. “You read too much, Hermione. Really too much. Anyway, Queen Cassio… whatever her name is, wasn’t right.”

“What do you mean?” she frowned at me. Although it was past nine o’clock and all the light we had was the star-shine from above, I was sure that she was frowning. No one could frown as sweetly as my Hermione…

“What do I mean?” I slipped a hand around her waist (it was a hard task, considering that even such a small movement made my arm ache like hell). “Well… she said she was the most beautiful woman in the world. But she couldn’t have been the most beautiful… ‘cause that’s you.”

Though I still couldn’t really make out her features, I was sure that she was grinning. She turned her head away a bit, probably to hide her blush. She must have forgotten that it was too dark for me to see her rosy complexion.

“Me?” she whispered. “Come on, Ron… me? Little Miss Bushy-head?”

“Uhum… because little Miss Bushy-head is the most charming person I know… and I hadn’t realised it until that memorable Yule ball.”

She giggled. “Yeah, the Yule ball… one could have scrambled eggs on your face, it was burning so much when you spotted me with Viktor…”

“…and I take it you were enjoying it, eh?”

“Of course I was,” she smirked impishly. “But Ron… that was three years ago. Took you long enough to declare your love to me.”

“Yeah, I s’pose so…” it was my turn to blush. She was right: I had been in love with her since our fourth year, and I couldn’t screw up my courage to tell her until last November. “I was really stupid, wasn’t I? We lost three years, Herm.”

“We did… but we can still make up for them,” she slipped even closer to me, so close that I could barely breath… but heck, did I want to breath when she was in my arms? Perhaps not… so I did the only thing that seemed acceptable in this situation: I kissed her hard on the lips. She responded eagerly to the attack of my lips, her tongue gently seeking admission, and well, what could I do? I let it enter my mouth.

As our tongues duelled, I felt a tug at my belt.

“Uhhh… Heeerm…” was all I managed to utter, because she closed my lips with another kiss. I felt that she was pulling me down with herself into the bottom of the boat and trying to push my robes off my shoulder… with a sudden thought I pulled back, gasping for breath. “I’m… I’m not sure about this…” I muttered.

“Why?” she asked matter-of-factly, her hands releasing my robes that she had managed to push down to my waist.

“Because… uh… Ginny.”

“Ginny?” she sat up, her passion vanishing at once. “Just tell me if you don’t want me, Ron, but don’t make up such silly excuses! Next time you’ll tell me that you don’t want me because of Hagrid or Malfoy.”

“No, you don’t get it…” I stuttered. “I meant Ginny… she’s… pregnant, Hermione.”

“Oh…” her eyes widened. “I see. You’re afraid I’d also get pregnant.”

“Sort of,” I grimaced. “I don’t want to get you into trouble.”

She crossed her arms and shot me a very supercilious look (as far as I could tell in the darkness). “You thought I haven’t taken care of this long ago?”

“What?” I blinked. “You mean…?”

“I’ve been drinking the KeinKind Potion since November, Ron. You know… just in case.”

“Hermione!” I breathed adoringly. I couldn’t help but adore her, really.

“So, any other objections, Mr. Weasley?”

“None, Miss Granger,” I replied and pushed her back down into the bottom of the boat and started to pull at her robes. “Ouch!”

“What?” she asked, busying herself with undoing my red-yellow Gryffindor tie.

“Er… nothing,” I replied, feeling like kicking myself. And Snape. Damn him, I couldn’t even undress my girlfriend with these hands, they were so stiff.

“Your detention, I trust?” she sat up, grinning. It couldn’t have been that dark if I saw her grin…

“Stop grinning, Hermione!” I snapped, massaging my left arm with my right hand. “It’s not funny at all!”

“Oh, but of course it is!” she chuckled. “Hey, let me do it.”

“Do what?”

As an answer she kissed me to shut me up and gently lowered me into a horizontal state again. First she took off her robes (mine had already been cast aside), then she undid my belt (making me swallow hard and tremble with anticipation). Then came her blouse, then my shirt, her skirt, my trousers, her socks, my socks (I think one of mine got thrown into the water – perhaps a grindylow is wearing it now), her bra… that was the point when I couldn’t lie there without doing something anymore, I just had to reach out and cup her… “Ouch!” That just wasn’t fair! Scrubbing those 259 suits of armour and 174 coats of arms had really ruined every single muscle in my arms, and this short rowing had topped it all. I couldn’t even move my hands.

Hermione gently pushed them back. “Don’t strain them, Ron. When we get back to the school, I’ll give you a nice pain-easing cream for your muscles… until then just lie still and let me do the work.”

