Golden Days

TWO

After Mrs. Weasley had finished her third rejected wedding cake of the week and abandoned the kitchen for fifteen minutes of repose in her bedroom, and Ginny had sat for an hour reading through a box of undelivered letters, she'd come downstairs to the living room to peruse the latest edition of The Quibbler and to ignore her brother. Every time Ron attempted to speak, Ginny would cut him off with a, "Please hush, I'm trying to work this puzzle," or a "I'd like to have full concentration on this article about dysfunctional clans of Acromantula who don't like eating their own family members, as opposed to the typical type who enjoy it thoroughly."

He was so frustrated with her by the time a knock sounded at the front door that he shot like a cannonball to answer it. Ginny's stomach knotted, thinking that it might be Harry, come for his stay a little earlier than expected.

"Who is it?" called Ron through the door.

"Let an old lady in," cawed a voice from the other side. "It's your Auntie Muriel!"

Ron mouthed the words "Auntie Muriel" wordlessly, a green tinge suddenly coloring his complexion. A grin curled the sides of Ginny's mouth.

"Let her in, you git!" said Ginny, amusement unmistakable in her tone.

"What's the password, then?" grumbled Ron, clearly hoping she didn't remember.

"How could I forget?" the voice said on the other side of the door. "Celestina Sings the Blues...your father stopped by to tell me this morning!"

Ron groaned. He slowly opened the door and was promptly attacked by the ancient-looking woman who entered the house, her wispy, frail arms pulling him into a hug and her shriveled mouth planting a firm kiss on his red cheek. Ginny snorted a laugh, but was soon given her due.

"Accio Ginevra!" bleated the sinewy old woman.

Ginny felt her feet drag the floor as the summoning charm pulled her into the thin, outstretched arms of her Auntie Muriel. She knocked heads with Ron as Auntie Muriel pecked another kiss on each of their flushed cheeks. Ron let out a whimper of disgust. Ginny snickered.

"All right, children? Hmm?" She rumpled both Ginny's and Ron's hair and looked toward the kitchen. "I'd bite your arm off for a piping hot cuppa, hmm?"

"Auntie Muriel," Ron said, flattening his disheveled hair. "I thought you weren't coming 'til Friday..."

"It's not Friday?" said Auntie Muriel, looking at her bare wrist with a contorted expression. "But it says here on my watch--"

"You're not wearing a watch, Auntie--"

"Belt up, Ron," Ginny grumbled in an undertone. "And get a kettle going for Auntie's tea."

Under his breath, Ron murmured invective directed at his elderly aunt all the way into the kitchen. Ginny was thankful Auntie Muriel was hard of hearing.

"So, where is the groom-to-be?" said Muriel, taking a scarf printed with fuchsia hibiscus off of her head to reveal a shock of poorly dyed red hair. Ginny made a mental note to do a proper color change spell for her before the wedding. "Where's our Percy?"

Ginny raised an eyebrow. At 93 years old, Auntie Muriel lived on her own (not counting her thirty-two cats and a tank full of flobberworms), but she still was quite senile. She was always doing odd things like sending Christmas cards in June or Apparating into Diagon Alley for a day of shopping dressed in her dead husband's frock coat.

"Percy's not here, Auntie," Ginny said, taking her aunt by the hand and leading her into the kitchen. "And he's not getting married."

"He's not! Then why am I here?" Muriel said, looking thoroughly put out. "I'm leaving at once if there's not to be a wedding...honestly, when I speak to your father about this--" She screwed her face up, making her look quite prunish, and Ginny knew in about five seconds, she'd Disapparate.

"There is to be a wedding!" Ginny shouted, trying to keep her aunt from disappearing. "Bill's wedding!"

"Oh, dear me!" said Muriel, blushing scarlet. "How embarrassing. Of course, dear Bill." She settled herself at the kitchen table, shaking her head.

"Here's your tea, Auntie Muriel," Ron said, plopping a tea cup in front of the old woman.

"Thank you, Ronald," she replied. She opened up her large purple handbag and removed a sugar bowl.

"We have sugar, Auntie," said Ginny, looking baffled at the pink-and-green fairy-patterned sugar bowl her aunt had just extricated from her bag.

"Oh, no," Muriel said, waving a hand at her niece. "I didn't want to impose, so I brought my own, hmm?"

