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SIYE Time:6:15 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: 132986; Chapter Total: 16071
Awards: View Trophy Room




Author's Notes:
So, here's Ginny. :)

Thanks once again, to my favourite person in the world of HP fanfic, Chreechree.




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Family and Fortunes




“Buggering hell.”


Ginny threw down her quill in disgust and heaved a tired sigh. She rubbed her eyes wearily, stretched her arms out behind her head and gave a tremendous yawn. Tugging at her long red hair bound up in a thick ponytail, she glared sourly at the parchment in front of her.


Ginny normally loved her work at the Magical Law Enforcement Squad. Although she was not out in the field like the Aurors, she still enjoyed her job at the Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects. Ginny and her co-workers irreverently called themselves the “You Fake It, We Take It” Crew, behind their formidable boss’ back, of course.


Despite the fall of Voldemort, paranoia still gripped the more suggestible segment of the population, and those doing the suggesting enjoyed a brisk profit in the trade of spurious protective amulets and spells that resulted in unforeseen, often dangerous, results.


Just last month, St Mungo’s Spell Damage Ward had been full to bursting with wizards and witches who had been victims of a new potion that promised “Constant Vigilance!”; these unfortunate gullible souls had grown eyes in the back of their heads and other parts — including some unmentionable portions — of their body.


The manufacturer of the potion had been arrested earlier that week during a raid in Islington. The Aurors had become suspicious of the heavy amount of owl droppings around a certain flat and had decided to investigate. To their surprise, the flat had been home to a skinny, spotty young man, who was apparently single-handedly responsible for the sudden influx of wonky potions and dodgy talismans in Knockturn Alley.


The parchment currently giving Ginny a headache was one of the things that had been seized from that raid. It was covered with what looked like random scribbles; the only reason that the Aurors even confiscated it was the fact that the young man (who was identified as Olympus “Pus” Fletcher) had screamed bloody murder and hurled himself bodily at the very shocked female Auror who had inadvertently picked up the parchment.


Ginny couldn’t find the key to unlock the encryption, no matter how many ancient tomes she consulted. It was rare for her to be unable to make heads or tails of it as she was an excellent code breaker. She was one of the best, which was quite understandable as she spent most of her time cooped up in her office, coming out once in a while to eat, shower and sleep. Her boss was very impressed with her, and there was talk that she was up for a promotion.


Lately, however, she felt like she was drowning in paperwork, and the walls of her office seemed to be closing in on her. Maybe it was time for a holiday? She glanced down at her desk, which was overflowing with all sorts of parchment and books (and the occasional Chocolate Frog wrapper), and caught sight of the letter that had arrived that morning as she was about to leave for work. She picked it up and re-read the familiar scrawl of her eldest brother.


Dear Ginny,

How are you doing, sis? I need to ask a huge favour from you. Gringotts has assigned me and Fleur to a three-day assignment in Asia, and while we’d really like to have Michel and Amelie with us, it would be too dangerous. We’d leave them with Fleur’s family but they’re also going abroad. I know this is really short-notice, but could you help Mum take care of them for a while? I don’t want to burden her too much, and you know they love their Tante Gee.

Thanks in advance, Ginny! I’ll be dropping the children off at Mum’s tomorrow.

Love, your favourite brother,
Bill



Gin ny loved spending time with her nephew and niece. Those two were just too cute for words. Being the first of the Weasley and Delacour grandchildren, Michel and Amelie were impossibly coddled and fussed over, yet they had turned out to be sweet, unassuming children who were the pride and joy of their parents. Michel was two and a half years old, while Amelie was younger by around eleven months. Both were stunning, having the silvery-blonde hair and bright blue eyes of their mother.


Fortunately for everyone, they had inherited the easy-going charm of their father rather than the sometimes haughty demeanour of Fleur, although Ginny had to admit that her sister-in-law had changed a great deal and it had been ages — almost an entire month by Ginny's reckoning — since she had called Fleur by her old nickname, Phlegm.


Ginny smiled as she thought of Amelie and Michel. Maybe this was the break that she needed. No sooner had that crossed her mind when her boss, Mrs Caulfield, breezed through the door.


“Hullo, Ginevra. How are we doing with the translation of the parchment?”


