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SIYE Time:22:35 on 28th March 2024
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Sunday Morning
By Ginny_Potter_89

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Category: Post-OotP
Characters:Harry/Ginny, Hermione Granger
Genres: Angst, Fluff, Humor, Songfic
Warnings: None
Story is Complete
Rating: PG-13
Reviews: 15
Summary: Harry and Ginny spend a Sunday morning together.
Hitcount: Story Total: 5034







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No, this doesn't have the Maroon 5 song "Sunday Morning" in it, but read it anyway, won't you?




Sunday Morning



“Mmm . . . it’s your turn to make breakfast this morning,” Ginny murmured, snuggling closer to the solid body beside her despite her words.


“I say take-out,” Harry responded, pulling his new wife closer to himself.


“Take-out for breakfast? Harry James!” she smiled against his neck. “No, I want you to make me eggs, and bacon and roasted chips . . . and toast.”


“You want me to make you a four-course breakfast?” Harry asked. “You will owe me, Ginevra Molly Weasley Potter.”


Smack!


“Harry, you know what I told you,” she hid her smirk in the pillow.


He chuckled. “How could I forget?”



*~*~*~*



Clock, clock, clock, clock!


Ginny Weasley’s heels beat a furious pace as she hurried up the stairs to Harry’s flat. Curse him for living at the very top, especially in an all-wizard building in Diagon Alley. Those were always tall. But if she had Apparated, she would have splinched herself, she was so angry.


Clock, clock, clock, clock!


This was so stupid. He knew he was supposed to be at the Ministry an hour ago. They had a press conference to make, and yet he was probably still sleeping. The bum.


“NOW! But I can’t . . . and I don’t know! Well who cares . . . but I care!”


Ginny paused as she heard that familiar hard rock. Not again!


She whipped out her wand and muttered a simple spell to unlock his door. Had this been the first time, she would have covered her ears. But Harry was famous for this -- ask any of the young women in this building. They never shut up about it. Always chatting away on how “cute,” and impossibly “sexy” it was. God it made her want to hurl.


“Life -- is -- but -- a -- TREND. . . For the DEAD! And, well I -- I won’t go down by myself, will I go down with my FRIENDS!?”


And there he was, head banging in his living room with nothing but a white T-shirt, blue boxers and an old Gryffindor tie woven loosely about his neck. He was jumping from one furniture piece to the next (the loveseat to the recliner, over the table), playing air guitar before he went to his knees, ready to jam to the next song as the previous ended with a girlish laugh.


Ginny flicked her wand in the direction of the Muggle music system, that Bombbux thing, and glared at her best friend.


“Oh hi, Gin,” he said, looking up at her as if he hadn’t missed a beat. There was a flush high on his cheeks, and his hair, normally messy, was out of control. “Ah, don’t you love My Chemical Romance?”


“Harry James Potter, where were you supposed to be this morning?” Ginny demanded, placing her hands on her hips and tapping her foot. “Where are you supposed to be now?”


“Aw, but Gin, it was a good song!”


“Dammit, Harry, grow up and get dressed!”


But he was laughing. He was actually laughing at her.


“Harry, we have a conference to hold, that is now an hour and fifteen minutes late!” Ginny snapped. “If you don’t get your bum dressed and --”


“Aye, aye, Captain!” he said, springing to his feet in salute.


Ginny couldn’t help but grin after him as he hurried to his room. She followed to lean against the door, promptly getting a face-full of his Gryffindor tie.


“Oh what to wear!” he was saying loudly, going into his walk-in closet.


She couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped her, quickly turning it into the cough.


He had been like this when he first moved away from the Dursley’s when he turned seventeen. Naturally, her mother, Molly Weasley, had offered him shelter so he could finish up his Auror training. That was after he’d killed Voldemort, and he had made some sort of vow to loosen up a bit and have some fun.


The war had taken a great toll on him, both physically and mentally. Physically, he’d nearly lost a leg; he broke an arm, three ribs, and was absolutely covered in cuts and bruises. Mentally . . . well, he’d lost his mentor Albus Dumbledore. That was particularly difficult for him. They lost Mundungus and Emma Vance from the Order. From school, meaning the DA, well, Ginny’s own ex, Dean Thomas. And Terry. . . Lee Jordan.


Ginny held back a shudder as she recalled Professor McGonagall’s announcements at the Leaving Feast.


