Only three more weeks until Deathly Hallows! OMG.
Thanks to Chreechree. I hope you lot are continuing to enjoy the story.
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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: 133195; Chapter Total: 14323 Awards: View Trophy Room Author's Notes: |
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Harry snuggled further into his pillows, trying to catch the last vestiges of a decidedly delicious dream that he had been having about towels and creamy, freckled skin. However, a bright and annoyingly cheerful ray of sunlight fell insistently across his face, forcing his eyes open. Harry yawned and scratched his head drowsily, blinking up at the ceiling. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee soon wafted into the room, providing sufficient incentive for him to leave the comfort of his bed and go downstairs to get some caffeine into him. After a quick trip to the bathroom, where sadly, he did not run into any geographically-challenged redheads, he shuffled into the kitchen with another sleepy yawn. Mrs Weasley looked up from her cooking and smiled when she spotted him. “Good morning, dear. Did you sleep well?” She turned some sausages over and then tipped them into a plate. “Yes, thank you,” answered Harry, smiling slightly as he took a seat at the table, which already had several dishes on it, including bacon, toast, fried eggs and tomatoes. Harry had a feeling that Mrs Weasley would not appreciate hearing exactly why he had slept so well — his dreams had been filled with images of a rosy-pink and glistening Ginny, clad only in a tiny towel and smiling seductively at him. “That’s good, Harry.” Mrs Weasley placed the heaping platter of sausages in front of him and poured him a cup of coffee. “Oh, your Healer Flooed in a while ago.” “Did he leave a message?” asked Harry as he speared some sausages with his fork. “Yes.” Harry waited for Mrs Weasley to continue speaking, but when no other answer seemed forthcoming, he looked up to find her patting her hair self-consciously. “You didn’t tell me that your Healer was quite a distinguished-looking man,” said Mrs Weasley in an oddly breathy voice. “And he had to catch me while I was wearing this old thing.” She gestured to her faded floral-print pinny in mild vexation. “Um, it must have slipped my mind,” said Harry, hiding a grin as he took a sip of coffee. “What did Healer Cosmas want, Mrs Weasley?” he prompted gently. “Oh, yes,” she said, blushing slightly. She shook her head briskly, removed her pinny then grabbed a large basket hanging from a hook on the wall. “He wanted to remind you to take your potion. Have you, dear?” “Er, no,” said Harry guiltily. “I’ll do it right after breakfast.” Mrs Weasley nodded absentmindedly as she rummaged through her pockets for her shopping list. “All right, make sure you do so, Harry. Now, I’m off to Diagon Alley for some errands. We’re low on feed and one of the hens is acting up — I do hope it’s not something those dratted gnomes put into their water again, they will manage to sneak into the coop despite all the anti-pest wards I’ve put up on it — so I need to get something for that from the Magical Menagerie, and oh, did you want anything for Hedwig? I hope to be back for lunch, but in case I’m late, there’s some roast beef in the larder, and if the children want sandwiches, there’s raspberry preserve and cheese in there too.” Harry was a bit overwhelmed with all the information that Mrs Weasley was rattling off, but he nodded to show that he understood. “There’s also a chocolate cake in the pantry for afters, but don’t give Amelie too much as she gets a bit difficult to handle if she eats lots of chocolate. Ginny will be here anyway, so you shouldn’t go hungry in case I do come back late,” Mrs. Weasley added, tying a brightly coloured scarf around her hair. “She’s a wonderful cook, you know, and she’s excellent with the children. She works too hard, don’t you think so, Harry? Why, we hardly ever see her! She needs to find a good man and settle down soon.” Harry thought that Mrs Weasley had given him a rather meaningful look at this point, but he wasn’t sure as she had turned away to get her purse. “Well, I’m off! Oh, did you say that wanted anything from Diagon Alley?” “No, thank you, Mrs Weasley. Be safe.” “Thank you, dear. Don’t forget to take your potion,” she reminded him. He waved to the Weasley matriarch as she left the kitchen, the enormous basket swinging from her arm. Harry curled his hands against his mug and sighed contentedly. He felt quite relaxed, something that he had not truly been for a long time now. Harry chuckled. Maybe it had been a good thing that McLaggen had kicked him in the head. It was quiet in The Burrow, except for the soft clucking of the chickens outside and the frantic squeals of a garden gnome which had wandered too near the cockerel’s domain. Harry watched dust motes dance in the morning sunlight streaming through the large windows and wondered if Ginny was still