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Apron Strings | ||||
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Category: Post-HBP Characters:None Genres: Angst, Fluff, Humor, Romance Warnings: None Story is Complete Rating: PG Reviews: 29 Summary: "Stupid," Ginny muttered, "that's what they are, stupid!" And stupidest of all...was him Hitcount: Story Total: 9047 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: I'd just like to mention that I do NOT support the theory that Ginny was pissed off at Harry for dumping her. I believe she understood and accepted his decision. Uhh..that actually directly contradicts my story, but I needed Gin to be grumpy for this story. So, just pretend she was having a really bad day! |
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Apron Strings “Stupid,” she muttered, “that’s what they are- stupid!” “I’ve always thought so,” Hermione Granger agreed, closing the book she’d been reading. Ginny Weasley scowled at her friend. “Oops, sorry,” Hermione threw up her hands and left the kitchen, slinking away exaggeratedly. Comedian, everyone’s a comedian! Ginny thought to herself in disgust. Normally, Hermione could not be included in that category. But Hermione was acting differently today- Ginny suspected it had something (or rather everything) to do with the snogging session she had caught Hermione and Ron in, in the pantry that morning. It had been faintly nauseating, but she like a good friend, had left the room without a single joke- even though she’d been sorely tempted plague their lives out. And how had Hermione repaid her? Exactly how had she repaid her? The indignant exclamation turned into a genuine question…Ginny for the life of her couldn’t remember exactly what Hermione had done to annoy her. Harry on the other hand! Her expression darkened, as she banged her mother’s precious china tea set around, none too gently. Why was she stuck in the kitchen cleaning up anyway? Why couldn’t Fleur do that? Did she think that now that she was married to Bill, she wouldn’t have to work or something? Oh, wait a minute…Fleur was on her honeymoon. Today had been her wedding day. Ginny had momentarily forgotten about that. Now that she remembered, it only served to increase her annoyance. Weddings! They were overrated. With all the stupid flowers and stupid people and stupid lacy white tablecloths and stupid brides looking at stupid grooms with love light shining in their eyes. Stupid, stupid, stupid! And stupidest of all was her bridesmaid’s dress- the pale gold concoction she had put on this morning, fondly imagining how a certain someone would start throwing dark gazes in her direction and be at her feet begging to be taken back by nightfall. She glanced involuntarily down at her feet. No one in sight! Muttering expletives under her breath, she looked around the kitchen and found to her secret dismay that there was nothing left to tidy up or clean. She’d done it all. Her mother would have a heart attack when she came down to the kitchen the next morning. Well, it was what she deserved- leaving Ginny to do the cleaning up, all on her own! To be sure, Ginny had volunteered, but the least her mother could have done was protest and say it was all right to leave it for morning. Oh no... She had protested- and said it was all right to leave it for morning. Well, she should have known that Ginny wouldn’t listen. Stupid apron, Ginny thought gloomily, as she unsuccessfully tried to stretch her arms around to her back to undo the knotted strings. “Let me help you with that,” Ginny stifled a scream as she turned around to see who it was, but she relaxed. It was only Harry. Only! “It’s okay,” she said stiffly, “I can manage,” “No, you can’t,” And before she knew what was happening, he turned her around gently, and started undoing the knot. She shivered slightly as his knuckles brushed against her lower back. He felt her shiver, she knew he did, but he said nothing and continued untangling the knot as if nothing had happened. Stupid git! “Who the hell tied this?” he said in exasperation, seven and a half minutes later. She shot him a nasty look over her shoulder and he grinned at her. Now he was grinning at her. Who did he think he was? Damned idiot! “Aren’t you done yet,” she asked, impatiently tapping her foot on the ground. “No,” “Hurry up,” She was deliberately provoking him, trying to stir up a reaction. Anything, anything would do! She hated him being so calm and cool over the entire summer, while she had spent it fuming, cursing and generally making everyone’s life miserable. But oh no, he couldn’t show any anger at the circumstances that had caused their break up! He was fine- laughing and joking with the twins, helping Mrs. Weasley around the kitchen, explaining the rudiments of a television set to Mr. Weasley, playing Quidditch with her brothers. But he refused to be provoked. Not even the apron strings were provoking him! “I think we need to cut them,” he said, looking around for a pair of scissors. He couldn’t find any, and ended up with a rather sharp looking knife in his hand. Ginny’s eyes widened and she gulped audibly, but she refused to tell him to be careful or to squeal in horror or anything like that because… Well, she wasn’t sure exactly why, but she just wouldn’t. She wouldn’t! He was very careful though, and resting one hand lightly on her waist, he gently cut through her apron strings. Her apron, a large voluminous white thing bordered by purple pansies, fell to the floor and she turned to him clad only in her simple pale gold bridal gown. “Thank you,” she said stiffly, taking the knife from his hand- in case he got any ideas- and putting it back in its drawer. She slammed the drawer shut loudly and stood there, with her back to him. “What are you doing up so late?” she asked. It didn’t count if she spoke to him with her back turned, she told herself. “Couldn’t sleep- heard Hermione on the stairs, and she told me you were down here. Thought I’d keep you company.” “I was just going to bed,” she said haughtily. “I don’t mind going with you,” he said cheekily. Oh ho! So he thought he could be cheeky now did he? She’d show him. “You gave up that privilege a while ago,” she informed him silkily. “Ginny,” But she interrupted him with a polite, “Good night Harry.” She walked towards the