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SIYE Time:9:13 on 29th March 2024
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The Right Time
By cwarbeck

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Category: Alternate Universe, Post-Hogwarts
Characters:All, All, Harry/Ginny
Genres: Fluff, General, Humor
Warnings: None
Story is Complete
Rating: PG-13
Reviews: 615
Summary: Harry had promised himself that when he ultimately got rid of the Dark Lord, he would finally tell Ginny how he really felt about her. Regrettably, fate seemed to have other plans for both of them. But then again, perhaps fate was merely waiting for the right moment to come along.
Hitcount: Story Total: 132988; Chapter Total: 14188
Awards: View Trophy Room




Author's Notes:
Thirteen days to Deathly Hallows and counting...

I have to say at this point that there is a possibility that I won't be able to post all the chapters to this story before Book 7 is released, but I'm hoping that won't be the case. Anyway, I hope you'll still read even if I don't manage to do so.


Thanks to Chreechree.




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A Spot of Tea





“Well, Harry, it’s good to see you. How are you doing?”


“I’m fine, Moony.” Harry put his tea cup down and beamed at his surrogate godfather. “Couldn’t be better, actually.”


Remus Lupin peered over his own cup, looking surprised at the cheerful note in Harry’s voice. “Really? Isn’t your injury bothering you?”


“Nope.” Harry absently raised his hand to touch the tender spot behind his ear but hastily put it down when he caught sight of Mrs Weasley shaking her head and frowning slightly at him as she hovered about them, placing plate after plate of scones and biscuits and crumpets on the kitchen table. “I still can’t understand why I wasn’t allowed to play Quidditch. I haven’t felt a thing since they released me from St Mungo’s.”


“Well, you did get a great big thumping on your ruddy head,” declared Tonks, as she dumped herself into a seat beside her husband and grabbed a ginger newt off a plate. “Personally,” she commented as she chewed noisily, “I don’t know why they’re so worried either. I could’ve told them that your skull’s so bloody thick that even a great big lump like McLaggen wouldn’t be able to do much damage.” She swallowed her biscuit and smiled widely at Harry.


“Thank you, Tonks,” said Harry dryly. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”


Tonks waved an airy hand and almost knocked over the teapot. Luckily, her husband was already used to her clumsiness and managed to move the rest of the tea service before she could destroy anything else.


“However, I think there’s another reason why you’re in such a chipper mood, isn’t there?” Tonks arched a vivid pink eyebrow at him suggestively, her eyes flicking towards the living room where Ginny was working on what appeared to be a massive and complicated art project together with the children.


From his vantage point, it seemed like they were making a gigantic horse, or maybe it was a spider; it was difficult to tell since all he could see was what looked like an appendage of some sort. Ginny was patiently guiding Michel as he fashioned a leg (or was it an antennae?) out of some back issues of the Prophet. Seeming to sense his gaze on her, she looked up, smiled, and waved at him.


Harry grinned and waved back. He was still amazed that he had got up the nerve to ask her out and that she had not turned him down. He was really looking forward to spending time alone with her. Harry was unaware that he was still staring at Ginny long after she had gone back to helping Michel until Remus gave an amused little cough, and he turned to find Remus and Tonks openly smirking at him.


Blushing at being caught so obviously mooning over Ginny, Harry opened his mouth to say something but became distracted when a rather cold and very sticky hand landed on his arm. Startled, he looked down into the dark eyes of Remus’ and Tonks’ two-year old son, Randall. Harry’s godson, who strongly resembled his father but had his mother’s heart-shaped face, gave him a winning smile and proceeded to climb up his lap, leaving gluey handprints all over his jeans and shirt.


“Randall, what did Mummy say about using people as human towels?” scolded Tonks, pointing her wand at Harry and cleaning off his clothes. “Oh Merlin, I’m sorry, Harry!”


“That’s okay,” said Harry, smiling at the miniature version of Remus. “No harm done.” He offered a biscuit to the little brown-haired boy, who took it happily and chewed on it as noisily as his mother had been doing a while ago.


“I’ll take him, Tonks. You stay here with Harry and Remus. Come on Randall, there’s a love,” coaxed Mrs Weasley, and Randall unhesitatingly toddled off into her arms. Mrs Weasley wiped his hands with a tea towel and set off for the living room, where they joined Ginny, Amelie and Michel.