It had only happened a week and a half before, and Harry was still in the hospital. He could barely stand, but insisted he go. After much arguing with Madam Pomfrey, she finally decided to let him go nearly, breaking down herself. Ginny, Ron and Hermione conjured a stretcher for him, and they floated him to the Great Hall, much to his dismay. He hated being babied, but they had to save as much of his strength as they could. That was the only way he’d heal faster.


McGonagall had to announce the headmaster’s death first, which was rather difficult for her to get through. And then they had saluted him. It was a hard thing to get through. Harry amazed Ginny. She expected him to break down, or be angry, like he always was, but . . . he was blank. The entire time.


What surprised the entire school was when he stood up and limped to the Head Table on his crutches. He made a speech. A speech about Dumbledore, and Voldemort, and . . . everything. And yet he kept it all together.


It wasn’t until after he was in the hospital wing, back in bed, Ginny alone with him, that he broke down. He had actually waited until after Ron and Hermione had left, asked Ginny to stay . . .


All she could remember was holding him. Rocking him, fighting back her own tears as his grief raged on.


And that was the start of their unbreakable bond. After she graduated Hogwarts, she joined him in Auror training, along with a few of her upper classmates: Zacharias Smith, Blaise Zabini, Draco Malfoy and Tony Holms, then a classmate of Ginny’s from Gryffindor.


No matter how snarky Draco could be, he had still joined the good side. Still didn’t stop him from being a git.


“Ginny? Earth to Ginevra Molly Weasley!”


Ginny promptly slapped him on the arm. Hard.


“Hey -- what was that for?” Harry asked, rubbing his arm.


“You know full well what that was for, Harry James,” Ginny said. “Never call me by my real name.”


“Sor-ry,” he said, dragging out the word.


“Really, Harry, you are impossible!” Ginny cried, beginning to push him out of his bedroom.


He was dressed in black trousers and a matching dress shirt, with a dark red tie. It looked rather good on him, because it brought out the colour of his eyes. He promptly pulled on black robes to complete the look. (“I will never wear just my knickers under these,” he had said once). And look, he even tried to comb his hair. Now, besides it’s usual untidiness, it curled boyishly around his ears, creating a cute fringe just above his eyes, and it barely brushed the base of his neck.


“So what are we doing again?” he asked, grabbing his apartment key off the kitchen bar.


“We have that big press conference-slash-Ministry party-slash ball thing today!” Ginny said.


“What a mouthful,” he grinned over his shoulder as he led her out of the apartment.


“What -- did you forget again?” Ginny asked, exasperated.


“No!” Harry said indignantly as he locked his door. “I just wanted to be ‘fashionably
late --’”


“Again,” said Ginny. “You’re supposed to be our team leader, Harry!”


“I know, I know,” he said, standing in the middle of the hallway. He hugged her. “It won’t happen again, I promise. I just had to have a little jam session, is all.”


“You still are a kid at heart, Harry.”


“Right-o!”

And they Apparated from the hallway with a resounding pop, unknowingly watched by Harry’s many female neighbours.



*~*~*~*



Ginny scowled as she heard My Chemical Romance playing on the Muggle Bombbux thing again. She and Harry had finally moved on to the kitchen


“You are never going to get rid of that, are you?”


Harry grinned over his shoulder at her. “Still don’t like them, do you?”


“No, and you’d better not play that around our children -- at least not until their thirty.”


“Yes, dear.” He kissed her cheek as he served her with toast.


There was a moment of quiet, the only sound of clinking dishes as Harry served himself a plate of breakfast. He plopped into the chair opposite her and began to squirt ketchup all over his eggs.


“Remember the ball?” Ginny asked, smiling.


That I could never forget,” Harry said. “Did I ever tell you why Tony played such a huge part in our future relationship?”


“No.”



*~*~*~*



Harry raised his feet and set them on the top of his desk. Resting his head on laced fingers, he sighed and closed his eyes.


“What am I going to do with you, Potter?” he murmured to himself.


It might as well be over for him by now. Why? Oh, nothing, really.


Except for the fact that he had fallen head over heels for a certain Ginevra Molly Weasley. Hard.


“So, how’s the lovesick hero doing, then?”


Harry smirked at his good friend and colleague Tony.


“Terribly,” he answered. “I can’t say it. I can’t tell her.”


