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The Right Time | ||||||
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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: 133200; Chapter Total: 15575 Awards: View Trophy Room Author's Notes: Thanks to Chreechree. |
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As the off-key whistling of Ron faded away, Harry became very aware of the fact that for the first time in a very long time, he was standing in very close proximity to Ginny, and that there was no one else around to disturb them. So, instead of engaging her in intelligent conversation like any other normal person, Harry became preoccupied once again by her hair — the bright copper strands that had distracted him to no end during their Hogwarts days had darkened to a rich, warm auburn colour, and it fell in soft waves that framed her pretty face perfectly. He hastily stuffed his hands into the back pockets of his jeans in order to stop himself from touching the loose strand of hair that curled tantalisingly against her smooth cheek. “…Harry?” The sound of his name startled him, and he belatedly became mindful of the fact that Ginny was saying something to him. With some difficulty, he managed to shift his attention away from the faint smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose and tried to appear like he had been listening all along and not mooning over her like a lovestruck teenager. “Sorry?” Ginny seemed amused at his expression, which Harry suspected bordered on the gormless. “Are you quite certain you’re okay? I think that thumping you received from McLaggen has made your brains a bit wonky.” “Well, erm, I was… distracted,” he said, offering her an apologetic grin. “By what?” Harry watched in fascination as her silky hair swung about her shoulders while she looked around the room. “It’s just you and me.” “Precisely,” muttered Harry under his breath. “What was that, Harry?” He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Um, nothing. Anyway, what was your question again?” Ginny cast a penetrating gaze at him before she shrugged her shoulders. “I asked you how long you’ll be staying over.” She removed her work robes and draped them neatly over the back of a chair. Harry saw that she was wearing slim-fitting black trousers and a long-sleeved turquoise shirt that complimented her milky complexion. She moved to settle herself comfortably on the sofa, kicking off her shoes and tucking her feet under her. “About a week, if my Healer has his way,” he said resignedly, sitting down beside her and angling his body so that it was slightly facing hers. “It’s nothing, really. I’m fine. I don’t understand why everyone’s making such a big deal out of it. I mean, I had worse injuries when we were still in Hogwarts.” “Well, you were still in the prime of your youth back then,” teased Ginny, laughing softly at him and shifted to mimic his position. Harry liked the way that her eyes seemed to sparkle when she laughed. He had not had the opportunity to see them up close for a while now. Then what she had said registered in his brain and he narrowed his eyes. “Wait, what do you mean I was in the prime of my youth back then?” he asked, pretending to scowl at her. “What am I now? A barmy old codger?” “Oh yes, you’re quite the old man now. That’s why they’re so worried about you. You must be — what? Forty? Forty-five?” she said impishly. “Very funny, Ginny,” he retorted, although he could not help but chuckle along with her. Her laughter was infectious. “If I’m forty-five, then that would make you an old maid at forty-four years old, since you’re only a year younger than me.” “How do you know that I’m an old maid, Harry?” She tilted her head and arched her eyebrows at him. “For all you know, I could be having a torrid and highly scandalous affair with my filthy rich and very much married boss.” Ginny flung her arms out dramatically. “Or I could have a passionate Latin lover or two waiting for me back at my flat!” she declared fervently before she collapsed against the sofa, laughing heartily. Harry knew that Ginny was merely making a joke, but he still felt like he had been punched in the gut. He realised that he had absolutely no idea if she did have a boyfriend, because he had never wanted to find out. Stop it, he scolded himself. You have no right to be jealous. You’re merely friends with her, right? Still, he could not help but feel the slow burn of jealousy as he thought of Ginny in the arms of some