“Thanks, Molly!” called out Tonks. “So, what were we talking about again?” she asked Harry and her husband.


“We were discussing the fact that our boy here seems to be quite in good spirits nowadays,” said Remus with a small grin at Harry.


“Ah, yes. And from the expression on Ginny’s face when I was talking to her a while ago, she’s pleased as punch too,” said Tonks slyly. “In fact, she asked me if I could go with her to London tomorrow to shop for some dress robes. Anything going on between the two of you then? Something hot and heavy? Are we dealing with total, utter, wanton debauchery?” She leaned forward eagerly, upsetting the marmalade pot in front of Remus with her elbow. “Details! I want details!”


“Hot and heavy?” Harry shook his head ruefully, using a serviette to clean up the orange marmalade puddling on the table. “Hardly. I’m simply escorting Ginny to a wedding.”


“Oooh, a wedding!” Tonks clapped her hands. “Who’s getting married?”


“A girl we knew at Hogwarts, Sylvia Vane.”


“I remember Sylvia. She was in Gryffindor, wasn’t she?” said Remus, carefully removing the marmalade pot out of Tonks’ reach. “I didn’t know that Ginny was good friends with her.”


“I don’t think they were, but they were dorm-mates for seven years, and I suppose that counts for something. I never heard Ginny mention her name though, and I barely knew who she was. Her younger cousin, however…” Harry shuddered.


“Who? Little Romilda?” Lupin asked, breaking out into a wide grin. “Ah, I do recall her asking an unusual amount of questions about curse scars — How could one form? Are they always shaped like a lightning bolt? Did it indicate virility and the ability to produce hardy offspring?”


The Lupins laughed as Harry scowled fiercely at Remus. “Right little stalker, that one,” he muttered, screwing up his face as he recalled some of the more daring stunts that Romilda had pulled, including the one where she had sneaked up behind him to cut off a chunk of his hair while he was supposedly revising in the library with Ginny.


Due to the fact that he had been too busy watching Ginny twirl a lock of her hair around her finger as she endeavoured to memorise the ingredients for Amortentia, he hadn’t even noticed anything was amiss until Luna Lovegood had asked him at dinner if he was attempting to begin a new fashion trend by having a bald patch on the back of his head.


Tonks sighed wistfully. “I love weddings. They’re so romantic. I always cry at them. I bawled like a baby at Hestia’s wedding, remember that, Remus?”


“Yes, but that was probably because you tripped over Moody’s wooden leg and fell headfirst into some rose bushes,” her husband said, a smile on his worn face. “We had the worst time removing some of those thorns, if I recall correctly.”


Tonks’ face became as pink as her hair. “Oh yeah, right.” She grinned at Harry. “Anyway, where’s the wedding going to be?”


“Italy.”


“Italy?” Remus looked taken aback. “Where in Italy?”


“I’m not sure,” admitted Harry slowly. He hadn’t even thought to ask Ginny. All that had mattered at that time was getting her to agree to have him — and not Infamous Seamus Finnigan — accompany her to the wedding.


Harry was rather proud of that little feat; he had actually managed to speak clearly for once, instead of blurting out random words and phrases that only succeeded in confusing the heck out of everyone, including himself.


All right, way to go, Potter!


“Did your Healer say that you could travel long distances?” said Remus, interrupting the self-congratulatory party that Harry was indulging in.


Harry paused in the middle of giving himself an imaginary pat on the back and frowned. Remus had a point. “I reckon I should ask Healer Cosmas if I can travel by Portkey, but if I can’t, I’m going to find some other way to go to this wedding,” he said determinedly.


“Bloody hell, Harry, did you tell everyone already?”


They all turned to see Ron hanging his cloak on a peg by the back door of the kitchen. Ron sat down beside Harry and immediately pulled a plate of scones towards him. Remus poured him some tea, while Tonks passed him the other marmalade pot, this one containing blackcurrant preserve.


“Hello, Ron, nice of you to drop by,” Harry wryly greeted his best friend. “What am I supposed to have told everyone?”


“Y’know, that thing with Hermione and me,” answered Ron, dipping a scone into his tea.


“Which one?” asked Harry with a cheeky grin. “Although, you know, Ron, some of those things are probably best kept between you and Hermione.”