“What do you mean, you can’t tell her?!” Tony demanded. “Mate, you nearly did it yesterday, you can do it tonight.”


Harry frowned.


“Can’t you see it?” Tony went on. “A ball? The mood is right, you’re in one of those secluded balconies the boys are setting up -- she’s in red.”


Harry laughed. “You’re hopeless.”


“You know what, if you don’t confess to her, I’ll confess my dying love to her!”


“Tony -- you’re dating Susan Bones for Christ’s sake.”


“Not anymore,” the other man corrected him. “I wouldn’t mind getting laid, though.”


“All right, all right!”



*~*~*~*



“I don’t believe it, quiet little Tony Holms did that,” said Ginny. “But Ron was still a soul benefactor, wasn’t he? Along with Hermione. Those two bought me those robes, you know.”



*~*~*~*



“Ginny . . . wake up, you need to get ready for the ball,” said a voice.


Ginny inhaled sharply, tiredly opening her eyes to see her roommate Hermione Granger hovering over her.


“Oh . . . oh yeah. . . Right,” Ginny mumbled, rolling off her bed.


She woke herself up over a cup of tea.


“So . . . will you do it tonight?” Hermione asked.


“I hope I can,” Ginny answered her best friend. “I really hope.”


“You’ll be able to do it,” Hermione said. “Besides, I picked out some robes for you.”


“What? You -- what?”


“Yes, and you’re going to wear them, and you’re going to like them!” Hermione scolded.


“But, Hermione, I can’t --”


“Are you going to break my heart by refusing to take my gift?” Hermione made puppy eyes.


Ginny opened and closed her mouth several times.



“Then it’s settled,” Hermione said. “Hurry up and change so I can do your hair and make-up. The robes are in my room. . . You’re going to make his jaw drop.”


Ginny went into Hermione’s room to find a set of white robes and a matching white dress.


“Oh my God!” she gasped, her hands jumping to her mouth in surprise. Those must have cost a fortune.


They were so beautiful. The hems were sewn with matching white ribbon, a silver broach on the chest area. The white dress beside it was almost a retro type of dress, in which the long skirt flowed out just the tiniest bit. It was a strapless dress.


Ginny couldn’t help the grin that slid onto her face. Hermione was quite right.


He wouldn’t know what hit him.


An hour later, when Hermione seemed satisfied with Ginny’s look, she finally put her in front of a mirror.


Ginny gasped.


The robes rested softly on her shoulders, and her hair was up in an elegant bun, with a few well placed tendrils cascading down onto her face. She wore light make-up, barely visible, but yet still there.


“It’s perfect!” Ginny smiled. “Thanks, Hermione!”


“You owe the thanks to Ron, really,” said Hermione. “I mean, he’s the one that picked them out.”



*~*~*~*



“I thought she would be behind that whole conspiracy,” Harry said. “Well . . . personally, I couldn’t wait to get those robes off of you that night.”


Ginny’s head ducked, her face having gone red.



*~*~*~*


Harry shifted nervously as he waited for Ginny. This time she was late. And Merlin, she was making it harder on him by the second. If she didn’t come in the next minute or so, he would bolt.


He had carefully chosen midnight blue robes for the occasion, only changing his shirt to a white dress, and his tie to a sleek black one. It worked, and pulled the look together completely.


“Mate, calm down,” said Tony, seeming to sense Harry’s irony. “She’ll be here, don’t worry. You just think about what you’re going to say.”


“R-right.”

Harry took a draft of his drink, which had a hint of Firewhiskey in it. He didn’t really drink, but Tony suggested it to calm his nerves. It hadn’t worked yet.


“Holy shit, there she is,” said Tony suddenly. “Wow -- I can see why she’s late.”


Harry looked in his direction, and nearly dropped the glass he was holding.


There she was -- a vision in white. And she was smiling right at him.


“Jay-zuz,” was all he said, gulping. “I can’t do this.”


“Yes, you can and you will,” said Tony, pushing him in her direction. “Go on! Good luck, mate.”


With one final push, Harry, whose legs felt like lead, went to her at the entrance of the Ministry Hall. Her cheeks were flushed from the obvious winter cold, but she smiled as she spotted him coming near her.


“Hi Harry!” she said brightly as he finally joined her. “You look handsome.”


“Gin,” he said. His mouth was dry. “You look . . . amazing.”


“You really think so?” Ginny asked. “I thought it was a bit too much, but --”


He cut her off. “No, it’s . . . beautiful. . .”


