Chapter Text
“Mum’s gone mental,” announced Ginny.
The Leaky Cauldron was abuzz with Christmastime cheer and chatter as she dropped down into the usual booth, a wide half-circle of red leather that she and her friends often staked out because it was the only table big enough to seat all of them. Only Ron and Hermione were there now, though, early to lunch, sipping on butterbeers, their son seated on the table giggling at the stuffed dragon in his lap.
“Forget Mum,” said Ron, shooting her a narrow-eyed look as she slid in. “What’s this in the Prophet about you and Harry?”
“Ugh.” Ginny gave the newspaper he pushed over to her a disgusted glance. “That’s why Mum’s gone mental. Hi, Luke, how are you?”
Lucas Weasley, aged eighteen and a half months, babbled as Hermione turned him around to look at her. “Gigi!” he squealed, clapping his hands. His shock of red hair was already irrepressibly curly, in true Hermione fashion, and he had his mother’s bright brown eyes on a delightfully chubby face.
Ginny grinned and held a hand out for him to clasp onto her fingers. He immediately began inspecting her Harpies ring.
“You got a real niffler here, Ron,” she told her brother.
“Luke, no, jewelry is not a toy,” said Hermione sternly, extricating Ginny’s finger from Luke’s death grasp. “Here, try this.”
She replaced the forgotten stuffed dragon with a malleable clay ball and Luke dug his fingers into it with a curious exclamation. Shoving the dragon back into her baby bag of apparently endless depth, Hermione brushed her hair back from her face and then fixed a questioning look on Ginny.
“So why has your mum gone mental?”
“Because of this.” Ginny tapped the front page of the Prophet, still spread out on their table. It featured a photograph of her, fresh off the pitch from the charity match they had played against the Appleby Arrows, her uniform still grass-stained and dirty, and her arms tossed around a man with an untidy mop of black hair. He was in the middle of Ron and Hermione, who were cheering raucously if silently, and was hugging her back tightly in celebration.
“Yeah, since when are you dating my best mate?” demanded Ron.
Ginny leveled him an unimpressed look.
“Ron, you were there. We’re not dating! It was just a hug and someone got exactly the right photograph and made a hundred galleons off of it.”
“A hundred galleons is a bit of a lowball,” said Hermione, attempting to distract Luke from the clay ball long enough to get him to sip some water. “Pretty sure gossip about your love life goes for, like, five hundred to a thousand now.”
“Thank you,” said Ginny sarcastically. “I haven’t even seen Harry since the match. But the worst part is, apparently Grandmum found out about this rumor and that’s why Mum’s gone mental.”
“Mental in a good way or a bad way?” asked Ron.
“Is it ever mental in a good way, Ron?”
He grinned at her. “Just checking. So what are you going to do?”
“Nothing,” said Ginny, waving a dismissive hand at the paper. “I’ll just wait for it to blow over.”
“I don’t know,” said Ron thoughtfully. “Grandmum’s got a pixie in her bonnet about you getting married, and she’s coming to stay for Christmas. She’s going to be all over this.”
Ginny sighed deeply. That had been part of the ‘Mum’s gone mental’ conversation she’d had with her mother over Floo call in her flat before coming here. As the only girl born into the Weasley family in generations, not to mention the fact that she was approaching thirty years of age and still single, and all her brothers were married with kids, as were her extended family of various redheaded cousins, Cedrella Weasley had many expectations, hopes, and dreams for her only granddaughter, and they all revolved around a white dress, a big cake, and a happily ever after.
Mum, thankfully, was less insane than Ginny’s grandmother, who seemed to believe that the entire family’s future hinged upon Ginny getting married and having babies, but Molly Weasley was still a chronic meddler, and she had not given up hope for one more big Weasley wedding in the near future, especially since it had been a few years since Ron and Hermione’s.
“I’ll just deal with it,” she said, grimacing. She’d been dealing with pointed hints and nudges about her time to get married for years now, after all. “Where are the others?”
“Neville’s running late at Hogwarts, something about the mimblus mimbletonia exploding everywhere,” said Hermione. “I’m sure Luna got distracted chasing a Blibbering Humdinger or something, and Harry should be here soon, he’s only coming from the office.”
Ron pointed his wand at Luke’s clay ball and turned it into a clay dragon. Luke cheered and immediately severed the dragon’s head.
“He’s been spending too much time with Charlie,” Ron explained to her. “Now all he cares about are dragons.”
“Ron, why don’t you get Ginny a butterbeer while we wait?” Hermione suggested. He rolled his eyes but got up obediently and Ginny sent Hermione a thankful smile.
