Started out life as an SIYE challenge (Muggle Field Trip 2007) and ended up being an entry for a completely different one over at the lj community hgseasonsfest four years later on. A bit of winter fluff for the incredibly talented hgfan1111, who requested for a light feel, kisses with cold noses, snowflakes, hot chocolate, the song St Patrick’s Day by John Mayer, and Harry or Ginny teaching the other something new.
Thanks to Chreechree, the queen of all betas.
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Holiday on Ice | ||||
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Category: Post-OotP Characters:Harry/Ginny, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley Genres: Fluff, General, Humor Warnings: None Story is Complete Rating: G Reviews: 15 Summary: Harry wished he and Ginny could stay here just a bit longer. Maybe they could stay until New Year’s, or Valentine’s, or maybe even up to St Patrick’s Day. Hitcount: Story Total: 4930 Disclaimer: Harry Potter Publishing Rights © J.K.R. Note the opinions in this story are my own and in no way represent the owners of this site. This story subject to copyright law under transformative use. No compensation is made for this work. Author's Notes: |
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Dinnertime at Hogwarts was always a noisy and cheerful affair, especially at this time of year; the level of noise seemed to have tripled in intensity as the students excitedly talked about their plans for the upcoming winter break. At the Gryffindor table, Hermione, Ginny and Harry were in the middle of a discussion when Ron came in, looking grumpy and out of sorts. He dropped into the seat beside Hermione, grabbed a plate and immediately began heaping food onto it. “Bugger off,” he growled to a first-year boy who had reached for the same turkey leg. The boy squeaked in fright and hastily scuttled off. “Ron!” cried Hermione. “How was detention?” asked Ginny from across the table, cutting off whatever reprimand Hermione was about to deliver. Her brother gave a disgusted grunt in response and continued chewing. Ron had accidentally knocked over an entire supply of lacewing flies into his cauldron of Babbling Beverage right as Professor Snape was passing by, causing Snape to inadvertently swallow a mouthful of potion and begin spouting nonsensical phrases that soon had the entire class practically crying with laughter. Snape had the last laugh, however, because when he finally stopped gibbering, he had sent Ron straight into detention. Harry, sitting beside Ginny, gave his best friend a sympathetic glance. He had been too far from the cauldron for Snape to be able to justify giving him any punishment, but Snape had docked Harry ten house points anyway for “allowing” Ron to approach the supply cabinet. Hermione clucked her tongue reprovingly. Ron opened his mouth to retort, but Ginny interrupted him before he could start another row. “So, Ron, are you interested in coming with us?” Her brother looked at her in confusion. “Huh?” “Right after Christmas, we’re going to a Muggle city in Eastern Europe to study the Muggles in their natural environment. It’s a little project for Muggle Studies.” “Aren’t we going home? I don’t quite fancy spending the winter hols in some ruddy foreign city.” “Mum asked us to stay here while they visit Charlie in Romania, remember?” said Ginny patiently. “I’ve Owled Dad and he said it’s okay for us to go.” “Of course he would — he’d probably come along if Mum would let him,” said Ron with a snort. “Anyway, I don’t take Muggle Studies,” he added, “and neither does Harry. Hermione, you dropped it after third year, didn’t you?” “Well, yes,” Hermione nodded, “but Professor Frommer said that other students, especially those with Muggle backgrounds, were welcome to go.” “Professor Frommer?” said Ron. “The temporary Muggle Studies teacher,” said Hermione. “It was supposed to be Professor Burbage, but she’s sick and can’t make it.” “It’ll be fun, Ron! Harry’s already said he’ll come, isn’t that right?” said Ginny, turning expectantly to Harry. “Yeah.” Harry smiled at her. At Ron’s raised eyebrows, Harry shrugged his shoulders. “Professor Frommer asked me if I could help, ‘cos I live with Muggles and all that.” Harry did not add that a big part of the reason that he had agreed was because