“Ha ha. You’re a real comedian, Harry,” retorted Ron, pointing his now soggy scone at Harry, who laughingly shielded his face with his hands. “It’s — you know — that thing that I was going to ask her about except she’s always too busy,” said Ron, moving his eyebrows in a strange, complicated pattern that made Harry quite dizzy just by looking at them.


He stared at his best friend for a full minute before he realised what Ron was trying to convey with the ingenious use of eyebrow semaphores.


“No, Ron, I did not tell anyone about your good news.”


“Oh,” said Ron, his ears turning bright red.


“What good news is that?” asked Tonks curiously.


Ron ducked his head and mumbled something into his tea.


“What?”


Ron cleared his throat awkwardly. “I said, I’m going to ask Hermione to marry me tonight.”


A high-pitched squeal came from the doorway and Mrs Weasley launched herself at her youngest son. “Oh Ron! That’s wonderful news! You’ll finally make an honest woman out of Hermione!”


Harry and the rest of the group began laughing at the immensely guilty expression that immediately appeared on Ron’s face as Mrs Weasley released him.


“What — what do you mean, Mum?” said Ron, looking everywhere but at her.


“Oh tosh, Ronald,” sniffed Mrs Weasley disparagingly. “I don’t know where you get the idea that I don’t know things. I’ve never said anything because I know that Hermione’s a nice girl and that you love each other dearly, but I’m glad that you’ve finally decided to propose like a proper gentleman and not let her continue to be some sort of kept woman.”


Tonks and Remus burst into laughter, and Ron turned purple due to the fact that the scone he had nervously crammed into his mouth had lodged in his throat. Harry, trying to suppress his own chuckles, finally took pity on his best friend. He stood and began whacking Ron repeatedly across the shoulder blades, until the tall redhead was able to breathe normally once again.


Mrs Weasley rolled her eyes expressively, reminding Harry of Ginny.


“Honestly, Ron. It’s not as if I’m not fully aware of my children’s sex lives. Why, didn’t I tell George that he shouldn’t get involved with that girl he met at The Leaky Cauldron? But no, he insisted on seeing that trollop. Said that she had a heart of gold underneath it all. Ha!” Mrs Weasley snorted loudly. “She was cheaper than the wine that Dung buys at that dodgy pub he hangs about in. And what did George get for his trouble? A nasty itch in his bits, that’s what!”


“Mu- Mum!” protested a scandalised Ron. “Bloody hell,” he muttered, covering his face with his large hands as Tonks began pounding the table with her fist as tears of laughter streamed down her face. Remus looked quite embarrassed, and Harry was sure that his own ears were ablaze. He never thought that Mrs Weasley could be so outspoken about these things.


“What?” huffed Mrs Weasley. “And don’t swear, Ron!”


Ron slowly shook his head in disbelief. “Mum, you shouldn’t be talking about your sons’ bits like that in polite company!”


Tonks spoke up, grinning from ear to ear. “I can be quite rude, Ron, if you want me to be.”


“You know what I mean, Tonks,” Ron said impatiently. He turned to Lupin, who immediately put up his hands, as if to protest his innocence. “Remus, tell your wife to shut it.”


Mrs Weasley put her hands on her hips and glared irately at her youngest son. “Who do you think brewed up the potion to get rid of George’s awful-smelling boils? And besides, may I remind you, Ron, that I have seen enough of yours and your brothers’ bits to write a book about them!”


With that parting shot, she gave another disdainful sniff and left the room, brushing up against Ginny, who had entered the kitchen with her hands held out in front of her. Harry could see that they were covered in glue and small pieces of newspaper.


“What’s happening?” asked Ginny, a puzzled look on her face. She went to the sink and washed her hands clean. “What did I miss? Why does Ron look like he’s been run over by an Erumpent?” She sat down in front of Harry and watched in enjoyment as Tonks clutched her stomach, occasionally letting out small wheezes as she rocked back and forth with laughter.


Harry leaned forward conspiratorially. “Your mum’s been regaling us with stories of your brothers’ — erm — bedroom escapades.”


Ginny sniggered. “Oh dear. I suppose she’s told you lot about Mary, has she?” she said, her eyes full of amusement.


“Was that the name of George’s last girlfriend? Mary?” asked Harry, just as George and Fred strode into the kitchen, wearing matching electric blue leather jackets.


“Why are you talking about Mary?” said George as he pulled out a chair. “Oh bugger, Mum hasn’t been going on about that again, has she?”