Mrs Caulfield was a middle-aged witch with short black hair and a rather imposing way about her, and that wasn’t merely because of her enormous girth. She was one of the largest women that Ginny had ever seen, barring Madam Maxime. Ginny had been at a loss for words and frightened out of her wits at the sight of Mrs Caulfield bearing down on her like a female version of Grawp during her first day of work.


Ginny had to admit, however, that her boss was fair and honest, even though she was a tad demanding. Mrs Caulfield somewhat reminded her of a stouter version of Professor McGonagall, although Ginny was fairly certain that her former Headmistress would never be caught dead wearing blood-red dragonhide stiletto heels and royal purple robes trimmed with silvery Demiguise hair. Professor Sprout perhaps, but Professor McGonagall? Never.


She gave the older woman a bright smile. “Hello, Mrs Caulfield. I’m almost finished with the translation. There are still a few things that I have to revise but I’ll have it on your desk by tomorrow.”


Mrs Caulfield nodded absentmindedly. She was leafing through some parchments that she was carrying. “All right. As long as you have it done by next morning.” She turned to leave the office. “Oh, by the way, after this project, I’m going to need you to look into something else. You’ll be pretty busy in the next couple of days.”


Ginny took a deep breath. “Umm… Mrs Caulfield, I don’t think I can take the next case. Can you can assign it to Finnigan?”


“What do you mean, Ginevra?” Mrs Caulfield walked back into the room, her stilettos clicking on the floor. Ginny idly wondered how such tiny feet could support such a massive weight.


“I’m going to file for some holiday time. Something’s come up with the family.” Ginny mentally crossed her fingers that Mrs Caulfield would not raise a fuss. She knew the older woman relied on her to do most of the work around the office, so she wasn’t sure if she would be allowed to take some time off. She was hoping that being the boss' favourite employee would work to her advantage.


Mrs Caulfield pursed her lips and frowned. “Ginevra, you do realise that you have given me very little time to look for a replacement for you? You’re the best worker I have! I’m not sure if Finnigan is up to the job.”


“I’m sure Seamus is more than adequate. I’ve seen his work, and I couldn’t do any better myself.”


Her boss gave her an appraising glance for a long moment and then seemed to make up her mind all of a sudden. “Well, I suppose I could do without you for a while. Merlin knows that you haven’t had any time off since you’ve started to work here. When are you planning to leave?”


Ginny was surprised that Mrs Caulfield had actually noticed that. She was even more astonished that her boss was actually agreeing to let her go without putting up more of a fight. Quickly taking stock of the situation, Ginny boldly pushed her advantage. “Tomorrow afternoon?” she said hopefully.


“What? That soon?” Mrs Caulfield frowned again. “Hmmm. All right. Just make sure you do finish all your pending cases before you go on holiday.” Mrs Caulfield marched back to the door. “Bring Finnigan up to date and tell him that I’m expecting him to fill in for you, Ginevra.”


Ginny blinked. She had half-expected her request to be turned down flat, but apparently, her boss was in a generous mood today. “Thank you, Mrs Caulfield.” She smiled at the older woman, who acknowledged her with a curt nod before disappearing down the corridor.


Ginny attacked the parchment with renewed vigour and after several hours, she had managed to translate the rest of the mysterious symbols.


She laughed when she realised that the baffling code actually formed a love letter — and a rather passionate one at that. She blushed as she read through the racier parts of it. No wonder Olympus Fletcher had gone nuts when they took it away from him.


A distraction, in the form of Seamus Finnigan, popped into the room.


“Hiya, Ginny,” he said, sitting on the edge of her desk. He eyed the stack of parchment on her desk. “Still at it?”


“Actually, I was just about to pay you a visit,” she replied.


He gave her a roguish grin. “Oh? Have you finally decided you’ll go out with me?”


She grinned back at him. “Nope, sorry,” she said, then laughed heartily when he feigned a look of utter dejection and clutched at his chest.


Seamus was really loads of fun and quite good-looking, and that Irish brogue of his had been many a witch’s downfall. He was an outrageous flirt and spent a good deal of his time pursuing half, if not all, of the female staff under the age of thirty with an astonishing degree of success.


It was too bad that Ginny had never felt any sort of romantic interest in him. Seamus knew this and accepted it with good humour. Besides, Ginny suspected that the Irishman knew exactly why his chances of actually getting her to go out with him were slim to none. After all, he had gone to Hogwarts with her brother and…


“I need to ask you a favour,” she said abruptly, startled at the turn her thoughts had taken.