“Aaaall right…” I mumbled, feeling like exploding with frustration – I couldn’t touch her, couldn’t caress her, and that was all Snape’s bloody fault! I hated Valentines and I hated Valentine’s Days… or did I? Hm… as her lips descended on my neck, leaving a wet trail down my chest, I sort of changed my mind about this. I LOOOOOOOVED Valentine’s Day! Oh, holy broomsticks, did I love it!!! I bit my tongue in order to not shout into the starry night when I felt her hand grasping me in my Chudley Cannons boxers… ooooh, that felt good. I screwed my eyes shut as she rid me of my last piece of garment and started to rub me expertly. Where on Earth did she learnt how to? Er, well, she must have read about it in a book. But did the Hogwarts library have such books at all? Perhaps the Restricted Section? I couldn’t dare imagine Hermione going for example to McGonagall and asking for a signature saying: “You see, Professor, I badly need that Wizard Kama Sutra… would you give me your permission to take this book out of the library? Yes?” And McGonagall would reply: “Well, of course, Miss Granger, just use it well on Mr. Weasley!”

I felt my face turning as red as the setting Sun when imagining McGonagall passing by me on the corridor and winking at me with an ‘I-know-what-you-did-last-night’ sort of glance.

I suddenly got shaken out of my reverie by feeling Hermione’s lips on mine again. She had stopped ‘tending’ me and was now covering my body with hers. I could feel that she was no more wearing anything… honestly. Not even one piece of clothing… how could it avoid my attention when she took off her panties? Hm… I must have been too occupied with imagining a winking Minerva… bloody hell, who cared for that old spinster when Hermione Granger was leaning over him, totally naked?

I felt I had to say something. But what? The “Hermione, you’re so beautiful!” seemed stupid now. She was beautiful, but it would have felt awkward in this situation… so what should I tell her? “Um, Hermione, when did you drop your panties? I missed it. Couldn’t you replay it for me?” Uhhh, can’t you think of anything, you idiot? – I chastised myself. I couldn’t think of anything, really. So I just kept gawking at her with my mouth agape. But somehow it seemed to be enough for her, because she smiled at me in a satisfied way.

“I take you like what you see?” she whispered.

“I can’t really see much…” I mumbled when I finally found my voice. “I wish it weren’t this dark and I could see you better… this way I can only imagine what I’d see… but I’m sure I’d like it a lot.”

“Good…” she giggled and kissed the tip of my nose, shifting her weight a bit, so that she was positioned just over my rock-hard member.

“Herm…” I gulped, knowing exactly what was coming.

“Hm?”

“I… I want you so much, but… I don’t want to… hurt you.”

She kissed me as though wanting to calm me. I felt a little stupid: I had always imagined it’d be me who’d be calming her, saying “I’ll be gentle, don’t worry”, but Hermione was Hermione, and she had a knack of taking things in hand – er… I meant that she loved taking the lead, of course. And well, in my current state all I could do was to let her take the lead. She drew back a bit, closed her eyes and started sliding down onto me, grasping my arms to support herself. I couldn’t tell which on of us winced: she, because it hurt her, or me, because she clutched too tightly at my sore arms. Probably both of us.

“Sorry,” we said in unison. For some seconds we were silent, in the next one we burst out laughing. She bent down again, catching my lips with hers, and I couldn’t restrain myself any longer, I had to hold her… with great effort I brought my hands up to her hips and held her as she straightened up and started rocking gently.

I was in heaven. I saw stars… and not the ones on the sky, but stars of pleasure, I saw them chasing each other even when I closed my eyes. Hermione’s eyes were also closed, her head thrown back, her bushy, long hair billowing around her even though there was no wind. She looked like a goddess, more beautiful than anyone I had ever seen, the stars above must have paled with envy at her sight, she was so much prettier than any of them… Queen Cassiopeia (I finally remembered her name!) must have jumped down from the sky and drowned herself into the lake in her jealousy… no one could be as perfect as my Hermione.

The little stars in my head kept chasing each other throughout our lovemaking, then suddenly they started to fall off the sky, painting streaks of gold through its blackness, exploding in a spectacular firework at the end. When the last of them dissolved into a brilliant blood-red mist, Hermione slumped onto me, panting hard.

“Did you… did you see… the fireworks?” I muttered, too exhausted to speak normally.

“Firework?” she asked, also gasping for breath. “I thought it was an explosion… the tail of an enormous blast-ended skrewt exploded before my eyes… at least that’s how it felt.”

I couldn’t help grinning. This meant that Hermione had enjoyed it just as much as I did. This meant that I was good in bed… er, good in boat… or whatever. Anyway, it was a nice start, and it’ll get even better when I’ll be able to use my hands properly.

“Um, Herm… where’s Harry’s cloak?”

The invisibility cloak must have slipped off us while we were getting at it.

“Phew, no idea!” she disentangled herself from my embrace and started looking for it in the boat. But it was way too dark to find it. “Hold on,” Hermione said, grabbed her wand, said Lumos and started to look for the cloak in its circle of light. Though my arms still ached, I hoisted myself up to stand on all fours and helped her searching for the cloak among our scattered pieces of clothing. When I started to get worried that we had let Harry’s precious cloak slide into the water in our fervour, Hermione let out a small ‘Heurekah!’

“Huh?” I asked.

