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Remembering Love | ||||||
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Category: Post-Hogwarts, Post-OotP Characters:Harry/Ginny, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley Genres: Action/Adventure, Fluff, General, Humor, Romance Warnings: None Rating: PG-13 Reviews: 14 Summary: *** The author has been reminded via the e-mail address on file that this story is listed as incomplete and has not been updated in over 2 years *** As Ginny beings to write a book on her husband, she also begins to remember how she became Mrs. Harry Potter. The story of how our favorite couple fell in love. Hitcount: Story Total: 16224; Chapter Total: 4820 Author's Notes: Lot's of drama and fluff in this chapter. I had fun writing it. Yes, I did use a quote from the sixth book. I love it too much to leave it out. |
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Ginny assembled her necessary baking ingredients as Harry watched her. She handed the pan to him so he could grease it, which he did carefully, trying not to get any uneven spaces. He had grown up a lot over the past year. He now towered over Ginny, standing at 6’1”. His shoulders had broadened as he filled out, his torso and arms now full of muscle. His jaw was square, and his nose straight and strong. His hair was still ridiculously messy, but it was longer now, and curled innocently at the nape of his neck. Sometimes she just wanted to reach out and wrap her fingers around it. She smiled slightly at him. After the pan was back, she went through the steps one at a time. He listened intently as she talked about breaking the eggs and pouring the salt, but was very confused when she didn’t measure the sugar and just started pouring. “What are you doing?” he asked, and she stopped pouring. “I’m measuring my sugar, Harry,” she said in a patient voice. He frowned. “That’s not measuring. That just pouring in a senseless amount of sugar.” “Why do you think they taste so good?” Ginny shot back, her eyes twinkling. “That’s the Weasley way to make everything. There are specific things that you measure, like salt and eggs, but otherwise it’s all up to you. You make them as sweet as you want, or as doughy as you want, or with as much chips as you want-” she poured in a liberal amount of chocolate chips “-because you’re making them the way you want them to be made.” She popped a chip into her mouth and grinned at him. “So that’s the Weasley secret,” he mused, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. I’ll have to try it sometime.” Ginny laughed and continued to pour. She finally handed the bowl to him and instructed him to mix it all together, very carefully, and not to spill any. She worked on cleaning up as he leaned against the counter, stirring slowly. Finally, he looked up at her thoughtfully. “You know, I like this,” he said. “Cooking with you.” He gave her a bittersweet smile and continued stirring. “It helps me relax, I think. You help me relax - help me forget the world for awhile.” Ginny smiled at him and absentmindedly toyed with the latch to the box of chocolate chips. “That’s why I love to bake when things are going wrong. I spent a lot of time in the kitchen with Mum after my first year. I think that’s what helped me get over a lot of what happened.” She looked faraway for a moment before looking back at him. “You get caught up in measuring and stirring that you forget what’s happening in the world around you, and by the time you’re done baking, you forget what you were worrying about earlier that day. It just makes you forget.” The two shared a smile, knowing exactly what the other was thinking. After a moment, Harry gave a small laugh before returning to his mixing, while Ginny bit her lip and disappeared into the pantry to put the ingredients away. She straightened up from where she was storing the flour on the lower shelf and turned, only to find Harry standing over her. “What’s wrong?” she asked, seeing the strange look on his face. He reached out and fingered a curl that had escaped from her braid. “Did you really give up on me?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper. “Are you really over me?” She couldn’t move. Not with him looking at her that way. His eyes, had they not been hidden by his glasses, would have melted her in an instant. His breath was hot on her face as his other hand sought hers out, capturing it in his palm, rough from years of Quidditch. She couldn’t think when he was looking at her like that…. She nodded. Immediately his face showed defeat. He opened his mouth. The roar of the living room fireplace cut Harry off. He jerked his head up, startled. “Ginny, we’re back! Mmmm, you baking biscuits? They sure smell good!” Ron’s voice drifted into the pantry, creating a rift between her and Harry. She looked up at him with sad eyes before brushing past him and entering the kitchen again, plastering a smile on her face. “I’m in here, Ron, you don’t have to yell,” she said calmly, picking up the mixing where Harry had left off. She began to drop balls of dough onto the baking pan as Ron came in, shortly followed by Hermione. Harry came out of the pantry, and Ginny immediately felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. What had possessed her to say yes? To say, Yes, Harry, I am over you. Why would she say that? His face was flushed, and his eyes downcast. “Harry!” Hermione cried, and immediately rushed to throw her arms around his neck. Harry grinned and smothered her in a hug. As Ron greeted him, Hermione sidled up to Ginny, looking at her curiously. “When did Harry get here?” she asked softly. “About an hour ago,” Ginny answered, not taking her eyes from the bowl. “He said that he was sick of his aunt and uncle, and wondered if he could stay here. I told him he could, and we’ve just been talking for awhile. I’m teaching him how to make Weasley biscuits.” “That’s not all, is it?” Ginny sighed and turned to Hermione. “No, it’s not, but I really don’t want to talk about it right now.” She pulled on her oven mitts and picked up the pan, carefully sliding it into the hot oven. She set the timer and watched as Mrs. Weasley greeted Harry, claiming, “Oh, Harry, dear, you’re far too thin. We really must get some good food into you.” Harry had laughed at this. Biscuits were soon baking, filling the room with the smell of cinnamon and chocolate. Mrs. Weasley