“Sure, I’ll do it,” answered Seamus promptly, straightening up and adjusting the four-leaf clover pin on the collar of his smart navy blue pinstriped robes.


“You don’t even know what it is!” protested Ginny.


He shrugged. “If it’s for you, darling, I’d do anything.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, pretending to leer at her.


“Prat. No, listen. I’m going on leave next week, and Mrs Caulfield asked me to tell you that you’ll be covering for me.” She looked at him expectantly. “Will that be all right?”


“Yes, of course, although it wounds me that you think I would say no,” he said teasingly.


Ginny rolled her eyes in amusement and spent the next couple of minutes chatting and showing Seamus some of the files that she had been working on. They had a good chuckle over the scandalous love letter and Seamus insisted on reading it out loud.


“Oh sweet enchantress with your eyes azure as the summer sky, your succulent lips and your buxom chest have bewitched me, and I fall ever deeper into the maelstrom of your indefinable pulchritude. The sweetness of your lily-white loins drives me mad with the desire to plunge my throbbing—”


“All right, stop it.” Ginny waved her hands in the air, giggling madly. “It sounds even bawdier when you read it.”


“It’s a bloody work of art. This bloke can really write!” said Seamus in admiration, and he insisted on copying it for reference. “Might come in handy in the future,” he said, winking at Ginny as he rolled up the parchment and then slid off her desk. “Well, I’m off. I’ve got a hot date with Christine.”


“Christine — the brunette from the Quill-Pool?”


“Yeah, you know…” Seamus traced an hourglass figure in the air with his hands. He winked at her again and waved good-bye. “You should go home, Ginny. You work too hard,” he called over his shoulder.


“Good-bye, Seamus,” said Ginny wryly. “Have fun on your date.”


“I always do!”


Shaking her head at Seamus’ retreating back, Ginny checked her watch and groaned. “Bloody hell.”


She rose from her desk and started stuffing various pieces of parchment into her already overloaded bag. Walking to the Apparition point, she closed her eyes and concentrated, turned smartly in place and arrived a few heartbeats later at the three-bedroom flat she shared with Hermione and Luna in Muggle London.


Ginny put her bag down on the sofa and kicked off her shoes. It was quiet in the flat. Where was everybody? Passing by Hermione’s bedroom, she was amused to see that the door was wide open and that the bed was still neatly made. Mum would have Kneazles if she knew how often Hermione was over at Ron’s place.


Ginny suddenly spotted Crookshanks perched on Hermione’s desk, calmly sharpening his claws on the spine of one of his owner’s beloved books.


“Crookshanks! No! Get away from that, you silly thing!” Ginny scolded the animal as she rushed into Hermione’s room. The ginger cat stopped scratching long enough to level an unruffled gaze at Ginny, before casually returning to its activity.


“Crookshanks!” Ginny shooed the cat away and rescued the book from further damage. There were only a few deep claw marks on the soft brown leather of International Magical Communities: A Short Treatise, Vol. XXXIX. Apparently Crookshanks hadn’t had enough time to inflict greater damage.


”Reparo!” muttered Ginny, and slid the volume in between International Magical Communities: A Short Treatise, Vol. XXXVIII and International Magical Communities: A Short Treatise, Vol. XXXX on the already overflowing bookshelf.


She looked around the room which was mostly done in what Hermione liked to call ‘earth tones’ and what Ginny liked to call ‘brown’. It could have doubled for the Hogwarts library. Ginny frequently teased Hermione that she half-expected Madam Pince to materialise from behind the bookshelves to demand that they keep their voices down and to stop defiling her precious books.


A picture on the desk caught her eye. She picked it up and stared into a photograph of Ron, Hermione, Harry and herself at the end of her sixth year, the year that Harry had finally rid the world of the plague known as Voldemort. All four of them were grinning and waving madly, the waters of the lake glinting behind them. If you looked long enough, a lazy tentacle would rise up from the surface of the lake, and the giant squid would also begin waving at the camera.