“Did you read the article?” Hermione asked, after making sure Luke wasn’t going to eat the severed dragon’s head.
“Of course not,” said Ginny. “I never read about myself.”
“Well, it says you’re planning on retiring soon,” said Hermione carefully.
Ginny snorted. “Obviously not.”
“That might be why your mum is going mental, though.” Hermione reattached the clay dragon with her wand and sent it spinning in circles around Luke’s head. “If she thinks you’re retiring without a family or any type of plan.”
“I’m not planning on retiring until I physically can’t stay on my broom anymore,” said Ginny. “And then I’ll go into coaching. Mum just needs to relax. She has seven kids and six of them are married and have kids already. That should be more than enough.”
Hermione laughed a little. “Yeah, it should. But you are her only daughter.”
“Don’t remind me.” Ginny sighed again, watching Luke’s attempts to catch the dragon. “I mean, honestly, you have seven kids, one of them is bound to be a girl.”
“Isn’t there some sort of curse on the family?” teased Hermione. “Only boys for a hundred years or whatever?”
“Try a hundred and fifty,” said Ron over her shoulder, reemerging from the crush of Christmastime customers with a foaming butterbeer mug for Ginny. It was topped with a little candy cane and she grinned gratefully at her brother. “Ginny’s the first girl born in seven generations. Oi, there he is, man of the hour. How was the office?”
Harry Potter appeared at the head of their booth as Ron sat down, smiling in greeting at the four of them. He undid the buttons on his coat, draping it onto the booth before sliding in next to Ginny, his hair dark and ruffled from the walk outside in the winter, snowflakes dusting down his shoulders.
Ginny smiled back, quickly folding up the newspaper that Ron had inconsiderately kept spread out on the table before he saw it. He didn’t seem to notice though, distracted by Luke’s enthusiastic greeting and picking up his godson to give him a hug.
“What kept you?” asked Hermione as Luke squirmed happily on Harry’s lap.
“Bad news,” said Harry with a grimace. “I was on the Floo with Mum and she’s drawn the short straw for Christmas this year. She’s got to stay at Hogwarts and watch the students all holiday.”
Ron, Hermione, and Ginny made noises of sympathy. Luke, confused, joined in with a quizzical cry that made Harry stop frowning and smile brilliantly down at him.
“That sucks, mate,” said Ron earnestly. “So, are you going to go celebrate Christmas at the castle then?”
“Normally, we would, but it actually kind of works out,” said Harry, bouncing Luke up and down. “Dad and Padfoot are up to their necks in this case they’ve been working on all month. Dad suggested we skip Christmas and make up for it in the new year, when Mum’s off teacher duty. And guess what—Violet’s already leapt at the opportunity to go spend Christmas in the Swiss Alps with her new boyfriend.”
“No way,” Hermione said in disbelief. “Christmas holidays already? She’s only just started dating him!”
“I’m lost,” said Ginny, looking back and forth between the three of them. “Who’s Violet’s new boyfriend?”
“Graham Pritchard,” Harry told her in a tone of deep disdain. “Snotty little pureblood, and his family’s incredibly rich. They own a cabin in the mountains, and I’m sure Vi’s been chomping at the bit to go away with him.”
His disgusted voice couldn’t fully mask his fondness for his little sister, and Ginny laughed.
“Well, she’s young and in love, let her spend a romantic holiday in the Swiss Alps,” she suggested. “What are you and Caleb going to do?”
Harry rolled his eyes at the mention of his younger brother. “Caleb, probably get wildly drunk in some crazy magical bar in London that we’re not cool enough to get invited to.”
“Well, we are thirty years old,” said Hermione practically. “I’d be a bit concerned if we were getting invited to the same parties as your little brother.”
“I wouldn’t,” said Ron in offense.
“Ron, you can’t get ragingly drunk on Christmas anymore, we have a child.”
“That’s what Ginny’s for,” he said, hooking a thumb at his sister. “Free babysitting.”
“Excuse you,” said Ginny primly, reaching across Harry’s lap to tickle Luke and make him squeal in delight. “My babysitting services are not free.”
“Yeah, you should be fleecing them,” Harry told her, grinning. “I have it on good authority Ron’s getting a raise at the department in the new year.”
Ron’s mouth dropped open. “Really? How d’you know?”
Harry looked at him.
“Oh, right,” said Ron, looking sheepish. “Your dad is the Head Auror.” He paused, grinning at the idea of a raise, then pointed a finger at Ginny. “And you should not be fleecing us. You make more in one game than I do in three months of work.”