of Ginny. He and Ginny had spent a lovely summer at The Burrow, getting to know each other better, with Harry being pleasantly surprised that they had a lot of things in common. When they had gone back to Hogwarts, he had seen her talking to her old boyfriend, Michael Corner, and Harry had felt such a great wave of jealousy that he was absolutely confused and terrified by it. It was only then that he realised that he had fallen for Ginny but had no idea if she felt the same way about him. He tried not to be too obvious about his feelings, but he found himself having a hard time refusing whatever she asked of him, especially when she stared at him with those brown eyes of hers, or when she twirled a lock of her flaming red hair around her finger, or when her lips smiled seductively at him, like she was doing right now… Harry felt his ears heat up and struggled to maintain his composure. He knew it was only a matter of time before Ron, as thick as he was, would catch on that his sister was the object of Harry’s increasingly elaborate daydreams. (The last one had involved him rescuing a scantily clad Ginny from the hands of a pirate lord, and Harry still blushed whenever he remembered the rather titillating reward that daydream Ginny had enthusiastically bestowed upon him…) “Why would you want to go gadding about anyway? Mental, if you ask me.” Ron shook his head in disbelief. “And why is that?” said Hermione crossly. “I would think that you would be thrilled for an opportunity to broaden your horizons and to learn more of the world.” “If I wanted to study Muggles, I could do it right here in the comfort of Hogwarts.” Ron pointed the turkey leg at Hermione. “I could just study you in your natural environment — the library.” Ginny sniggered and nudged Harry, who was hiding his own grin behind his goblet of pumpkin juice. Hermione swelled visibly, and Harry hastily spoke up before she could begin her rant. “Yes, but we get to skive off classes and still get credit for it.” “No Snape?” said Ron, now looking interested despite his earlier words. “No Snape,” Ginny confirmed. “Just think about it — no stupid greasy gits, no stupid Potions with the stupid Slytherins…” “Well, I’m still not sure. What if there’s nothing to eat there?” Hermione sighed. “I’m quite certain that we’ll be able to find something to fill your stomach, Ron.” “Nah, you lot go. I’ll stay here where there’s food aplenty,” he replied, taking a huge bite out of the turkey leg for emphasis. “Fine,” snapped Hermione. “Suit yourself, then.” “Oh, Ron,” said Ginny, glancing with concern at Hermione, who was now viciously stabbing her roast beef and making strange huffing noises. “Don’t you even want to know where we’re going? Maybe you’ll change your mind.” “Doubt it, but all right.” Ron put the turkey leg down and crossed his arms. “Where are you lot going?” “Sofia,” said Ginny. Ron laughed out loud. “They named a city after a girl?” he said incredulously, making Hermione pause in mid-stab and narrow her eyes at him. “What kind of daft country would do something as dim as that?” Hermione pursed her lips in annoyance before answering Ron in clipped tones. “Bulgaria.” “Tell me again why I’m doing this?” moaned Ron. “Because you went nuts and made a scene in the Great Hall, screaming bloody murder and forbidding Hermione to go to Bulgaria?” volunteered Ginny with a grin. “You did a really passable imitation of a human Howler, Ron. You even put Mum to shame.” As Ginny and Ron began bickering softly, Harry looked at his surroundings with interest. They were at the Paris Gare de l'Est station, awaiting the Cassiopeia, which would take them to their next destination, Munich. Together with the rest of the Muggle Studies class, they all appeared inconspicuous enough in heavy jumpers and jeans, except possibly for Professor Frommer, whose flowered sunhat and violently purple Bermuda shorts were so at odds with the current chilly temperatures that he had been drawing strange looks and chuckles from passers by since they began their journey. As of the moment, the professor — a tall, reedy man with unusually luxuriant eyebrows — was standing beside a vending machine, explaining to the other students that the machine was connected to a magical kitchen hidden deep in the bowels of the train station, much like the one in