“Going on about what?” asked Fred, who in turn took a seat beside a muttering Ron. “Oh good! You haven’t eaten all of Mum’s scones yet!” he told Ron, and grabbed one off his younger brother’s plate.


“Mary,” said Ginny with raised eyebrows. Harry saw her glance his way, and they exchanged amused smiles.


“Oh.” Fred shot his twin a sly look. “Mary. As in that Muggle, Typhoid Mary. Only instead of typhoid she spread—”


“Shut it,” growled George. “If I remember correctly, you went right spare when she chose me over you.”


“Well, now I thank the Founders that she did. Those boils were dead nasty,” retorted Fred. “Green and oozing, and they smelled something awful too — kind of like a mixture of dragon dung and boiled cabbage,” he added, sending Tonks tumbling off her chair as she erupted into fresh gales of laughter.


“Please, I’m eating here,” begged Remus, who had been in the middle of biting into a buttered crumpet. He put it back on his plate, where it was immediately snatched up by Fred.


“Although they did glow in the dark when you turned off the light, and they weren’t the only parts of dear old George’s anatomy that glowed, if you know what I mean,” volunteered Fred, winking exaggeratedly at the whole group.


“So, we heard that we’re going to have a wedding again!” said George at the top of his voice, trying to drown out the sounds of Tonks’ hysterical laughter.


Fred wiped a fake tear from his eye and clapped his younger brother on the shoulder. “Didn’t know you had it in you, Ronniekins.”


Ron’s head shot up, and he looked at the twins suspiciously. “How’d you two know that?” He gave Harry an accusatory glower.


“Hey, mate, I’ve already said that I haven’t told anyone your plans,” protested Harry. “Besides, you only told me the other day, remember? And this is the first time I’ve seen the twins or anyone else.”


George smirked. “We have ways of finding out these things,” he declared. “We certainly won’t tell you that we know the bloke you bought your engagement ring from.”


“Yeah, you’ll never get that information out of us,” said Fred staunchly. “Oh, and I most assuredly won’t divulge the fact that Angelina told me the other night that you asked for her advice.” He nodded at Ron. “Nice rock, by the way. How much did you get it for?”


“You’re asking Hermione to marry you, Ron?” Ginny asked excitedly. “Why didn’t you tell me about it?” she demanded.


“I was going to wait until she actually said yes,” grumbled Ron. “I didn’t want to say anything in case she turned me down.”


“What nonsense!” exclaimed Ginny, while Tonks scoffed loudly as she picked herself up from off the floor. “Of course she’ll accept! When are you planning to pop the question?”


Ron blanched, as if he had suddenly remembered something very important. “What time is it?” he asked in an apprehensive voice.


Harry glanced at his watch. “Half past five, Ron.” He looked up to see a panicked expression form on Ron’s freckled face.


“Bugger it all!” moaned Ron. “I’m late again! I’m supposed to pick Hermione up from the Ministry in fifteen minutes!” He hastily stood up and grabbed his cloak. “And I still need to change my clothes!” He ran to the living room, where the others heard him shout out a quick good-bye to Mrs Weasley before he disappeared into the Floo.


“Well, that was amusing,” said George. He looked around the kitchen as if searching for some other source of entertainment, his eyes lighting up when his gaze landed on Harry. “Ah, Harry, my good man! How are you doing? I heard about what that tosser McLaggen did.”


“Yeah, and I heard that our little Ginny has volunteered to play nursemaid to you,” chimed in Fred, grinning at his sister, who scowled back at him.


“Has she shown you her bedside manner yet?” asked George with a suggestive wink. “It’ll do wonders for any bloke’s flagging — er — spirits.”


Harry chanced a look at Ginny, whose face, he was not surprised to see, was beginning to turn rather red, but he didn’t know if it was because she was embarrassed or if she was angry at her twin brothers. Probably both, he decided in amusement.


He dearly wanted to say that yes, please, he would very much like to see her bedside manner, but he didn’t think her brothers would appreciate him voicing out his yearning for the youngest Weasley.


“No, I haven’t,” said Ginny calmly, despite the two bright spots of colour on her cheeks, “but I intend to show Harry just how excellent it is in the very near future. That is, if Harry actually wants to experience the benefits of my healing — um — touch.”