“Yeah, but consider that you have to pay the older brother tax,” said Ginny.
“Absolutely not.”
“So, Harry,” interrupted Hermione before they could devolve into more sibling bickering. “Where does that leave you for Christmas?”
Harry shrugged, careful not to dislodge Luke on his lap, although Luke was attempting an escape anyway. He lifted him up and set him on the table, and Luke went crawling back to his parents’ side of the booth, crowing for more toys.
“I’ll have a quiet one in, I guess. Maybe I’ll go to Moony and Tonks’ place, see the kids, catch up on Teddy’s first year at Hogwarts.”
“Or you could come to the Burrow,” suggested Ron, waggling his eyebrows in Ginny’s direction. “Mum would love that.”
She narrowed her eyes at him over the top of her butterbeer mug.
Harry glanced between the two of them, confused. “What am I missing?”
“Oh, nothing, just the front page spread of today’s Daily Prophet, all about how you and this one here are… canoodling,” said Ron, nodding at Ginny.
“Canoodling?” repeated Harry and Ginny together in much the same tone.
Hermione stifled a laugh and busied herself in fishing out baby food to feed to Luke, who was starting to fuss.
“That’s what Skeeter said!” said Ron defensively, pulling the paper open again where Ginny had shoved it to the side and offering it up to Harry. “Read it for yourself.”
“He’s kidding, by the way,” said Ginny, shooting her brother a glare as Harry picked up the paper. “You do not have to come to the Burrow for Christmas.”
“I mean, it’s going to be fun,” Ron encouraged. “Big family reunion. Ottery St. Catchpole does a Christmas market and they have the best marshmallow hot chocolates. Fred and George are in charge of decorations. Even Percy’s sticking his head out of his pile of work to come.”
“Fred and George being in charge of decorations is not a ringing endorsement,” Ginny pointed out.
“It’ll be great, they’ll get all the gnomes and the chickens involved, and Mum will bring out the big ham.” Ron stretched an arm to rest on the booth behind Hermione and grinned down at his wife. “Perfect Christmas. And it’ll be nice for you, Ginny.”
“Why would it be nice for me?”
“You show up with a boyfriend, Mum and all the aunts won’t be nagging you about it all through Christmas lunch and dinner.”
“Right, and then what?” Ginny asked, rolling her eyes. “I break their hearts by revealing it was all a farce on New Year’s Day?”
“No, just stage a breakup after everyone’s gone home,” said Ron simply. “Easy.”
“Ron, that’s insane.”
“But it would work. What d’you say, Harry?”
“Hm?” Harry looked up from the article as if he hadn’t been paying attention, but Ginny was sitting next to him and could see from the way his gaze jumped between her and Ron that he clearly had been listening. “Oh, uh, I don’t know. Do you need a fake boyfriend?” he asked her.
“Merlin, no,” she said immediately. “I’m not crazy.” This, she aimed at Ron, who shrugged and took another sip of his butterbeer.
“Fine, if you want to deal with Grandmum and Mum pressuring you to get married and have babies all by yourself, be my guest.”
“I can handle—”
“What do you mean pressuring you?” Harry asked.
“It’s nothing,” said Ginny quickly.
“Grandmum’s been wanting Ginny to get married for years,” Ron explained. “She gets disappointed every time she breaks up with one of her boyfriends. This,” he said, pointing at the blown-up picture of Harry and Ginny embracing in the Prophet, “is exactly the kind of thing she eats up. Big, flashy romance, happily ever after, that kind of thing. And if Ginny’s single, she’ll get barraged with all the ‘why haven’t you found a man yet’ and ‘what’s wrong with you’ questions all Christmas.”
Ginny scowled at her brother.
Harry looked startled. “Why would she ask that?”
“Because I’m the only single Weasley grandchild and the only girl,” said Ginny with a sigh. “Lots of hopes and dreams there. It’s okay, don’t worry about it. I will be fine,” she added firmly in Ron’s direction.
Ron opened his mouth to argue, but Harry spoke first.
“I mean, I can do it.”
Both of them swiveled their heads to stare at him, and so did Hermione over Luke’s red hair.
“What?” asked Ginny blankly.
Harry shrugged, folding up the paper so that the photograph of them disappeared within the folds.
“I just told you, I don’t have any major plans for Christmas now that Mum’s stuck at Hogwarts. And if it’ll help you out…” He paused and glanced up at her, smiling slightly. “I don’t mind.”