Hogwarts, and was run by emancipated house elves. Harry watched with amusement as Professor Frommer went on to gingerly insert some money into the machine, the students exclaiming in awe when a packet of crisps fell into the dispenser. Ron fidgeted with the straps on his heavy rucksack. “Bloody hell. Why couldn’t we have taken one of those ships, like those Durmstrang tossers did when they went to Hogwarts for the Tri-Wizard contest?” “Because,” a haughty voice said from behind them, “Professor Frommer decided that we should completely immerse ourselves in the world of Muggles so as not to arouse suspicion, and that includes travelling by Muggle means, obviously.” “But Hermione,” whined Ron, “how many more bloody trains do we have to take?” “From Munich, we take the RailJet express to Vienna,” Hermione said, handing Harry and Ginny their tickets, “then a direct sleeping-car to Sofia via Belgrade.” She frowned when Ron groaned again. “You didn’t have to come with us, you know.” She shoved his ticket at him and prepared to storm away. Ron muttered to Harry, “As if I’d let her meet that ruddy pumpkinhead all by herself.” Hermione rounded on Ron. “Viktor is not a pumpkinhead!” “Yeah? And how is dear Vicky nowadays?” “Viktor is quite well, thank you very much,” sniffed Hermione. Ron curled his lip. “Oh, and how did you know that? Exchanging love letters with Vicky boy? Aren’t you tired of chasing after him, Hermione?” “Merlin save us, here they go again.” Ginny threw up her hands in exasperation. “Harry, we’d better do something. They’re causing a scene.” True enough, several Muggles had stopped to gawk as the two teenagers screamed at each other. Harry hurriedly grabbed Ron’s arm and steered him towards a bench set amidst a large display of Christmas trees, while Ginny hauled Hermione in the opposite direction. Harry pushed a heavily breathing Ron onto the bench. “You’ve got to stop winding Hermione up, mate.” His friend covered his face with his hands. “I know, but I can’t help it.” Harry heaved a resigned sigh. Ron still could not admit that he fancied Hermione and was insanely jealous of Viktor Krum. The two of them fell silent, watching as Professor Frommer tried to explain to a frowning uniformed official why the vending machine was now spewing fizzy drinks all over the ground. Harry was about to see what he could do to help when Ginny came back, a scowl on her pretty face. She stared briefly at Ron before she abruptly kicked him in the shin. Ron clutched his leg. “What the bloody hell was that for?” “You really hurt Hermione’s feelings this time, you twit!” “I did?” mumbled Ron. “Ron!” said Ginny in frustration. “Go and apologise before I cripple your other leg!” Ron hesitated for a second, then stood up and limped determinedly away. Harry looked worriedly at Ginny. “Is Hermione all right?” He was completely taken aback when she began laughing out loud. “She’s fine.” She gave him a grin. “Hopping mad, of course, but otherwise she’s fine.” “Oh no, I know that smile,” he said, grinning himself. “What did you do?” “Nothing — just got tired of those two and their idea of foreplay,” she said airily. “It’s so obvious that they like each other, so why don’t they simply admit it?” “Er…” replied Harry intelligently, as his brain had become stuck on the word ‘foreplay’. “Of course,” Ginny went on, oblivious of Harry’s quandary, “I understand where Hermione’s coming from.” Her expression suddenly became serious. “It’s hard to put your heart on the line when you’re not sure if the one you fancy fancies you back,” she said, staring at him intently. Harry stared back at her, now even more nonplussed. Was she telling him that she fancied him? He had almost mustered up enough courage to actually ask her what she meant when he noticed an extremely peeved brunette walking rapidly towards them. “Hermione!” he and Ginny chorused. “Where’s Ron?” added Ginny. “How should I know?” “But…” said Ginny, shifting uncomfortably. “What is it?” said Hermione, her irritation turning into alarm. “He went looking for you,” said Harry. “I think he wanted to apologise.” Hermione brightened up. “Really? I went to the bathroom, so he may have missed me.” She checked her watch. “We’d better find him. The train will be arriving soon.” “Come on, then,” said Harry. “He can’t have wandered far.” After