She reached over and covered his hand with hers, her fingers slowly rubbing circles on the back of his hand. Her brown eyes were glinting with mischief, and Harry thought he saw the slightest hint of a challenge in them.


Harry swallowed nervously at the sensations that Ginny’s nimble fingers were eliciting. Deciding that two could play this game, he grinned at her, and at the identical dumbfounded looks on the twins’ faces.


“Of course, Ginny,” he replied casually, turning his hand upside down and capturing hers with it. Her eyes widened in surprise, but she did not try to pull away. He squeezed her hand gently, rubbing his thumb across her knuckles, watching as her face became even more flushed, and the gleam in her eyes became even more pronounced. “When were you planning to let me sample your bedside manner, eh?”


Ginny tilted her head and arched an eyebrow at him. “Hmmm… soon, Harry, very soon,” she promised, her voice low and seductive.


Anticipatory thrills ran up and down Harry’s spine. He looked straight into her eyes and quite promptly forgot that there were other people in the room, including two of her brothers.


I should have kissed her when I had the chance! he berated himself as he remembered their picnic lunch by the pond earlier that day. His gaze drifted once again to Ginny's mouth, which looked soft and inviting, and wondered if he dared do what he so badly wanted to do.


A loud clearing of the throat dragged him from his utterly inappropriate thoughts of throwing Ginny onto the kitchen table and ravishing her right then and there.


“All right, you two, break it up. There are children in the other room, you know.”


Harry abruptly let go of Ginny’s hand and blinked up at Remus, who was smiling indulgently at him. Tonks’ eyes had widened to saucers, and she kept switching her gaze back and forth between him and Ginny. Fred and George still looked stunned, but as Harry watched, their shock slowly turned into expressions of unholy glee. Ginny was blushing quite spectacularly, and was staring down at the hand he had been holding a few seconds ago. Harry peered at her, concerned that maybe he had been a bit brash, but he was relieved when she looked up again, a small smile on playing on her lips.


“Well!” said George, chirpily. “I reckon we’ll have another wed-”


Harry was saved from any further teasing when Mrs Weasley, followed by the children, came back into the room. Michel was holding something large, purple and multi-legged in his arms.


“Unca Fed! Unca Jo!” Amelie scampered into a waiting George’s arms. Remus picked up his son, and Michel went straight to Harry to show him their “creation”.


“Look at what we made, Uncle ‘Arry.” Michel thrust it into Harry’s hands and waited patiently for him to comment.


“Oh, uh, WOW! Look at that! It’s — um — it’s a very nice — er — a very nice…”


It was actually rather frightening, Harry thought idly, as he tried to identify what sort of creature Michel had made. He gingerly poked a protuberant eyeball with his wand and retracted it hurriedly when the eye seemed to twitch a little. Harry glanced helplessly over to Ginny, who appeared to be struggling not to laugh.


“Your Blast-Ended Skrewt came out very well, Michel,” she said admiringly, with a smirk in Harry’s direction.


Merci, Tante Gee,” said Michel, smiling happily at her.


“Show Uncle Harry the marvellous little sucker you made,” she encouraged him.


To Harry’s amusement, Michel cheerfully turned the Skrewt over to display its ‘sucker’ before asking, “Maman like it?”


“Yes, I’m sure Maman would love it,” agreed Ginny, ruffling Michel’s hair. “Put it on her pillow first thing when you go home. D’accord?


The little boy nodded with pleasure and ran to show the others his work. The twins praised the Skrewt effusively, and Fred animated the thing, making the children shriek in delight when it proceeded to wreak havoc on the tea things, the ‘sucker’ making slurping noises as it made contact with spilt tea.


“You’re evil, you know that?” said Harry, shaking his head at Ginny and smiling. Her sense of humour was something that he had always liked about her.


“You’ve got me all wrong, Harry,” she protested, her eyes laughing back at him. “I’m merely cultivating his creative nature. Fleur will be thrilled to see that her son is un artiste.


“I’m sure she will, and she’ll probably be doubly delighted that it was their Tante Gee who was the motivation for his artistic talents.”


“She should be,” said Ginny archly. “Why, I’m an inspiration for all Wizardkind!” She did a little pirouette, laughing as she did so.


Harry took in the graceful curve of her neck and the gentle swell of her hips. “That you are, Ginny,” he murmured in appreciation, looking into her bright brown eyes. She coloured prettily as she gazed back at him. “That you are.”


*




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