“Cheers, mate,” said Ron into a stunned silence. “That’ll be great, then, we can all stay at the Burrow together.”
“You do not have to do this,” said Ginny, talking over her brother and sending him a glare to make him shut up. “I mean, it’s ridiculous.”
Harry grinned. “Definitely not the most ridiculous thing Ron has ever talked me into.”
“Hey,” said Ron. “Pretty sure you are usually the one talking me into ridiculous things.”
Hermione had been oddly silent the whole exchange, and Ginny glanced over to send her a beseeching look for help.
“Well, I don’t think it’s as bad an idea as all that,” she said fairly. Ginny glared at her. “We all get to spend Christmas together, Harry isn’t bored to death in his flat, and we get your grandmother off your back. Win-win-win.”
“No,” said Ginny forcefully. “What do you suppose happens when Mum finds out I’ve been lying to her?”
“Why would she find out?” asked Harry.
She gaped at him. “Well—she’d know. It’s not like we’re going to be, you know…”
“Canoodling?” suggested Hermione with a wry grin.
“You’re telling me you can’t lie to your mother?” Harry asked her, raising an eyebrow. “Are you or are you not the same girl who once told her to her face that Crookshanks was throwing dungbombs in the house, with your hands covered in dung?”
Ginny scoffed. “Obviously, I can. I was worried about you.”
“Me?”
“Mm, Harry does a lot of undercover work nowadays,” piped up Ron. “He’s an accomplished liar.”
“Seems like a perfect match,” Hermione quipped. Luke babbled as if to say he, too, agreed with the insane idea of fake dating.
Ginny rolled her eyes. “You know, I’m starting to remember why I didn’t hang out with you three at school.”
“Oh, yeah, right,” said Ron, laughing. He straightened up and spoke in a high-pitched tone of voice to mimic her twelve-year-old self: “Mummy, Ron won’t ever let me sit with his friends in the Hogwarts Express! Make him—”
Ginny drew her wand, pointed it at her butterbeer, and sent a spray of caramel-flavored foam spattering across the table, directly onto Ron’s face, making him stop and splutter. Luke looked around at his father curiously, then clapped in delight.
Hermione sighed long-sufferingly and withdrew napkins from their baby bag for her husband. Harry, Ginny noticed, was looking at her curiously.
“What?” she asked him, glancing away from Hermione tenderly wiping Ron’s face of butterbeer foam.
“Nothing,” he said. “If you don’t want to do it, that’s fine, but I—”
His voice cut off abruptly at the sight of someone else emerging from the crowd and towards their table. Cho Chang, dressed in pretty wintery blue robes, with her long dark hair plaited down over one shoulder, stopped in front of them and smiled at them all in greeting.
“Hello,” she said brightly. “Happy early Christmas. Harry, sorry to bother you, I know you’re off for the holiday now, but I was just wondering, did you have a chance to finish the paperwork for that extension on—”
“Yeah,” said Harry quickly. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny exchanged looks behind his back. “Yeah, I filed that in today so it would be ready for you.”
“Great.” Cho beamed, her whole face brightening. “Thank you for that.” Her eyes traveled among the four of them, lingering on Harry’s arm on the table next to Ginny’s, and the spread of the Daily Prophet between them. Her smile fell slightly. “I’ll see you later, then. Have a good Christmas.”
“Thanks,” said Harry. “You, too.”
Cho drifted away, back to a table of slightly tipsy, very giggly women, and Harry turned back to his own friends.
“What?” he asked defensively.
“Well,” said Ron, smirking at him. “I’d say fake dating Ginny would also be very good for you.”
Harry frowned at him.
“She did seem a bit jealous,” Hermione pointed out quietly, darting a quick glance at Ginny.
“No way,” said Harry. “It’s—I mean, we’re over. We’ve been over. I’m pretty sure she’s back with Diggory now.”
“Well, that doesn’t mean she’s not still interested,” said Ron. “What d’you think, Ginny?”
Ginny had been spinning her butterbeer mug around in circles, and looked up at his addressing her.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I mean, in all fairness, she’s never liked me since I caught that snitch out from under her nose back in Hogwarts.”
Ron snorted. Hermione giggled a little, bouncing Luke in her arms to help him burp up the food he’d just eaten.
“Well, either way, she’s obviously seen the rumors,” Ron said. “Can’t hurt to go for it, can it?”
Harry glanced at Ginny. “I mean, it’s up to you.”
Ginny took a breath and smiled at him.
“Well, now that it’s a chance to get you back with the girl of your dreams,” she said lightly. “How can I refuse?”