several minutes of searching through the train station, which contained enough shops to rival a commercial shopping centre, they eventually spotted Ron inside a small patisserie. “Ron! We’ve been—” Hermione stopped short when she saw the attractive blonde behind the till, her hand resting lightly on Ron’s arm. “Oh, sorry, got a bit carried away with all these sweets,” said Ron, grinning at them. “This is Madeleine. Madeleine, these are my friends, Hermione and Harry, and my sister, Ginny.” “Allô,” said Madeleine, staring at Harry and paying no attention to the two girls. “Try the chocolate eclairs,” urged Ron. “They’re bloody brilliant.” Only Harry stepped forward. “Very nice,” he said politely, after taking a bite. “I am very lucky today, I think,” Madeleine had a slight accent, but otherwise her English was flawless, “to have such cute boys come into my shop and give me compliments, non?” Flustered, Harry gave Madeleine a weak smile and then looked away. He saw Hermione scowl and leave abruptly. His eyes then met Ginny’s, who arched a mocking eyebrow at him before she, too, exited the shop. Harry winced as the door slammed after her. “Er, we’ve got to go, Ron, or we’ll miss the train.” “Blimey, I almost forgot.” Thanking Madeleine, Ron grabbed his rucksack from Harry and they hurried after the girls, who were already a good distance ahead of them. Harry was wondering what he had done to set Ginny off when both girls unexpectedly broke into a run. “Wait, stop!” squealed Hermione, her legs pumping madly. They all made a mad dash for the platform, waving their arms frantically, but it was too late. The Cassiopeia was gone. “This is all your fault.” “How is it my fault?” “If you hadn’t been so busy flirting—” “I wasn’t flirting!” “You were!” “I wasn’t!” “You were!” “I wasn’t!” “Shut up, both of you!” shouted Ginny. Hermione and Ron stopped quarrelling but continued to glower at each other. “Ron, you were flirting, and so was lover boy over here,” Ginny jerked a thumb at an astonished Harry, “but right now we need to get word to Professor Frommer that we’re stranded here in Paris.” “I wasn’t flirting either,” protested Harry hotly. Ginny rolled her eyes and folded her arms across her chest. “Ginny’s right. It’s getting late, and there are no more trains going to Munich until tomorrow evening,” said Hermione, glaring one final time at Ron. “Go send an owl to Dad,” suggested Ron. “Simple, really.” “Simple, is it?” repeated Hermione, rather shrilly. “Where’s the nearest Owl Post Office, then?” Ron lapsed into a sullen silence and she rubbed her temples wearily. “I guess we should find a hostel.” “A what?” asked Ginny. “A hostel. It’s like a hotel, but a lot less expensive,” explained Harry. “Kind of like the rooms at The Leaky Cauldron.” “Okay, how are we going to pay for that?” said Ginny. “Does anyone have any Muggle money?” Hermione nodded absently and began rummaging through her bag. After a quick search through his belongings, Harry managed to find a five-pound note in one of his trouser pockets and several Galleons and Muggle coins in another. Ginny produced two Sickles from her bag. Ron came up with some Droobles wrappers, numerous empty packets of Chocolate Frogs, and a Pepper Imp, which he promptly ate. The three of them waited for Hermione, who was still busy opening the seemingly innumerable compartments of her extremely large rucksack. Harry took the opportunity to sidle up to Ginny. “I wasn’t flirting, you know,” he whispered, not knowing exactly why it was vitally important that she understood that. Ginny gave a small snort. “Sure, Harry,” she said, watching Hermione search through her bum bag. “I wasn’t,” insisted Harry. “Or if I was, I certainly didn’t know I was doing it,” he admitted sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. Ginny stared at him for a moment, and then to his relief, flashed him a grin. “Yeah, you probably didn’t. Sad to say, there’s no such thing as a flirty Harry Potter.” Harry laughed along with her, pleased that they seemed to be all right again, but he was a bit bothered that Ginny didn’t think he had it in him to flirt. He was wondering how he could change her mind when Hermione gave a little shriek. “Found it. My credit card!” she cried, waving it around in triumph. “What can that thing do?” asked Ginny, puzzled. “It’s