“I’ve found it,” she replied.

“Then what exactly did you say?”

“I said heurekah. It’s Greek for ‘I’ve found it’, don’t tell me that you haven’t known it, Ron!”

“Awww, don’t start this again, sweetheart,” I whined. I’ve had had enough of her ‘know-it-all-manners’ for that day

“Haven’t you heard of Archimedes?” she asked. I shook my head. “He was a great scientist in the ancient Syracuse. While he was taking a bath, he managed to understand an important rule of physics and he shouted Heurekah. Really, you should have taken Muggle Studies, Ron,” she replied, pointing her wand downwards to look for her knickers. While searching for the cloak, my remaining sock had also fallen out of the boat, but luckily it was still floating on the surface of the water, while the other one had disappeared into the depths. I bent out of the boat, reaching for my floating sock when I felt Hermione’s stare on myself.

I turned around and in the small light of her wand I saw that she was eyeing me in a rather peculiar way.

“What?” I knitted my eyebrows.

“What’s that?” she pointed at my butt.

“What’s what?” I asked, starting to feel embarrassed.

“You’ve got a scar on your buttock, Ron. Did you know?”

“Er… no,” I replied, feeling that I was blushing. Even my ears were turning red. “Come on, Hermione, I think that the heating charm is starting to wear off… let’s get dressed.”

She flashed me with an amused glance and reached for her bra.

I decided to let her accomplish a propelling charm on our boat so that I wouldn’t have to row back to the tunnel with my stiff arms, and hoped against hope that she wouldn’t mention that scar again… it was connected to a rather unpleasant memory and I think I would have died if she had ever got to know…





* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *



But now, months later, it seemed that she’d get to know.

I shot my sister a pleading look, but Ginny seemed not to have noticed it.

“I’ve won… so you have to give me Pigwidgeon, and I can now tell Hermione about your little accident in the toilet…” she said.

“Oh, no…” I groaned.

“Oh, yeees…” Ginny sneered. “You know what? I’ll be merciful…”

My face lit up with hope.

“…you can keep Pigwidgeon. I’ll only tell your story.”

“Could it be the other way around?” I pleaded.

Ginny smirked. “No. Herm, please, put Lily back into her cradle.”

Hermione took the baby, placed her into the cradle, then sat back on Ginny’s bed. “I’m all ears.”

“Well… it happened when Ron was six years old…” Ginny began. I rushed to the window to inspect something in the park. “…when George got a racoon for Christmas. He called it Joe. Joe was still a cub, and very playful. He kept ruining everything in the house. One day when Joe accidentally chewed Ron’s Chudley Cannons jumper, Ron got so mad that he ‘accidentally’ flushed Joe down the toilet. He didn’t know that the animal didn’t drown, and the next time he sat on the toilet seat, the racoon jumped out of the U-bend, and bit his butt,” she giggled at the memory. I was still turning my back on them, hiding my ruby red complexion. “You have never heard such a squealing, Herm! He ran out of the toilet, Joe hanging from his rear, howling ‘geroff me!’ Wow, that was a sight… he couldn’t sit down for a whole week.”

“So that is the origin of that scar…” Hermione mused in a dreamy tone.

“Scaaaar?” Ginny raised an eyebrow.

“Uh-oh…” Hermione muttered, realising that she’d been thinking aloud. Although I couldn’t see her face, I was sure that she had turned as red as the setting Sun.

“Scar?” Ginny repeated. “YOU have SEEN that scar?”

Now I turned around, my countenance mirroring that of Hermione.

Ginny saw our complexion, and understanding dawned on her, making her burst out with laughter. “Oh, my… don’t… don’t do this to me…” she chortled. “It still hurts to laugh…”

By then Hermione and I had also doubled up with laughter.

“Hermione… I would never have thought…” Ginny chuckled.

“We could tell you the same,” Hermione shrugged. “There’s only one little difference… we were more careful than you and Harry.”

Ginny heaved a deep sigh. “Yeah… we weren’t cautious enough… but I don’t regret it. I’ve wanted this child ever since I got to know that she was growing inside me.”





Before Hermione and I left the infirmary to let Ginny and little Lily sleep, Dobby put in an appearance.

“Dobby is so happy, ladies and sir that Harry Potter’s child is born! Dobby has even gone and accomplished the usual elven birth-ritual!” he said, beaming.

“Elven birth-ritual?” I raised an eyebrow. “What is that?”

“When a friend of a house-elf has a baby, the house-elf goes to the nearest lake, river or sea to catch a fish for the parents of the newborn! This is a custom, sir, and Dobby has gone to the lake…” suddenly his expression changed to embarrassed, “but couldn’t catch a fish! All that Dobby caught was… this!” he held up a tattered red sock with dirtied-orange letters: CC.

“Heurekah, he’s found it,” I murmured, and my glance met with Hermione’s. Poor Dobby had no idea why we started to laugh, our laughter echoing off the walls of the hospital wing, filling the whole Hogwarts castle.







F I N





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