She smiled.


“Gin, I would you mind a dance?” Harry asked. This was it. It was now or never.


“Sure.”


The jazz band at the head of the room struck up a new tune. A ballad.


Perfect, thought Harry with a grin.


“You give your hand to me. And then you say hello. And I can hardly speak; my heart is beating so.”


Harry led Ginny into the middle of the dance floor, resting his hand on the curve of her hip as she wrapped an arm around his shoulders, using the other hand to lace her fingers with his. And then they swayed to the music.


“And anyone can tell. You think you know me well. Well you don’t know me. . . Mmm. No, you don’t know the one who dreams of you at night. And longs to kiss your lips. And longs to hold you tight. Ooh, I’m just a friend. That’s all I’ve ever been. ’Cause you don’t know me.”


“Nice entrance, by the way,” Harry said. “I think you had half the males drooling.”


She smacked his arm. “I knew that already!” she said. “You didn’t need to remind me.”


“Don’t worry,” Harry said, pulling her toward him possessively, “I won’t let them get to you.”


Ginny’s cheek rested against his now, and she reached up wrap her arms around him. “Thanks, Harry.”


“For I never knew the art of making love. Though my heart aches with love for you. Afraid and shy, I let my chance go by. A chance that you might love me, too. You give your hand to me. And then you say goodbye. I watch you walk away. Beside the lucky guy.”


Just say it, Harry coached himself. It’s now or never, Harry. What have you got to lose?


“H-hey Gin?” Harry asked.


“Yes?” Ginny answered, drawing away slightly to look at him.


“Well, there’s something I need to tell you,” Harry said. But where would he begin? “I guess I can start with how it all happened.”


“How what all happened?” Ginny asked.


Harry took a deep breath. “Well, it started out four years ago, really,” he said, still swaying to the music. “There was this kid that was fresh out of Hogwarts, you know -- he had everything going for him. Job offerings everywhere, he decided to do what he really wanted. But there something missing, see. . . Now, he spent many restless nights trying to figure it out, but it wasn’t until that very thing came back into his life that he realized what was happening to him, and what he really wanted. And then he realized how badly he wanted it, but he was too afraid to say anything, simply because he was afraid he’d lose her. . . And her friendship meant everything to him.


“So three years went by, and he didn’t say a word. Just being around her made him happy. They were the best of friends, but now . . . now he has the balls to tell her how he really feels. He’s ready to put his heart on his sleeve, to tell her how he really feels, you know. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen, but he wants her so bad, he can’t turn back now.”


Ginny looked puzzled. “Harry -- what’re you trying to say?”


Harry took a deep breath, then smiled down at her. “I’m trying to say that I love you, Ginny Weasley. That I’ve been head over heels for you since I was eighteen, and I want to marry you and grow old with you and have children with you and watch them grow.”


By now they had stopped dancing completely. She stared up at him with wide eyes, her cheeks flushed.


“Sappy, I know,” Harry said.


But she obviously didn’t think so, considering her lips crushed against his the next moment. Harry felt his knees grow weak with the force of her kiss, and immediately responded, wrapping his arms around her.


“I-I guess not,” Harry muttered when she finally drew away, resting his forehead against hers.


“Uh-uh,” she shook her head slightly, then closed her eyes. “But I’m glad you know how I feel now.”


He grinned, leaning in to kiss her again.



*~*~*~*



“So what d’you wanna do today?” Harry asked, radio station to a different one.


“Mmm -- I dunno,” Ginny said, taking her dirty dishes to the sink. “What do you wanna do?”


“I dunno,” Harry said as a ballad beat began to play on the jazz station. “Hmm.”


He took her in his arms and began to dance with her, pressing his chin to her temple. “Let’s be lazy, mm?”


“Sounds good,” she said.


“Tell me when will you be mine? Tell me, quando, quando, quando. We can share a love divine. Please don’t make me wait again.”


She smiled at him as he gave her a good spin.


“When will you say yes to me?” A female voice joined in with the man. “When will you say yes to me? You mean happiness to me. . . Oh my love, please tell me when.”


“Nothing sounds really good,” Harry murmured.


“Say its me that you adore. And then darling, tell me when. . . Oh my darling tell me when. . . And then darling tell me when. . . Oh, my darling, tell me when. Ooooh,
when . . .”



~End~


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