like having unlimited Muggle money with you all the time,” Harry told her. “But,” Hermione fiddled with the card uncertainly, “my dad told me to use it only for emergencies.” “I’m sure he’ll understand, Hermione,” said Ginny, frowning at her brother, who was muttering something uncomplimentary under his breath. “Yeah, and I’ll pay you once we get back to Hogwarts,” promised Harry. “All right, I’ll call Dad from the hostel,” Hermione decided, “and he can contact Mr Weasley and let him know about our situation. Let’s go, then.” A light snow had begun to fall by the time they trooped into a small hostel a short distance away from the station. Hermione headed straight to the reception, while the others drifted towards the small television set around which a number of teenagers were congregated. To Harry’s dismay, one brown-haired boy in the group gave Ginny a smile that was much too friendly in his opinion. Harry stared hard at him, but that didn’t seem to deter the boy from approaching them. “Bonjour,” he said, extending his hand to Ginny. “I am Claude.” Ginny shook his hand. “I’m Ginny, and this is Harry.” Claude nodded, but focused his attention on Ginny. “What a beautiful name for a beautiful girl,” he said smoothly. “Tell me, what brings you to Paris?” “We’re on holiday,” said Harry, scowling at him. “Oh, are you together?” Claude looked back and forth between them. “We’re travelling together, but we’re not together, right?” said Ginny, holding Harry’s gaze for a long moment. Harry wanted to protest that he and Ginny were more than just friends, but since it wasn’t true, he couldn’t. A flicker of disappointment seemed to cross Ginny’s face when he didn’t say anything, but it vanished so quickly that Harry thought he had imagined it. “Anyway, are you on holiday too?” she asked Claude. Harry looked at his feet as Ginny and Claude continued to make small talk and slunk away gladly when Hermione called him over. “I sent a telegram to let Professor Frommer know where we are,” she announced. “I’ve also called my dad. He wanted to take the next flight here, but I convinced him that we’d be all right and that we can buy tickets for tomorrow’s train. He’ll try to contact Mr Weasley, though I don’t know how he’ll manage that…” Harry grunted noncommittally. “Something wrong?” Hermione looked behind him. “Ginny doesn’t like him, Harry,” she said dismissively. “What are you talking about?” said Harry evasively. Hermione arched her eyebrows, and his shoulders slumped in defeat. “She certainly seems to be enjoying herself,” he muttered as Ginny laughed at something Claude said. “She’s just being civil. See, here she comes now.” “Thanks for leaving me alone with a complete stranger, Harry,” said Ginny dryly. “I — well —” he stammered out, but she ignored him and turned to Hermione. “Were you able to get us a room?” “I got two.” Hermione looked around. “Where’s Ron?” “Uh-oh,” said Harry, as a commotion over by the television revealed Ron’s whereabouts. “I better get him before there's trouble.” “I’ll go with you,” offered Ginny. Harry hesitated, looking doubtfully at the group of imposing-looking teenage boys that were signalling to each other and gesturing at Ron. His gaze switched back to Ginny, who was now giving him her own rather resolute look. “Okay,” he agreed grudgingly, not wanting to risk riling her more than he already seemed to have. He was rewarded with a smile, and together they made their way to her brother. “All right, Ron?” he called out as he approached his best friend, whose face was flushed an angry red. “I don’t know what these tosspots said about Hermione,” Ron bit out, “but I’m certain it wasn’t nice.” Ginny placed a hand on Ron’s arm. “Never mind these gits. Let’s just go.” One of the group — Claude, the one who had earlier tried to chat Ginny up — uttered a word that Harry didn’t understand although the meaning was clear enough, if the raucous laughter that followed and the lascivious glances they threw Ginny were anything to go by. Harry stepped forward, his hand discreetly going to his wand, but he needn’t have bothered. Ginny levelled such a ferocious glare at the smirking Claude and the rest of his mates that they actually shrank back and began fidgeting uneasily. “Let’s go, Ron,” she repeated in a calm voice. For a moment, it appeared that Ron