Chapter 6
It was late afternoon already, and sunlight could be found slanting through the windows, casting warm, golden rays on the cluttered kitchen table. Molly was bustling about the kitchen, preparing a rather large meal because the Potters were joining them for dinner. There was an air of tension that lingered, something unspoken and thick in the room. Her hands moved in practiced motions, chopping vegetables with a precision that was quite impressive considering her stewing frustration.
Ginny stood near the door, nervously shifting her weight from one foot to the other, her hands wringing the hem of her shirt. Her face was flushed, not from the heat of the kitchen, but mostly because she was struggling to stop herself from giggling madly.
She was just pranking Ron like usual, she thought sheepishly, but a small pack of Fred and George’s new and improved dungbombs had the misfortune of finding their way into Harry’s favorite trouser pocket. The explosion had sent him into a fit of coughing and gagging, and Mrs. Weasley had not been impressed when she'd come rushing in, to restore order, only for her to find Harry as the victim.
Ginny knew she was in for it, but not before she strangles her darling twin brothers first, she mused darkly. She could practically hear her mother's angry voice echoing in her head, and her heart thumped a bit at her biting words.
"You’d think you'd grown by now, Ginny," Her mum had scolded when she found out, her voice thick with disappointment. "Always pulling pranks, always causing chaos. What am I to do with you?"
Ginny snorted, taking it in stride, “You have your sons to blame for that mum. I already said sorry to Harry, he even thinks it's funny, and got him to laugh after weeks.”
“Can’t you at least do something that's more mild?” her mother chided, “Honestly, there’s already so much one could do.”
Shaking her head, she left the kitchen to open the door for whoever knocked, only to see James outside, with a dessert basket in hand.
“Hey Uncle James,” Ginny said brightly, taking the goodies from his hand to place on the nearest table.
James looked down at her, his expression turning into an easy smile as he set himself down on the sofa chair. “Oi, what’s got you looking so happy?”
“I’m not happy,” Ginny said quickly. She winced, knowing how that sounded. “No I’m happy but I can’t be too happy, or else mum will start going at it again.”
James raised an eyebrow, clearly curious. “What did you do this time?”
“Dungbombs,” Ginny muttered, lowering her gaze to the floor. “Ron’s sweater pocket. That’s where it was supposed to go. It was supposed to be a little harmless joke, you know, Fred and George made new prototypes and asked me to test them. Mum doesn’t think it's funny.”
James let out a soft chuckle, clearly impressed. But there was something else there, something that softened his expression as he rose to his feet. “You’re right about one thing, she doesn’t think it’s funny. Not anymore.”
“Yeah,” Ginny said, her voice trailing off. “I don’t know why I keep doing things for those two, they always just get me in trouble. I know it annoys her. But it's just—" She stopped, uncertain of how to explain herself.
“Because it’s fun?” James offered, his tone light and teasing.
Ginny gave a small, reluctant smile. “Yeah. But it's not fun for anyone else in this bloody house that aren’t the twins. Not for Ron, not for Mum…”
“Well, Molly’s got her hands full,” James said with a grin, amused by her antics “It’s not exactly the easiest job keeping you lot in line.”
Ginny couldn’t help but laugh softly. “Yeah, well, sometimes I think she should just let us do what we want. We’re not that bad, are we?”
James shook his head, his expression turning more serious now. “You’re not bad. I think Molly just… well, she worries.”
Ginny tilted her head, looking at him curiously. “Worries? About what?”
James sighed, stepping away from the steps to walk toward the garden. “I think it’s just... it’s hard for her. She has so many of us to keep track of. And you, Ginny, you’ve always been a little… fiery. Not to mention Voldemort, and I know we said he won’t try anything for now, having only gained a body a month ago, but she has a lot of people she loves, so a lot of people to worry about.”
Ginny chewed her bottom lip, “Okay I see the point,” she admitted, “I’m just not being used to her buttons being pushed so easily. And I’m sure it wasn’t only because it was Harry that got in the middle.”
“The first war was terrible,” he replied softly, “She might be reliving things, but know that when this all blows over, she’ll be back to normal to let everyone know who Fred and George truly got their mischievousness from.”
Ginny hugged him, squeezing his middle, “If you say so. How come you’re so calm about it all?”
James shrugged, a sad smile clouding his face. “I’ve had a lot of practice.” His gaze flickered toward the kitchen door, where their mother could be seen moving around, still visibly upset. She hadn’t even noticed him arriving, which meant she was more than a little irritated. He lowered his voice. “Look, if you want, I’ll talk to Molly for you. You know I’ve got her wrapped around my finger.”
Ginny’s eyes widened in surprise. “You would do that?”
“Of course I would,” James said, giving her a wink. “I mean, it’s not like I’m doing anything else tonight aside from eating her cooked meal.”
Ginny felt a wave of appreciation wash over her, her shoulders relaxing. “Thanks,”
“Don’t mention it,” James said with a grin. “But if you keep this up, I might start charging for my services.”
Ginny smirked. “Deal. But you might want to set your prices high. Mum’s not exactly an easy customer.”
James laughed, the sound light and carefree. “I can handle her, I used to live with Sirius after all. You just keep having fun, alright? And maybe, just maybe, try to keep the dungbombs out of Harry’s pants next time, I’m the one paying for all his clothes.”
Ginny turned pink as she laughed. James was there to have her back after all.
And that, Ginny realized, was all she really needed sometimes.