gave Ginny a knowing smile before kissing her daughter’s temple and giving her a tight squeeze. Ginny felt herself getting teary eyed before excusing herself to the loo. But she ran up to he room and flung herself onto her bed, instead. For a moment she only lay there, and then she was screaming into her pillow, pummeling her bed for all it was worth. She didn’t cry. She couldn’t - no, wouldn’t - cry over him again. Not after five years of him ignoring. She wasn’t going to waste her tears on him if he wasn’t going to love her. But hadn’t he just asked, in that low, husky voice, if she was really over him? He had looked ready to convince her otherwise. “Tell me what happened.” Hermione was suddenly sitting on her bed, looking sympathetic. Ginny sighed and sat up, blowing the hair out of her face. “We were making biscuits earlier, and we were talking and having a good time, and I sent him to mix the ingredients. I went into the pantry to put things away, and I turned around and he was standing there. He started playing with my hair, and then he asked if I was really over him.” Ginny felt tears well in her eyes. “Oh, Hermione! I told him that I was! That I was over him!” She gave a pitiful moan and buried her head in her pillow again, squeezing her eyes shut tightly. Hermione patted her back comfortingly. “What did he do?” “Nothing,” came Ginny’s muffled, but obviously bitter, voice. “He just looked at me with a stupid expression on his face. And then I heard Ron, and so I left him in the pantry and started talking to Ron. He hasn’t looked at me since.” Ginny finally flipped over and sighed, her eyes red and her cheeks still wet. “Oh, look at me, sobbing all over the place.” She sat up and hiccoughed , wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. She gave Hermione a water smile. “You must think I’m so childish.” Hermione pulled the younger girl into a hug. “You’re not childish. You have every right to cry.” Ginny nodded and hiccoughed again, her face buried in Hermione’s shoulder. Closing her eyes, she could still feel the warmth of his breath on her face, the rough feel of his hands as he held hers… the fire that danced in his eyes as he looked at her. “Alright, enough moping,” Hermione said suddenly, pulling away from her and standing up. “Let’s paint our nails, and then we’ll watch Ron pummel Harry at wizard’s chess.” Ginny laughed, feeling better already. -- “Checkmate,” Ron announced, grinning cheekily at Harry. Harry sighed and shook his head ruefully at Ron. “Someday, Ron, someone is going to beat you at chess, and you’ll get off your high horse,” Harry answered, throwing a protesting pawn at the redhead. Ron laughed and scooped up the pieces, storing them in their box. Ginny smiled slightly at the pair and glanced out the window. To her surprise, she found feeble rays of afternoon sun peering through the clouds. She gave a cry of delight and jumped up, speeding though the kitchen and slipping out the back door. The grass was wet and sticky, and clung to her bare feet and the bottoms of her jeans. She bent and rolled them up, smiling up at the sun. “Finally. A break from all the dreary rain!” Hermione said, stepping out to join Ginny. She, at least, had the common sense to put shoes on before venturing out. Ron and Harry followed; Harry, however, lingered near the door, his face skyward. Ginny waiting until Ron and Hermione began to walk off together towards the lake before she moved back towards Harry. She mimicked him, looking up. “Something wrong?” she asked casually, folding her arms over her chest. He shook his head and didn’t answer. She couldn’t take it anymore. “Are you angry at me?” she blurted. He looked at her surprised. “Because it you are, I’d really like to know what I did wrong.” “You didn’t do anything, Ginny,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair and causing it to stick up even more. “Then why are you-” “You didn’t do anything!” he shouted, finally looking at her with a fire in his eyes again. “Nothing,” he said bitterly. She fell silent, her eyes displaying the hurt that she felt. He sighed and shook his head before turning on his heel. But then, he stopped. Ginny could only stare as he turned, a funny expression on his face. His eyes bright and his jaw set, he moved back towards her again. He placed his hands on the sides of her face and brought his mouth crashing down onto hers. His lips were soft and warm against hers. As he moved his hand, she reached up and caught it in her own, marveling at how smooth they could feel when he was holding her hand. She felt him smile against her mouth as he kissed her. After several long moments - or it might have been half an hour - or possibly several sunlit days - they broke apart. He rested his forehead against hers, sighing. His eyes were closed, but he was smiling. “How long?” she whispered, searching his face for answers. “How long have you been feeling this way?” He opened his eyes and straightened, smoothing her hair away from her face. “Since Christmas,” he answered. He grinned faintly. “I remember seeing you on Christmas Eve with mistletoe in your hear when you came down the stairs, but then Ron took it out… he took away my chance to kiss you. I wanted to, you have to know how much I wanted to, but I thought that Ron would overreact, or you would.” She looked at him, unbelieving. “Seven months? You’ve fancied me for seven months and didn’t tell me?” He looked embarrassed, but quickly frowned at her. “What about you? You said you were over me,” he reminded her, confusion taking over his eyes. She groaned and let her head drop to her chest. “The entire schools knew that I had an enormous crush on you in my first, second, and third year. When people saw that I went to the Yule Ball with Neville, they wondered if I still liked you. I told them I was over you, and now it’s just been a natural response. I didn’t want word getting back to you that I still liked you.” She looked up, her eyes bright and her mouth set in a shy smile. “I’m not over you, though. I think my brain just shut off and went on autopilot.” He laughed at her. “You’re forgiven, then.” She stood on her tiptoes and gave him a searing kiss, one that gave him a silly grin. “Let’s go for a walk,” she whispered, grabbing his hand again. Harry followed, and together, they walked away, towards destiny. |
| Reviews 14 |
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