asleep. She never had been an early riser. Harry remembered that she always came clomping down from her dormitory at the very last minute, never really waking up until she had at least downed two cups of very strong tea laced with obscene amounts of honey. It was probably partially his fault, as he and Ginny would spend most evenings talking in the common room until the wee hours of the morning. When Harry finally and reluctantly did make his way back to his four-poster bed, most of his dreams featured a certain feisty redheaded girl with laughing brown eyes instead of an evil Dark Lord bent on killing him. The comfort that those late-night conversations brought him was just another one of the many reasons why he liked Ginny so much. Harry was pondering on how he should go about his plans to win Ginny over when he heard the unmistakable sound of crying coming from the second floor. He put down his mug and rushed up the stairs, hurrying towards the children’s room, thinking that probably one of them had woken up from a nightmare of some sort. When he entered the room, he found Amelie standing up and wailing in her cot. “Maman! Maman!” she shrieked loudly, making Harry wince at the high-pitched sounds. Michel was also awake and was at his sister’s side, patting Amelie on the leg in an attempt to comfort her. As he made his way to the children, Harry could see that the little boy’s blue eyes were shiny with unshed tears as well. He lowered the cot railing and tried to pick Amelie up, but she wiggled away and cried even harder, big fat tears rolling down her angelic face, which, to Harry’s growing apprehension, was rapidly turning an alarming shade of blue. As he looked on helplessly at the increasingly hysterical little girl, Ginny burst into the room, clad in a white dressing gown, her hair still mussed up from sleep. “What happened?” she asked breathlessly, her quick movements bringing her to Amelie’s side in a trice. “Oh, Poppet. Tante Gee’s here,” she said in a soothing voice as she lifted the little girl effortlessly into her arms. Harry shrugged feebly as he stared at Ginny’s shapely legs, which the short robe was showing to great advantage. Merlin, she looks good enough to eat, he thought in bemused admiration. Harry’s guiltily jerked his head up when Ginny shifted from one foot to the other and began rocking Amelie. Get a grip. There’s a crisis here and all you can do is ogle Ginny’s legs like some kind of degenerate pervert. Giving himself a mental slap on the forehead for being a depraved bugger, Harry instead focused on Michel. He squeezed the boy’s shoulder, and Michel leaned into him with a soft sniffle. “She probably got scared when she woke up and she didn’t know where she was,” said Ginny as sat down on Michel’s bed, not knowing that her dressing gown had ridden up even more, giving Harry a glimpse of smooth, creamy thigh. “Er, yeah,” he managed to croak out, before he completely lost the power of speech. Holy Mother of Merlin. Was Ginny starkers underneath that gown? Harry hastily ducked his head, concentrating on the well-worn wooden flooring and began enumerating the nine uses of flobberworm mucus — one, main ingredient in bookbinding glue; two, main ingredient in Mrs. Skower’s Magical Mess Remover; three, main ingredient in Gregory’s Unctuous Unction — in an attempt to master his hormones and his overheated imagination. By the time he had reached use number six (main ingredient in Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion), Harry was of the opinion that he was at least marginally successful in his efforts, although he was extremely thankful that his pyjama bottoms were quite baggy. “Hush, Poppet, everything’s going to be all right,” said Ginny, rubbing Amelie’s back. Amelie gave a watery hiccough and seemed to calm down a bit. Harry was relieved to see that the little girl’s face was now returning to its normal colour. Michel stood up and went over to sit beside Ginny, who put a consoling arm around him. A very strange sensation came over Harry, and it wasn’t because he had suddenly forgotten the eighth use of flobberworm mucus (main ingredient in the Grow-Your-Own Warts Kit) and was consequently having the most difficult time trying not to think about what Ginny was — or was not — wearing beneath her dressing gown. Rather, the sight of the Ginny, her arms wrapped lovingly around Michel and Amelie, made him feel very warm inside, and he could well believe that he was looking at an idyllic portrait of a devoted family. Harry swallowed thickly as he continued to stare at Ginny and the children. He imagined having his own loving family — one that had pretty redheaded babies with clear brown eyes, just like their mother. Ginny unexpectedly looked up and met his gaze. She raised her eyebrows at him and Harry felt his face flush slightly. She was probably wondering why he was staring at her and smiling like an idiot, but he was pleasantly surprised when all of a sudden, she smiled back at him. “Well, it seems the