Ginny smiled wistfully. She loved this picture simply because Harry looked so carefree and handsome in it. They became really good friends that year, and she had thought that their friendship might have blossomed into something more once Harry had put down Voldemort. Sadly, after Harry destroyed the Dark Lord, he had gone away for almost a year due to his obligations to the Ministry; Ginny had not been too worried though — she herself had been busy finishing her last year at Hogwarts.


Harry, however, had then been drafted by the Wimbourne Wasps, and spent another two months in virtual lockdown at a rookie orientation program and training camp in Newcastle. She had managed to catch him twice at Sunday dinner at The Burrow, where he was casual and friendly and not the least bit romantic. Still, Ginny did not give up on Harry.


During her eighteenth birthday party, Harry gave her a season’s pass to his Quidditch games, saying that he hoped to see more of her. This made Ginny quite giddy with anticipation until she found out that he had also given all of her brothers the same thing.


The final blow to her hopes came during her mum’s birthday dinner last October. Ginny had been helping with the clean up when she overheard Ron asking Harry if he was planning to take up his teammate’s offer to set him up with a blind date. A queasy feeling in her stomach and a dull pain in her chest, she had hastily stepped out of the kitchen before she gave in to the impulse to go on a rampage and hex everything in sight.


She told herself repeatedly that Harry was within his rights to date whomever he wanted, but she was hard pressed not to wonder why his dating options didn’t seem to include her. Ginny had eventually accepted that she would merely be a friend to Harry and had to be contented with that. She threw herself in her work in order not to dwell too much on her heartache, and even started to go out a little — choosing carefully, dating men who were uncomplicated, but none of them had never lasted beyond one or two dates.


It seemed that no matter how much she scolded and raged at it, her stubborn heart simply refused to let go of Harry Potter.


Sighing, she put the picture down and walked out of Hermione’s room to make her way to the tiny but brightly lit and colourful kitchen. She found Luna crooning softly to herself while threading some Butterbeer corks through some silver wire.


“Hullo, Ginny,” the blonde girl said without lifting her eyes from her work.


“Hullo, Luna.”


Ginny shrugged out of her robes and plopped down into a chair beside her friend, who sat serenely at the kitchen table making several necklaces out of butterbeer corks. Luna had started a surprisingly successful small home business called Lovegood’s Snorkcrafts, which specialised in a complete line of butterbeer cork jewellery and sculpted figurines sold via owl-order catalogue.


“Have you had dinner yet?” she asked Luna, who had a tendency to get caught up in her ‘creations’ and often forgot to eat unless someone reminded her.


The former Ravenclaw shook her head and continued to contentedly make necklaces.


“Well, I’m too tired to cook. I’ll heat some of that Chinese takeaway that Hermione bought last night, shall I?”


Over egg rolls and mushu pork, the blonde girl showed Ginny her latest designs for her jewellery collection. Ginny was privately amused that most of the designs involved carvings of what she could only assume to be the infamous Crumple-Horned Snorkack.


Ginny reached for a fortune cookie and cracked it open. “‘Your heart’s greatest desire will soon be granted’,” she read out loud. She snorted disbelievingly. “What a load of—”


“I wouldn’t laugh, Ginny,” said Luna seriously. “The fortunes in these cookies were made by the great Chinese Seer, Quan Fu Zhang, who made nine hundred ninety-nine and a half accurate prophecies in his lifetime.”


Ginny was sure she was going to regret it, but she asked anyway. “Why nine hundred ninety-nine and a half?”


Luna reached for her own fortune cookie. “He choked on one whilst he was making another prediction. He was only able to say ‘The real father of the Empress’ baby is—’ before he keeled over and died.” She broke her cookie open. “Mine says, ‘You will receive news from a long-lost friend’. How interesting. I wonder how I lost whoever it is who’s lost.”


Ginny gaped at her dotty friend and then shrugged. Luna was Luna. “Oh, that reminds me, I got a letter from Bill today.” She told Luna about staying over at The Burrow to take care of Bill’s children.


“That’s nice.” Luna smiled dreamily. “I can spend the time alone purging the flat of Aquavirius maggots.”


Ginny gave a start. She hadn’t thought about leaving Luna alone. “Did Hermione say how long she’ll be at Ron’s?”


“No, but she said something about going to see Harry play against the Titsall Tourniquets,” said Luna vaguely. “Or was it the Titillating Troubadours?”