other man — married, single, Latin or otherwise. “Besides, when women are in their forties, they’re at their sexual peak, whereas men have already crashed and burned by the time they’re past eighteen,” continued Ginny in a tone reminiscent of Professor McGonagall. She then blinked several times as if she had only realised what she had said, and then her cheeks became slightly pink and she coughed self-consciously. “At least that’s what last week’s Witch Weekly said,” she clarified hastily, not looking directly at Harry. “Luna subscribes to it, you see, and sometimes she leaves it lying around open in the loo or in the living room, so I may, on occasion, happen to glance at it. I don’t actually read it or anything like that.” She paused to take a breath, and then Ginny bowed her head and fidgeted with the hem of her shirt. Harry stared at her, nonplussed at the turn the conversation had taken. Fortunately, any embarrassing reactions his body might have had to the enticing images of Ginny at her sexual peak that were currently flitting through his brain were forestalled when heavy footsteps were heard pounding down the stairs. Ron’s lanky frame soon came into view, an old, neon orange Chudley Cannons hat jammed over his vivid hair. “Look what I found! I thought Mum threw it out ages ago!” He pointed proudly to the hat, before sitting down in an armchair opposite Harry and Ginny. “Merlin, I’m starving. Isn’t dinner ready yet?” Ron put his feet up on the table again. “So, what’s up with you, Ginny? Still married to your work?” Ginny made a face. “I enjoy my work, Ron. It’s very interesting.” “Yeah, but that’s all you ever do. You’re almost as bad as Hermione sometimes, but at least she manages to go out with me once in a while.” “There are more important things in life than going out, Ron.” Harry felt his heart leap at Ginny’s words. She was not seeing anyone right now! Ginny reached into the pocket of her trousers and brought out an elastic which she used to tie her hair back. “’Sides, I don’t think going out with a nutter like you counts as having a social life,” she pointed out, tapping her chin as if considering something of great import. “I suppose it would be more of a punishment for past transgressions in a previous life.” “Ha ha. You’re a right bundle of laughs, Ginny.” Ron snorted in disgust. “You’re like Harry over here. He’s a famous Quidditch star and all that, but does he use it to his advantage to get the girls? No!” He sighed melodramatically. “His lovelife’s absolute rubbish.” Dragging his gaze from the fascinating way that Ginny’s scooped neckline accentuated the smooth column of her neck, Harry countered Ron’s statement. “Well, Ginny’s right, mate. There are more important things in life than going out.” Like waiting for the love of your life to begin noticing you again, he added silently, meeting Ginny’s curious gaze with one of his own. “Why would I want to go out with the sort of girl who only likes me for my fame? I want a girl who really likes me for who I really am, not merely because I’m Harry Potter.” “I think I know someone who fits that description, and wouldn’t you know it, she’s sitting right— ouch!” yelped Ron. Ginny had suddenly leaned forward and given him a resounding smack on the arm. “What the bloody hell was that for?” he cried, rubbing at the sore spot. “Sorry, I thought I saw a Doxy there,” said Ginny smoothly. Harry was mildly surprised and more than a little intrigued when a very light blush slowly made its way across her cheeks. Ginny averted her eyes and stood up quickly, slipping her feet back into her shoes. “Well, I’d better see if Mum needs any help in the kitchen,” she announced. Ron, who was still massaging his arm, grunted. “You do that.” Ginny stuck her tongue out at him. Harry rose to his feet as well. “I’ll go with you, Ginny,” he offered. “No, no.” She gently pushed him down again, sending pleasurable warmth through him where her hand had touched his shoulder. Was he imagining things, or did her hand linger for just a bit longer than necessary? “You rest, old timer.” She gave a small smile and headed toward the kitchen, leaving a somewhat befuddled Harry with a hugely smirking Ron. “What?” he asked his best friend. “Oh, nothing,” said Ron, and crossed his arms behind his head. “Merely wondering how long it’ll be before you remove your head from your arse and admit that you still fancy my baby sister.” “What are you on about, Ron?” blustered Harry, feeling his ears grow warm. “I don’t