waterworks are over. Why don’t we see to some breakfast, hmm?” Ginny rose and propped Amelie on her hip. “Poppet, can you go with Uncle Harry while Tante Gee changes into something a bit more decent?” Amelie shook her head and hid her face in Ginny’s shoulder. Harry chuckled when Ginny rolled her eyes. “C’mon Amelie, you wanna ride the hippogriff again?” he cajoled the little girl, who peeked at him from under her eyelashes. He crossed his eyes, making her giggle, and she finally slid from Ginny’s arms and onto his back. “Michel, why don’t you lead the way? You can pretend you’re the hippogriff trainer,” he told Amelie’s brother, who agreed enthusiastically and walked to the door. “Thanks, Harry,” said Ginny. “I’ll be down in a tic. I need go throw something on.” “All right,” he replied. “Although what you’re wearing right now isn’t half bad, you know. I could definitely get used to seeing you like this.” A little surprised at his own cheekiness, Harry grinned, winked at her and left the room with Ginny staring after him in shock. “Yes, Hermione. I’m feeling quite well,” said Harry for the third time, running his hand through his hair in exasperation. “No headaches, no dizziness, no sudden urge to spew all over the place. And yes, before you ask, I took my potion like a good little wizard.” “No need to be tetchy, Harry.” Hermione’s disembodied head remonstrated him from the fireplace. “I was only making sure you’re all right.” “I know, I know, and I’m sorry for being a git,” replied Harry, “but really, I’m okay. I feel perfectly, completely, absolutely fine and for once I mean it.” “Hmpf.” Even through the flickering green flames, Harry could see that his best friend had narrowed her eyes at him. Hermione, however, unexpectedly smiled and continued in a light, teasing voice. “I wonder, could a certain redhead with the initials G. W. have anything to do with you being ‘perfectly, completely, absolutely fine’?” “Hermione! You know I don’t fancy George that way!” Harry opened his eyes wide and pretended to look horrified. “Oh, you!” Hermione scolded, her lips twitching as she struggled not to laugh. “You know whom I mean, Harry!” “Don’t you start,” warned Harry, although he could not help the silly smile that was forcing its way across his face. “So the fact that Ginny is also staying at The Burrow doesn’t have anything to do with the absurdly large grin you’re wearing right now.” Harry was not surprised that Hermione knew or had guessed that he still had feelings for Ginny. On the rare occasions when he and Ginny were both in attendance during Sunday dinners at The Burrow, he had often taken a break from his Ginny-watching to find Hermione looking back and forth between him and Ginny with a shrewd glint in her eye. “Nope,” he said airily. “And the fact that you and Ginny practically have the house to yourselves doesn’t affect you in any way whatsoever?” “Not at all.” Harry leaned back on his heels and crossed his arms nonchalantly. “Besides, Amelie and Michel are here, so it’s not like we’re alone, right? And Mrs Weasley’s around too.” “Oh, so you get to play house, do you?” asked Hermione slyly. “Stop it, Hermione.” Harry shook his head at her as if he had not had exactly the same thought just this morning. Against his will, his grin became even wider. “You’re a really bad liar, Harry,” said Hermione, now openly laughing at him. “So, where’s the little missus and the family now?” “Ginny’s taken the kids for a swim in the pond.” Harry thought that sounded quite domestic, and he felt warm all over again. “Why aren’t you with them?” “I had to take my potion, and I was told by the nurse to refrain from any physical activity for at least an hour after drinking it.” “Oh, right. That’s very responsible of you, Harry,” said Hermione approvingly, before she looked at him in concern again. “Are you certain you’re—” “Yes, Mother,” replied Harry, giving her a smirk. “Now, you stop it,” admonished Hermione. “Honestly.” He decided to distract her from nagging him some more about his health. “Where’s Ron?” That did the trick. “I don’t know where Ron is,” replied Hermione with a little frown. “He was supposed to meet me for lunch but cancelled at the last minute. He said he had to do something important but would see me for dinner. We’re going to a new restaurant in London. It’s supposed to be very posh.” Harry raised an eyebrow. “Really? Is there a special occasion that I’m not aware of? Did I forget your anniversary or something?” he asked, though he already knew the reason as to why Ron was taking Hermione to an expensive dinner. Hermione frowned again. “None that I know of. Our anniversary was two days ago, and we already celebrated that when we—” It was not clearly visible through the green flames, but Harry thought that she was blushing wildly. “When you what?” he pressed, enjoying being able to tease her like this. “Never you mind, Harry,” she said firmly. “Although if you really want the intimate details, I’d be more than happy to oblige you.” She gave him an arch look. “Ugh, no thanks,” groaned Harry, shaking his head vehemently. “Spare me! There are some things that are not meant for human ears.” “Oh, stop it, you silly boy,” said Hermione, with a roll of her eyes and a laugh. “You sound exactly like Ginny sometimes, you know that?” She looked down at her unseen wrist and gasped. “Oh my goodness, I have to get going! I have a meeting in about half an hour with the Minister of Italy. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?” “All right. ‘Bye.” “’Bye.” Her head disappeared from the fire only to re-emerge after a second or two. “Oh, and Harry?” Hermione called out. “Yes? What is it?” “I hope things work out with you and Ginny. I’ve always thought you were perfect for each other.” With another fond smile at him, Hermione finally vanished from the flames. “Yeah, me too,” Harry said to himself. He was staring blankly into the fireplace, trying yet again to think of a way that he could begin rebuilding the close relationship he had once had with Ginny when the flames flared up again. When he had recovered from his initial surprise, he peered into the grate to see a vaguely familiar face grinning at him. “Bloody hell, Harry! Fancy seeing you there!” “Seamus?” The head floating in the hearth nodded and replied cheerily in a thick Irish burr. “How the hell are you, Harry?” “Bugger it all,” laughed Harry, pleased at seeing his old classmate. “Seamus Finnigan! I haven’t seen you since Hogwarts!” Seamus grinned back at him. “It’s been too long, Harry, me lad. I heard you had a bit of a run-in with that plonker McLaggen.” “I’m okay,” said Harry dismissively. “No worries. How about you? D’you still get to talk to the others?” “I’m fine, Harry,” said Seamus, smiling widely. “I see Dean now and then for a pint at The Leaky Cauldron. He works for Obscurus Books. They’re making a special illustrated edition of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them and he’s been commissioned to do the artwork.” “Really? That’s brilliant news!” said Harry. “Tell him I said well done, will you?” “Why don’t you congratulate him yourself? We should go down to the pub with Dean and Neville one of these days. Bring His Majesty, King Ron, too!” “Yeah, that’d be grand. So, did you want to talk to Ron?” “No, as a matter of fact, I was wondering if Ginny was around?” Seamus turned his head from side to side, as if trying to see if the redhead was in the living room. Harry’s good spirits immediately disappeared and he looked at Seamus suspiciously. Now that he thought about it, he wondered how the other man had got through the Floo connection to The Burrow. The house was still protected by powerful wards, and only a select few had any sort of access to it. What did this smarmy git want with Ginny? Was he dating her? Harry felt his temper rising at the thought of Ginny laughing and flirting with Seamus Finnigan, who, Harry now recalled darkly, was quite the witches’ wizard, even back in Hogwarts. He hadn’t been nicknamed ‘Infamous Seamus’ for nothing. “As a matter of fact, she’s busy at the moment,” he said curtly, eyeing Seamus with a mistrustful glare and trying to determine if he actually posed any threat. Seamus’ cheerful Irish brogue grated irritatingly on Harry’s nerves. “Oh, well. Can you tell her then that Mrs Caulfield — that’s our boss —” “Hang on,” interrupted Harry, frowning. “You work with Ginny?” “Oh, yeah,” confirmed Seamus. “Didn’t you know that?” “No,” muttered Harry irritably. “Ah, Ginny must have forgotten to tell you of her good fortune to be working with the likes of me,” joked Seamus. Harry didn’t find him amusing at all, and instead stared at him impassively. Seamus’ chuckles died and he cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Anyway, Mrs Caulfield has given me loads of things to do, so much as I regret it, I can’t possibly escort Ginny to Sylvia’s wedding.” Harry scowled deepened. “Wait, you’re supposed to take Ginny to a wedding? As her date?” “Yeah, she sent me an owl this morning, but like I mentioned, I — uh —” Seamus faltered, seeming intimidated at Harry’s unexpected change in attitude. He uneasily eyed the way that Harry was glowering at him. “I — uh — can’t make it. Er, could you pass that message on to Ginny?” Seamus apparently took Harry’s abrupt grunt and steely gaze as confirmation and hastily bid him good-bye. Harry slowly rose to his feet and began pacing the room. Ginny was supposed to go to a wedding with Finnigan? Did that mean that she was romantically involved with him? But she had said that she was not seeing anyone, hadn’t she? Maybe she had just said that so that Ron would not pester her with questions and go into overprotective brother mode. Well, bugger that for a lark, Harry thought fiercely. She’s not going on any date with anybody but me. He stopped pacing and set his jaw determinedly. Right. I'm going to just have to convince her to let me take her to that bloody wedding, wherever it is. |
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