“The Tutshill Tornados,” corrected Ginny automatically, feeling a twinge of remorse that she could not bring herself to watch Harry play — could not act like a supportive friend during his first season. When he had owled her if she would come to his match today, she had begged off, pretending to be too busy with work — the same excuse she had given every time he invited her to his games. In truth, she was trying not to see him if she could help it, so that she would not have to stop herself from wallowing in self-pity at the fact that Harry did not like her that way.


Besides, if she went to his matches, the sight of Harry looking dead sexy in his Wasps uniform would probably send her into a tizzy. It had been known to happen before — like that highly embarrassing incident when she had walked into the fireplace (which was mercifully not lit) in the Gryffindor common room simply because Harry had pushed up the sleeves of his jumper, exposing his forearms. Luckily for her, Harry had not noticed as he had bent to retrieve a quill that had fallen under the table, and it was Hermione, who was practically shaking with suppressed laughter, who had helped her struggle out of the fireplace.


Ever since then, Ginny had always made sure that she had her conniptions in private.


“… and then going to dinner afterward, it being their anniversary and all,” continued Luna, holding up her chopsticks like they were divining rods.


Ginny shook her head to remove the tantalising images of Harry looking gorgeous and delectable on his broom and cleared up the takeaway boxes. “I don’t know why Hermione doesn’t simply move in with him. She practically lives there anyway.” She brought out the tea kettle and tapped it with her wand.


“I think your mother would have something to say about that if she knew that Ronald and Hermione were having at it at every possible opportunity,” commented Luna in such a wry tone that Ginny couldn’t help but giggle.


“Merlin forbid that she ever find out!” agreed Ginny, laughing.


Luna also stood up and began swaying gently back and forth, holding the chopsticks in front of her.


“Erm, what are you doing, Luna?” Ginny had to ask, even though she told herself she should be accustomed to the other girls’ odd behaviour by now.


Luna started walking around the table, humming weirdly. “Shhh. Be very, very quiet. I’m hunting maggots.” She left the kitchen, completely lost in her unusual quest.


Ginny looked around apprehensively then laughed softly at herself. The kettle whistled, and she poured the heated water onto some loose tea leaves in her cup. After letting the leaves steep for a few seconds, Ginny took a sip, and promptly spat it out again. The water tasted like mould. She sniffed the kettle carefully and realised that Luna had probably used it to make one of her strange Gurdyroot comfits again.


Opting instead for an orange fizzy drink (Hermione kept plenty of those in stock) from the refrigerator, Ginny Summoned some parchment and a Self-Inking Quill from her bag. She penned a bright, cheery reply to Bill, saying that she would be more than happy to help mind his children.


She walked to the window, where her owl, Icarus, sat in his cage, hooting softly. Ginny opened the cage door and Icarus hopped onto her arm.


“Hullo, Icky,” she crooned, stroking the owl’s head. Icarus had been a gift from Mr and Mrs Weasley on Ginny’s eighteenth birthday. He was a bit ungainly and had a tendency to get moody at times, but Ginny loved him anyway because he reminded Ginny strongly of Errol. Sadly, the old Weasley family owl had finally flown off into The Great Owlery in the Sky last year after an accident involving a closed kitchen window, a mysteriously open bottle of Ogden’s Old Firewhisky and a very drunk garden gnome.


“You think you’re up to a trip to France?” The owl hooted mournfully, and, if Ginny hadn’t known any better, she would have sworn that Icarus had just rolled his eyes. “Oh well, I suppose I could ask Ron if I could borrow Pig…” she trailed off, hiding a smile as she began placing Icarus back in his cage.


The tawny owl gave an indignant hoot, snatched the letter from Ginny’s hands then launched himself out of the window. “If I’m not here when you get back, go straight to The Burrow, all right?” she called out to Icarus.


After narrowly avoiding a lamp post, several startled pedestrians, and a big red lorry with an advert for Lightning Bolt Lozenges (Zap That Sore Throat Away!) on its side, the owl finally got his bearings and sailed away into the night.


Ginny finished tidying up and went to her room. She was knackered and determined to catch up on her sleep. When she put her head on her pillow and closed her eyes, however, all she could see was Harry on his broom, smiling and blowing kisses at her.


‘Your heart’s greatest desire will soon be granted’,” she whispered into the still night air. She turned to her side and muttered “Yeah, right,” and soon fell into a deep slumber.

*

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