would not heed her, but he took a deep breath, picked up his bag and marched towards a worried-looking Hermione. Her head held high, Ginny followed, and, after he cast his own warning glance at the group, Harry hurried to catch up with her. “Ginny—” “I don’t want to hear it, Harry,” she cut him off, frowning. “I was going to say that was brilliant, the way you handled them,” he said, a little hurt by her attitude. What had he done wrong now? Ginny sighed and gave him a small smile. “Thanks. Sorry for snapping at you. It’s been a long day, and I’ve little patience for idiots.” Harry grinned back. “I’ll try not to test your patience, then.” He glanced at Hermione and Ron, who appeared to be having another minor row. “I can’t promise that about your brother though.” She groaned in frustration. “Grab my idiot brother before Hermione has a complete breakdown, then let’s all have dinner, yeah?” “Sounds great,” he agreed, glad that she was back in good humour. Ginny winced as the familiar sound of Hermione and Ron’s squabbling reached them. “Honestly, they should just snog and be done with it,” she said, not bothering to lower her voice. Harry had to stifle a laugh when both his friends turned red. Ron began to rifle through his bag, while Hermione became immensely engrossed in the room keys she held in her hands. “Here’s your key, Harry,” said Hermione, not looking at him. “We’re on different floors but that’s not really a problem, is it, because we’re all in the same place. Oh, and I managed to exchange some more money so here you go!” She thrust some coloured banknotes at Harry, who managed not to drop them in his surprise. Ginny winked at him as she grabbed Hermione and pulled her towards the stairwell. “See you later,” she called out over her shoulder. Harry waved and then turned to Ron, who was still rooting aimlessly through his things. “Hermione’s gone,” he said, grinning when his friend looked up guiltily. “What say we put our bags in the room and then find something to eat?” As it turned out, Harry ended up waiting for the girls on his own. Ron became enamoured of the vending machine on their floor and had retired to the room with a veritable cornucopia of sweets and fizzy drinks. Thankfully, Claude and his minions seemed to have disappeared, and there was only a Muggle boy and his girlfriend snogging unreservedly in the worn loveseat near the small fireplace. Harry averted his gaze and moved to one of the windows. Despite the hour, the streets were still full of people in brightly coloured winter clothing, strolling about and window-shopping, while the holiday lights flashed and reflected off the snow-covered ground. “Pretty, isn’t it?” Harry turned to find Ginny at his side, also gazing out at the scenery. She had changed into a warmer jacket, and he was thrilled to see that she was wearing the sparkly powder blue scarf that he had given her for Christmas. “Quite,” he replied, not really referring to the picturesque view outside. Ginny looked at him and smiled. “You ready, then?” “Where’s Hermione?” “She’s pleaded a headache, although if you ask me,” Ginny leaned forward conspiratorially, “I think she just doesn’t want to confront Ron after they practically admitted they fancy the pants off each other.” “Ron’s in the same boat,” Harry chuckled. “He raided the vending machine and called it a night.” “So it’s just you and me, eh?” Harry’s pulse quickened. Strolling the streets of Paris with Ginny by his side — it was almost like a date, wasn’t it? Maybe this was his chance to tell her how he felt. Thanking the gods of fate for smiling down on him, he said, “Shall we?” She laughed as she slipped her arm through his. “Let’s go.” Just outside the hostel, Harry bought Ginny an enormous bag of hot roasted chestnuts from a smiling vendor who bore a striking resemblance to Hagrid, and they enjoyed the sweet treats as they leisurely wandered around, peering through shop windows and admiring the freshly cut fir trees that seemed to be on every corner. When they rounded the bend, they came upon a small ice-skating rink, which was lit up with dozens of twinkling lights, making it look very festive. “Brilliant!” exclaimed Ginny. “Come on, Harry!” Harry looked hesitantly at the dozen or so skaters laughing and shouting out to each other. “Why don’t you go and I’ll just