fancy Ginny.” “All right, you don’t fancy her,” said Ron, looking far too smug for Harry’s comfort. “You’re just very very much in like with her.” Harry opened his mouth and closed it again. He heaved a resigned sigh. “Am I that obvious, then?” “Well, it’s hard to ignore the fact that you’ve only been staring at her like the last piece of treacle tart ever since she got here.” Ron grinned as Harry groaned and leaned back on the sofa, pinching the bridge of his nose. “C’mon, mate. Why don’t you go ask her out? Hermione and I’ve always wondered why you two never got together after you got rid of U-No-Poo.” “I don’t know, Ron,” confessed Harry. “I really wanted to — I still do, in fact — but I got the impression that Ginny wasn’t interested in dating anyone.” Ron looked completely mystified. “Huh? Wherever did you get that daft idea?” “Um, I might have overheard Ginny and Hermione talking on the porch during Ginny’s birthday party.” At Ron’s raised eyebrows, Harry said defensively, “It was purely an accident! It wasn’t like I was lurking by the window, staring at Ginny and eavesdropping on them.” “Right,” said Ron sardonically. “Of course not.” Harry glared at him. “Anyway, Ginny told Hermione that she wasn’t interested in going out with anyone.” He sighed glumly. “I took it that included me. Besides, I hardly get to see her, and when I do, she always says she’s busy with work. She’s never even come to one my matches,” complained Harry. “Why don’t you just grab her and go snog somewhere?” Ron paused and looked a bit ill. “Just not in front of me, all right?” “Somehow, I don’t think Ginny would appreciate me using caveman tactics on her, Ron.” Harry rubbed the back of his neck ruefully. “I think she deserves more than that. And like I said, I don’t think she likes me that way. ” Ron folded his arms across his chest and regarded Harry seriously. “You can be really thick sometimes. Even thicker than me and that’s saying a lot.” He ignored Harry’s indignant sputters. “Listen, mate, I know you, and I know Ginny almost as well as I know you. And I know that you know that I know that I know the both of you.” “Erm, right. Do you think you could you run that by me again?” asked Harry a little sarcastically. “You sound like the time when you were trying to tell me the story when you caught Millicent Bulstrode and Goyle in the boys’ bathroom. You remember that? You said they were both stark—” “Augh! Don’t say it!” shouted Ron, flailing his large hands about in panic. “I’m still wishing I had asked Hermione to Obliviate me after what I saw!” Both of them paled at the image that ran unwelcome in their minds. “Right.” Ron shook his head vigorously as if to clear it from the highly unpleasant memory. “Anyway, Harry, what I’m trying to tell you is that I have a feeling that Ginny never really got over you.” “But, Hermione said—” Harry knit his brows in confusion. “No, Hermione said that Ginny gave up on you,” said Ron, in a slow, patient tone one normally reserved for those who had suffered severe Spell Damage and were confined in the Janus Thickey Ward with Gilderoy Lockhart. “She never said that my sister got over you.” He paused to let the importance of his words sink in, smiling smugly when Harry gawped at him in astonishment. “Hermione calls it ‘sympathicomimetics’,” said Ron, nodding his head wisely. “Er, Ron, don’t you mean ‘semantics’?” said Harry, trying not laugh. “Whatever.” Ron shrugged. “I mean, Ginny’s only gone out a few times since she graduated.” “Really?” This was news to Harry. He had always made it a point not to ask about Ginny’s social life. He certainly never wanted to learn any details about the men that she went out with, just as he was careful never to speak about his own admittedly meagre dates at any gathering where Ginny was present. “Yeah,” said Ron slowly, giving him a strange look. “Now that I think of it…” “What?” “I’ve just realised something weird about those blokes that Ginny’s gone out with. They almost always seemed to resemble you in some way. All of them had dark hair, and one of them even had green eyes.” “That’s probably just a coincidence, Ron,” said Harry dismissively, although he felt peculiarly pleased at what he was hearing. So, Ginny liked to go out with dark-haired, green-eyed men, did she? “Hang on,” said Ron, a grin forming on his face. “Now that I think about it, none of the birds that you’ve gone out with lasted beyond the first date. What was the name of the redhead who kept cackling like an