Manor for the wedding, of course…and so will you…but after that we've got two weeks of holiday before term starts up again, and I'll be going back home to Glyn Caryn…”
“That's nice, Seamus,” said Ginny agreeably. “I've heard it's lovely there.”
“I want you to come with me,” he said.
Ginny stopped playing with the book cover and stared. “What?”
“I think it would be fun,” said Seamus determinedly. “We've got a castle, you know — nowhere near as big as this one, but quite sizeable, and you wouldn't have to see me for days if you didn't want to. I've got tickets to the Puddlemere/Cannons game in Dublin, and we could go to that, and there's ice skating on the grounds and tobogganing…” he sighed and tugged distractedly on a loose curl of his hair. “You know, this sounded a lot better when I was rehearsing it in my head than 'Come to my house; I've got a toboggan.'”
Ginny, who had been looking at him wonderingly, laughed. “You rehearsed this in your head?” she demanded. “Why?”
“Because I think you really need a holiday,” he said. “And you're not going to get one with the friends you've got — they're mad.”
“I thought you liked Harry and Hermione,” said Ginny.
“I do, but they're mad and these days all they do is glare — don't give me that look, everyone's noticed. And your brother spends most of him time sulking as well. Go ahead and tell me that spending time with them is a crazy whirligig of fun, but I'm not going to believe you.”
“And I suppose if I go visit you in Ireland, that would be a crazy whirligig of fun?”
“I can promise you fun,” said Seamus. “Crazy whirligig might be pushing it.”
She grinned. “Will you show me your action figure collection?”
Seamus looked airily at the ceiling. “I might do.”
“Have you got the Harry and Draco ones they made over the summer?”
Seamus nodded, his eyes glinting. “I've got two of the Malfoy one — one in its original packaging and one for decapitation purposes.”
”Seamus, that is just wrong.”
“I'll glue his head back on if you come to visit,” said Seamus contritely.
Ginny hesitated. “I don't know,” she said slowly. “I do have to check with my parents, but I can't see why they'd say no. I–I'll think about it, Seamus.” She checked herself as his blue eyes darkened. “But I want to — and I appreciate it. I really, really do.” She leaned forward and kissed his cheek, and then put her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes. Of course, she thought, if the great museum caper didn't go as planned, she wouldn't be able to make it to Ireland anyway — not without a side-trip to Azkaban for a few years beforehand.
“You know, I've missed this,” said Ron in a conversational tone, as Harry tried the door of the Trophy Room.
“Missed what?” Harry asked, his mind only half on what Ron was saying.
The Trophy Room door tended to squeak when it was opened, and although Harry had the Invisibility Cloak in his pocket he didn't feel like using it. He pushed down slowly on the handle and the door slid soundlessly open. Harry slipped through, and turned to wait for Ron to follow him.
But Ron was lingering in the doorway. “Missed this,” he said, and gestured from himself to Harry and back again. “Missed you and me.”
Harry cocked his head to the side. “That's…” He chanced a tired smile. “I didn't know you cared.”
But Ron didn't smile back. He looked grave. “Maybe you don't know what I mean,” he said. “I mean us, sneaking around, going on missions, getting in trouble…like we used to.”
“We're not in trouble,” Harry said. He didn't know why he was refusing to acknowledge what Ron was really saying, but he was. “Although if you keep standing in the doorway…”
Ron's mouth tightened. He came into the room, and shut the door behind him. “Fine,” he said. “Let's get what we came for.” He walked into the center of the room and began industriously studying the display cases, behind which the rows of trophies, shields, and plaques gleamed dull gold and silver. Ron's hair gleamed too, a darkened bronze color in the half-light. The set of his shoulders was tense, and Harry knew of old that this meant Ron was feeling hurt. He knew why he couldn't acknowledge what Ron was saying…he didn't miss their loss of adventure the same way, because he had not really lost it. He still crept around school under the Cloak, still evaded the teachers to sneak off school grounds. He just did those things alone now. Alone, or with Draco.
He sighed. “Ron,” he said slowly. “I'm sorry. I know what you mean. I've missed it too, I've just been… caught up in other things.”
Ron glanced back at him. The faint light washed the blue out of his eyes.
“I've noticed,” he said. “I've offered before, but if you want to talk about it…”
Harry walked across the room, to the largest display case, and looked into it. There was the gold shield that bore his father's name, and his house and position: Gryffindor Seeker. “If there was something I could tell you,” he said, seeing Ron's face reflected in the display case glass, “I would.”
“Is it about Hermione?” Ron asked diffidently, looking down at his feet.
Harry twisted around to stare at him. “About Hermione?”
“Let's just say I can see why you're wearing your scarf indoors,” Ron said.
“The climate between you two is somewhat arctic.”
“Yeah,” Harry said. “She feels neglected.”
“That would be one of those funny side effects of neglect,” said Ron. He raised his eyes from his shoes. “Do you not love her any more?”