watch from here?” “No way!” she insisted. “It’s no fun skating alone!” “Oh — er — well, it’s starting to snow again,” he hedged, adjusting his glasses, “and the snow will make it — um — more difficult to see where you’re going.” “It’s only a few snowflakes.” She held out her hand and caught a few that immediately melted on her glove. “See?” Harry shook his head. “Um, let’s get something to eat instead.” “I’m still full from the chestnuts!” she said, laughing. “If I didn’t know better, Harry, I’d think you were afraid of skating.” “I’m not afraid,” Harry sighed, having run out of excuses. “I don’t really know how to,” he admitted ruefully. “Don’t know how to what?” “Skate,” said Harry, shrugging. At her surprised expression, he elaborated further. “The Dursleys never saw fit to take me skating with them, you see.” “Stupid relatives,” muttered Ginny, then she smiled encouragingly. “It’s easy — just like flying,” she declared, “so you’ll do just fine!” “Not quite like flying,” Harry said wryly, “but all right, let’s give it a go.” Ginny grinned. “Last one on the ice gets to tell Snape his hair smells like flobberworms!” Ten minutes later, Harry was seriously regretting letting Ginny talk him into doing something as foolish as putting his feet in shoes that had blades on them, and to actually try gliding on what was technically merely just several inches of frozen water separating you from an icy, watery death? Sheer madness. “How’s the view down there?” Harry looked up from where he lay flat on his back on the ice to see Ginny trying valiantly not to laugh, but not quite succeeding. Instead of answering, he scowled at her. “Don’t be a grumpy bugger,” she chided him. “C’mon, I’ll teach you how to skate properly.” Harry was tempted to sulk and refuse her offer, but the sight of Ginny’s pink cheeks and sparkling eyes changed his mind. Gingerly, he managed to get onto his feet, wobbling crazily until Ginny grabbed his hands and held firmly on to them. “Just follow my lead.” She slid one foot back, tugging gently on his hand. “Okay, move your right leg forward, now your left, now your right, left, right…” He carefully shuffled along, trying to keep the rhythm she had set. Unfortunately, just as he was saying, “I think I’m getting the hang—”, he lost his balance again and they both tumbled down onto the ice in a heap of arms and legs. “Ginny!” Her eyes were closed and she was breathing rapidly. “Are you all right?” he asked worriedly. “I’m fine,” she said huskily, her warm breath fanning across his face and making him realise how extremely close their lips were. In fact, if he leaned forward just a tiny bit further… Ginny’s eyes suddenly flew open and she gazed up at him, her mouth parted slightly as if in invitation. Throwing caution to the wind, Harry bent his head and kissed her. She kissed him back enthusiastically, and Harry quite forgot that they were sprawled out on the cold ice in a very public area. The sound of clapping, however, served to jolt him out of his Ginny-induced daze, and he looked around to find some of the Muggle skaters watching them with tolerant amusement. His face flaming, Harry carefully pulled himself up and helped Ginny find her footing. They slowly made their way to the edge of the rink, where they collapsed onto a bench, sitting very close to each other. “That was some kiss, Harry,” whispered Ginny, a smile colouring her voice. “What took you so long?” “I wasn’t sure you liked me back,” he confessed. “I certainly didn’t want to presume.” “I never stopped liking you, Harry. I just got better at hiding my feelings.” “Well, you should have un-hidden them,” he grumbled. “You know I’m rubbish at understanding girls and their feelings.” “All right, then, how about this?” Ginny wound her arms around his neck and rubbed her cold nose against his. “I feel that you should stop talking and kiss me again right now.” “That’s more like it,” he said, grinning at her. “Nice and clear instruc—mmph!” Only the fact that the snow was coming down more heavily made them finally stop kissing and decide to head back. Along the way, they chose to warm up first at a small café they had passed earlier on, and they ordered hot chocolat and nibbled on the macarons that the waiter insisted they had to try. “These are fabulous,” said Ginny, devouring a vanilla macaron in