Erkling?” “Hilary,” muttered Harry, wincing slightly. Ron was right, the witch had giggled and squealed like an Erkling hit with a permanent Rictusempra spell. By the end of the evening, Harry had wanted to pass by Hogwarts to leave her in the care of Hagrid, but he had reined in his Magizoology impulses and had simply dropped a still giggling Hilary off at her flat in Middlesex. “What about the one who wouldn’t stop talking about being a vegetarian?” Ron shuddered. “That one put the willies up me, Harry.” “You mean Cherry? She wasn’t a vegetarian. I think she called herself a fruitarian.” “Huh? I didn’t know you swung that way!” Ron eyed him uneasily and moved away from him. Harry rolled with laughter. “No, you complete wally! That means she only ate fruit. She got right shirty with me when I brought her to the Three Broomsticks.” “Oh, right, the haven of rabid fruitarians everywhere!” Ron slapped his knee and guffawed loudly. “Yeah, well, then, I — erm — ordered a double serving of steak and kidney pie. Merlin, you should have seen her throw a wobbly! I didn’t hear from her again.” Harry grimaced as Ron continued to laugh uproariously. “Thank Dumbledore for small mercies.” “That’s bloody unnatural.” Ron shook his head. “Really, Harry. Your dating history is ruddy awful, except maybe for that last redhead that you went out with — you know, the one that was reserve Chaser for the Harpies. She was dead gorgeous.” He gave a sigh of appreciation. “What happened to her?” “Hmmm…How do I say this without being rude?” Harry furrowed his brow. “Medea was very pretty, but she turned out to be a bit of a nutter, yeah? The first date went smashingly, but by the time we went on the second one, she was already talking about holding our wedding at her ancestral home in Greece. It was downright scary. I think she even had the china pattern all picked out and everything.” Ron sniggered loudly at Harry’s misfortunes in the romantic arena. “That’s three for three, Harry! You sure know how to pick them. How about someone a little closer to home, eh? You can use this stay at The Burrow to rekindle old flames. Fan the fires of forgotten desires, even.” He winked exaggeratedly. Harry groaned. “You’ve been reading Hermione’s Muggle romance books again, haven’t you?” He grabbed a cushion from the sofa and threw it at his friend, which Ron caught and promptly hurled back at him. Harry ducked and the cushion sailed over his head. “Watch it!” exclaimed Ginny, whipping out her wand and deflecting the cushion away from her to hit Ron directly in the stomach. “Oops. Sorry, Ginny,” said Harry, wondering when she had come in. Had she heard anything of his conversation with Ron? She smiled brightly at him. “That’s all right, Harry. I know that it was all Ronnie’s fault.” “Hey!” Her brother protested in outrage. “Harry threw it first!” “Yes, but you threw it back,” replied Ginny loftily. “At any rate, Mum said it’s time for dinner. Dad’s already in the kitchen. He Apparated in a few minutes ago.” “All right!” Ron sprung up and bounded out of the living room. “About time! I’m practically wasting away over here!” “Come on, Harry. Mum said we need to fatten you up,” she said, eyeing him critically as he rose to his feet. “Not that there seems to be anything wrong with you,” she murmured, almost to herself. “I’m glad you approve,” said Harry jokingly. “I knew you only liked me for my body.” “You wish,” retorted Ginny, rolling her eyes at him. “I’m not one of your Quidditch groupies, you know. I don’t worship the ground you walk on simply because you’re Harry Potter!” she declared haughtily. Harry grinned at her, hoping that she meant what she had just said. “So you admit it, you do worship the ground I walk on!” She gaped wordlessly at him, her face a brilliant scarlet. However, after a few seconds, Ginny tossed her head impatiently. “In your dreams, Harry,” she scoffed, despite the colour still flooding her cheeks. “Now, chivvy along before your best friend eats everything. We’re having roast beef and you know how much Ron loves that.” Ginny hurriedly shoved her wand in her back pocket, and as she turned around, Harry caught the faint scent of her shampoo. Freesias, he thought absentmindedly as he trailed behind her. He watched the delightfully alluring sway of her hips and smiled to himself. Ron was absolutely correct. It was time to start dating a little closer to home. And maybe fan the fires of a forgotten desire or two. |
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