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Harry Potter and the Ghosts of the Past by Sebastian07
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Harry Potter and the Ghosts of the Past

Sebastian07

Chapter Nine: Errors in Judgment

The morning light shot daggers through his temples. Ron groaned and squinted as he rolled his face into his pillow. As he lay their, trying to get a grip on his spinning world, images of the previous night slowly began returning to him.

He remembered the club, the alcohol, his brother and Lee Jordan, their little excursion to Pick's Hill, and Ginger...

Ron suddenly realized he was stark nude, and on top of that, he could feel the weight of another beside him in bed. Slowly, Ron turned to see the tangle of red hair beside him.

The sheet was halfway down her body. His eyes lingered on her bare, smooth back, to where her plump, round bottom lifted and disappeared beneath the white sheet. 'Merlin, she looks amazing!' Ron couldn't help but lick his lips at the sight of her.

He could see enough to know that she was nude as the day she was born as well. Ron's face flushed red. Just what exactly had he gotten himself into last night? He struggled with his pounding head to make sense of it all. Ginger...

If Ron felt any regret about last night, it was only that he could not remember how he'd gotten naked into this bed with this goddess, but just then, she stirred from her sleep.

"Hmmm... good morning, sunshine," she turned and smiled pleasantly to him, pulling the sheet up to cover her ample breasts as she tussled Ron's hair. Her face and cheeks were as radiant as the Sun.

"Er... good morning," Ron said impishly, turning his overt gaze bashfully from her to the ceiling.

"A little under the weather this morning, are we?" Ginger teased him.

"Yeah, I'd say so," Ron groaned as he rubbed at his temples.

"What a night!" Ginger sighed as she fell back onto her pillow, snuggling up close to him.

"Er, did we... last night?" Ron's cheeks burned with embarrassment. Ginger giggled.

"Don't tell me you were that tossed?!" Ginger laughed easily. "Seemed like you were enjoying yourself to me..." she smiled coyly as she scooted herself up even closer to him, rubbing their naked bodies together beneath the sheets.

"Merlin's beard!" Ron choked as her smooth skin sent tingles up his spine, before slapping himself on the forehead. His first time and he couldn't remember a thing of it. "Was I... er... it was my... uh... first time..." he kicked himself for admitting that, feeling like a child.

"You were..?" Ginger baited him as she batted her blue eyes at him. Ron was on pins and needles. "Absolutely ravishing!" she glowed.

Ron breathed a deep sigh of relief, but became even angrier with himself. What had I missed?!

"Here, I'll show you," Ginger seemed to be reading his thoughts as she brought one of her slender legs across his mid section and shifted herself atop him. Ron was convinced this was the best moment in his life.

. . . .

"Morning," Ginger said cheerily to George and Lee as she came into the flat's kitchen wearing nothing but one of Ron's oversized t-shirts. It just so happened to be a Chudley Cannon jersey.

George choked, fumbling at first, knocking his cup of coffee off the counter and sent it crashing to the floor with the sight of her like that. Lee Jordan fell straight over backwards in his chair with a whelp.

"M-morning..." George finally managed as he scrambled to clean up his mess, averting his gaze, afraid to look at her.

"Morning!" Lee sung from somewhere beneath the table.

"Looks like everyone has the case of the morning hangover," she moved to the cooler box like she owned the place.

"You could say that," George grimaced at the reminder. He must've look like shit.

"What's wrong with you two?" Ron soon followed her in, dressed now in some shorts.

"Good night last night?" George wiggled his brows at his brother. Ron's face turned redder than a tomato.

"The best!" Ginger answered as she began to pull a few random items out the fridge. Lee Jordan was meanwhile trying to scramble back into his seat as Ron shook his head at him, joining Ginger by the counter.

"Yeah, well next time you're not invited unless you've got a friend for me," George gave her a hard time, recalling all the noise she and his brother had made late into the morning.

"Sounds fair enough," Ginger winked at him.

"Whatcha making?" Ron asked.

"Ravena Wexin's Morning-After-Cure-All!" she stated. "One cup and everyone should be right as rain!"

"That so?" George came over as well to look on. This could come in handy.

"So..." she went on as she made their droughts. "Where's the rest of the Trio?" she asked him nonchalantly. "Thought you all were as thick as thieves, no?"

Ron frowned, crossing his arms across his chest as he turned to lean up against the counter, staring lost out the window. "Don't know exactly..." Ron sighed.

"Hmm," Ginger nodded. "Guess the two lovebirds wanted a little privacy after the long slog?" Ginger played her cards carefully.

"Humph!" Ron grunted. She played him well. "They're not..!" he started a little too defensively. He stopped abruptly, seeing Ginger narrow her eyes at him.

"Do I sense a little jealousy, Ronnie?" she played hurt.

"Not a chance!" Ron grabbed her by the waist and pulled his goddess to him. "Hermione had sent her parents to Australia as the war heated up. They've gone to fetch them back..."


. . . .

The market was bustling, but the stunning red head did not so much as glance at one of the hawkers as she passed them by at a swift pace. She hadn't been down this way in months, but knew the layout well enough to get herself around.

She turned right into an alley by Murdoch's, passed two more alleys that split off to the left before she turned again at the third. Thirty meters ahead on her right was the back to to the Sleeper's Inn.

There was a small pub on the ground floor in which she was to meet that oaf of a wizard, Fletcher. She saw him fidgeting around nervously at a table at the side of the room. Of course, he was in that hideous burgundy suit of his.

"You sure seem like a nervous little rat," Ginger announced her arrival harshly, taking a seat across from Mundungus. She did not bother to hide her contempt of him.

"Aho!" Mundungus jumped with her voice. Ginger just shook her head at him. "They came?!" Mundungus seemed on edge. Ginger studied him for a moment.

"What's going on Fletcher?" Ginger asked suspiciously.

Mundungus drew his chin up high. "Tha' none of your business, missy. Did ya ge' yourself in with them?!" he asked urgently.

"It was only the red head, Ron Weasley, and his brother George and one of their friends, Lee Jordan."

"And the other two?!" Fletcher leaned over the table nervously.

"They weren't there," Ginger turned away from him in her seat, flipping back the rolling locks of her hair.

"Well then, where they at?!" Mundungus's voice unintentionally began to rise.

"How would I know?!" Ginger's rose likewise in defense. "They said something about Australia... what's the big idea anyways?" she leaned in, speaking low but clear. "You up to no good, Fletcher? Drawing me in to something bad? I don't want any trouble, these three are like gods around here..."

"No, no," Mundungus feigned offense, leaning back in his seat with his palms held up. "No trouble. I've been looking out for those three for years. You just do your job, and I promise, you'll be well compensated, maybe even a hero yourself!" Mundungus wiggled his eyebrows at her. Ginger scoffed, leaning back in her seat as well, creating as much distance as she could from this scoundrel.

"Speaking of compensation. I got myself in. Went back with the Weasley boys. I'll be seeing Ron again tonight," Ginger looked pointedly at him.

"Good, good. Just keep me up to date!" Mundungus fiddled with his pouch of gold. "I need to know where the Potter kid is though. Find that out to for me and I'll double this," Mundungus slid a loaded pouch her way. Ginger picked it up and examined it.

"We agreed on fifty galleons!" she protested.

"We did," Mundungus admitted, "for information on all three, not just one. You're'a lucky I'm'a giv'n you that!"

"I told you, they're in Australia!" Ginger let her loss of patience flare.

"We'll see..."