"Hmm," grumbled Ron. "I'll be in the garden, waiting for Harry," he said as he left the kitchen.

"So where's this girl Percy's--"

"Bill!"

"Oh, blimey, there I go again! Bill, then. Where's this girl Bill's marrying?"

Right on cue, Fleur wandered into the kitchen.

"Ginny, your muzzer wants to pin you eento zee dress now," she announced. Then she noticed the eccentric-looking woman seated at the table and her jaw sagged a bit.

Auntie Muriel cast an appraising eye on Fleur, then smiled widely.

"This is Fleur, Auntie Muriel," Ginny said. Fleur looked too dazed to introduce herself. "Bill's fiancée."

"Chuffed to meet you, dearie!" crooned Muriel. "You sure are a pretty thing, hmm? And what kind of name is Flaar?"

"Fleur," Ginny corrected. "It's French. It means flower." She looked at Fleur to try to gauge a response, and gathered shock from the expression on her face.

"Well, you're as pretty as a flower, hmm? Come let Auntie Muriel give you a smack!"

Ginny swallowed the laughter dying to emerge from within.

"A smack?" bellowed Fleur, finally regaining her voice.

"She means a kiss, Fleur," said Ginny, a definite note of amusement in her voice that Fleur had obviously detected. She cast an annoyed look towards Ginny, but then it evaporated into a look of relief.

"Certainly," Fleur said to Muriel, and she inclined her porcelain-fine cheek towards the old woman.

***

"Hold still, dear!" snapped Mrs. Weasley, pulling a pin out of the pincushion she was wearing on her wrist and attempting to secure some of the silky gold material around her daughter's waist.

"Oww!" shrieked Ginny, jumping off of the chair her mum had asked her to stand on and gingerly rubbing the sore spot where Mrs. Weasley'd pricked her. "Honestly, Mum! That hurt!"

"Don't be a baby, Ginny," her mother scolded.

"I'm not being a baby," Ginny said. "Look, I'm actually bleeding!" She craned her neck around to see crimson spots flourishing on golden fabric in the area where the pin had punctured her moments ago. "Right there! Blood."

"Well.." said Mrs. Weasley, sounding apologetic. She flicked her wand at the tiny wound and sighed. "I'm not the best at sewing, dear...you know that. I thought trying this the Muggle way would be better, because you know how my stitching charms always turn out."

Ginny had a fleeting thought of Ron's dress robes from his fourth year. Their mum had meant well, but her improvements to the already repugnant robes had been horrible.

"Just let me have a look at the incantation for clothing alterations and I'll give it a go," Ginny said, feeling exhausted from having been an unwilling participant of acupuncture for the past half hour. That and she was desperate to get out of her gaudy gold robes and into some comfortable Muggle attire. Harry was due to arrive very shortly and she didn't want him seeing her looking as if she'd been touched by King Midas.

Mrs. Weasley conceded and handed Ginny a thick lavender book entitled, Gilderoy Lockhart's Complete Household Guide to Stitchery. Ginny flipped to the table of contents and found the word "alterations" under chapter seven's heading. She read the instructions quickly and set the book down.

"My wand, please," Ginny said to her mother. Mrs. Weasley handed it to her and took a step back. "Here goes nothing...Novus vieo!"

The silky fabric began to ripple, as if Ginny had stepped into a warm summer breeze. She could feel where it had been loose a moment before, and was now becoming fitted as the spell took effect. The robes were constricting around her waist, her ribcage, at her bustline -- at the moment she felt comfortable, but she thought if the spell continued any longer, the material might cut off her circulation.

"Finite incantatem!" she said quickly.

Mrs. Weasley evaluated Ginny's spellwork, walking round and round her several times before finally saying, "Not bad, not bad. A little snug in some places, though, don't you think?" She raised an eyebrow and glared directly at her daughter's chest.

"MUM!" bellowed Ginny, horrified. "The robes are fitted, they're not too tight. Honestly, would you rather I looked like I was wearing a potato sack?"

"Perhaps," bristled Mrs. Weasley, her arms folded.

"Well, that makes only one of us, and since I'm the only one who can perform the charm..."

"You'll want to watch that cheek, young lady," warned Mrs. Weasley.

But before she could admonish Ginny any further, Ron's voice interrupted. He was crowing something from the garden. Something that sounded very much like, "Harry is here!"