two bites. “Like Every Flavour Beans, only with no nasty flavours like earwax or broccoli.” She reached for another, this one a pale pink colour. “I wonder what this is.” She chewed thoughtfully and declared, “Rose.” “Sorry?” asked Harry, savouring his own macaron, a rich, chocolatey one. “It tastes like what a rose smells like,” Ginny attempted to explain. “Here, try it. Open up, you.” She tapped the macaron against his mouth, the brush of her fingers on his lips sending a shiver through him as he opened his mouth dutifully and accepted the treat. “Hey,” he said wonderingly, “you’re right.” “I’m always right,” she said, adopting a lofty air. “Well,” she then demurred, “except maybe for that time when I thought that Madame Pince and Filch were having a hot and heavy affair in the library after hours…” “What?!” “Just kidding,” she giggled. “It was actually Madame Pince and Professor Flitwick.” Harry nearly spilled his chocolat, making Ginny laugh once more. “You’re too easy, Harry.” “And you’re evil,” he gave her a mock glare before shaking his head and smiling, “but I still like you a lot anyway.” “I like you loads too,” she replied, returning his smile, “and I like being here with you.” “I like being here with you too,” he said, taking hold of her hand. “I wish we could stay here a little longer.” Ginny looked around wistfully. “Let’s not go on to Bulgaria and just stay here until New Year’s, what d’you think?” “How about until Valentine’s?” he said, only half-joking. “Let’s stay until St Patrick’s Day!” said Ginny, giggling. “Somehow,” said Harry regretfully, “I think your Mum would have something to say about that.” “Oh, I bet she would,” she sighed. “I guess we’d better get going, then. I’m sure Hermione’s worried herself silly by now,” she said, wrapping her scarf more securely around her neck, “and who knows what Ron has got up to?” Harry reluctantly agreed, and, after getting some macarons to go, they left the café with their arms around each other. As they trudged through the snow, they paused to have an impromptu snowball fight, which quickly ended when Ginny walloped him with a huge one that knocked his glasses askew. With a roar of indignation, he chased her all the way back to the hostel, catching her just as she had made it to the front door. He proceeded to punish her with a kiss — she tasted of chocolate and roses — before they entered the building, laughing and holding hands. “Oh!” exclaimed Ginny, stopping short and causing Harry to bump into her. He looked just in time to see Hermione and Ron jump guiltily apart. Their faces were flushed and Hermione’s hair was even wilder than usual. Harry exchanged amused glances with Ginny; apparently their friends had more than made up their row and had seen fit to take the place of the Muggle couple that had been snogging earlier in the very same loveseat. “Did you bring back any food?” asked Ron nonchalantly while Hermione ducked her head and attempted to tame her hair. “Worked up an appetite, have you?” Ginny said sweetly as Harry sniggered at his friends’ appearances. Ron blinked in confusion. “Well… yeah.” “Here.” Ginny handed him the box of macarons. Ron opened it and brought out an orange one. “What are they?” “They’re macarons,” said Hermione, taking one for herself, “and they’re delicious.” “Macaroni? They don’t look like macaroni to me.” “Macarons, not macaro—” Hermione stopped. “They’re biscuits.” “Oh, why didn’t you say so in the first place?” said Ron and cheerfully began eating. Hermione shook her head but surprisingly, refrained from commenting further. Instead, she looked pointedly at Harry and Ginny’s entwined hands. “I take it you two had fun?” she asked with a knowing smile. “We had a grand time,” replied Harry. “The best ever.” Ginny beamed at him and squeezed his hand. “I’m having a great night myself,” said Ron thickly through a mouthful of macaron. “I’m glad you talked me into this trip, Hermione.” “I wonder if he’ll still be glad when we get to Bulgaria,” murmured Ginny as her brother leaned forward and kissed a flustered Hermione on the cheek. Harry laughed. “Well, I know I will be.” He put his arm around her shoulder. “I’ll be glad all the way back to Hogwarts.” “Me too, Harry.” Ginny snuggled into him. “Me too.” |
| Reviews 15 |
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