door, slowly and deliberately, giving the impression of dignity- but really, she wanted him to stop her. She wanted him to stop her, pull her towards him and kiss her and tell her that he couldn’t live without her, Voldemort or no Voldemort. He did grab her hand as she passed by, but he didn’t pull her into his arms. “We’re leaving tomorrow,” he said seriously. Leaving tomorrow? She felt a surge of irritation. Stupid mysterious git. Leaving tomorrow! She supposed he was expecting her to ask exactly where he was going and why he was going and when he’d be back. Well she wouldn’t. So she stayed silent, barely deigning to look at him. “Me and Ron and Hermione- we’re leaving tomorrow. We…we won’t be coming back for a while.” As an afterthought he added, “at least I won’t. I suppose they’ll want to visit their families from time to time.” Still she said nothing. “We have to go after Voldemort, you see,” he was talking to her as if she was a small child. “And here I was thinking you were off on a world trip!” she said sarcastically. “Think what you want,” he snapped, “I just don’t want you to be worried when you wake up tomorrow and see that I’m gone!” He had said ‘I’. Not ‘we’. “Oh I’m above worrying about you, Potter!” she snarled. “In fact, I don’t actually give a damn about what happens to you,” She had upset him with that, she noted triumphantly, as she saw the shimmer of hurt that shot through his face. She hoped he’d insult her back, but he didn’t. He just stood there looking at her and she found herself softening somewhat. But she steeled herself up. It wouldn’t do to get soft. So instead of doing what she really wanted to do which was to rest her head on his shoulder she snapped, “Do you have to stare at me like that?” “I can’t help it,” was his automatic response. “Why the hell not?” “Because I happen to be in love with you,” They both froze. He hadn’t meant to say that and she hadn’t been expecting it. Not from him. He hadn’t even been able to tell her he liked her without turning as red as a beetroot. And that had been when they’d been going out together! And then he broke up with her, broke her heart and ignored her the whole summer, and now he was standing in her mother’s kitchen, having the audacity to tell her that he was in love with her! Bastard. “If you loved me,” she whispered, feeling traitorous tears gathering up behind her eyelids, “You wouldn’t have let me go.” He reached up a hand to cup her face, “You know I had to, Ginny.” And suddenly those damn tears were rolling down her cheeks, and her nose was turning red and there was nothing she could do about it. She knew Harry had a horror of teary females, she’d heard him speak of Cho with great discomfort, but there was nothing she could do. He didn’t seem too perturbed though- he gently brushed them away with a calloused hand. “I’m not crying about you,” she informed him, even as he wiped her tears, “I’m crying because I’ll miss Ron and Hermione. I couldn’t care less about you,” “I know,” he assured her, the ends of his mouth turning up crookedly. She found it adorable when he did that. “Don’t go,” she whispered, doing what she’d wanted to do earlier and leaning her head against his shoulder. “Don’t say that,” he said softly, closing his eyes as he stroked her hair. He’d been wanting to do that whole summer. “Take me with you,” “You know I won’t,” He hadn’t said ‘can’t’ and she was grateful for that. “You’re taking Ron and Hermione,” “They’re different,” “How?” “They’re blokes.” “Even Hermione?” “Especially Hermione,” Ginny laughed and then stifled a sob. “Promise me one thing?” he said softly. “What?” “Be careful,” “I’d tell you that- but it wouldn’t make a difference. And it’s not like I care anyway,” she muttered, turning her face away. “I know you don’t,” he said, amused. “Not one little bit,” “Not one little bit,” They stared at each other for a split second and then he bent down and gathered her up in his arms and kissed her, which was what she’d been wanting him to do whole summer. He kissed her hard, as if trying to draw out her very essence, so he could carry it along with him when he left. They finally broke apart, panting slightly. Harry’s eyes were dark and Ginny knew that her face was aflame and her hair dishevelled. “You don’t care about me at all then?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. “Not at all,” she replied, reaching up to kiss his nose. “So you just-“ “Only because I feel sorry for you,” “I see.” They were quiet for a moment and then Ginny steered herself to ask the dreaded question, “When exactly are you leaving?” “At daybreak,” She didn’t know how she’d live without him. She didn’t know what she’d do when he was gone. “Make sure you come back,” she said helplessly. “I thought you didn’t care?” He kissed her mouth gently. “I don’t,” she informed him, returning his kiss. “Mum and Dad like you, that’s all.” “Good to know I have your parents’ approval,” he said with a wry grin. “Hold me,” Ginny whispered, resting her head tenderly against his chest and he obligingly wrapped his arms around her. “Harry?” “Hmm?” “What shall I do when you’re gone?” “Go back to Hogwarts and keep out of trouble. I’ll feel a lot better knowing you’re safe,” “I won’t know though,” she said sadly, watching a tear travel down by her nose and splash onto his shirt. “I’ll be safe,” A glance at the clock showed her it was past two. Harry realised the time too, and gently steered her towards the door. “You better go to sleep, Gin,” he murmured, kissing her neck, as they stood at the foot of the stairs. “Will you come up with me?” He looked into her face probingly and his eyes darkened. “Do you have a skimpy nightdress?” “Very skimpy,” “Then I’ll come.” They mounted the stairs softly, until they reached her room on the second floor. Without preamble, Ginny opened the door and they entered. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in your room before,” Harry commented looking around. There wasn’t much to see though, since it was so dark. “Close your eyes,” Ginny told him, as she started taking off her dress and because he was that sort of boy, he obligingly shut them until she said, “open.” He opened his eyes and surveyed her thin white nightdress. “I like it,” he murmured with a grin. She hesitated. She knew what would happen now. He’d say goodnight and then leave, and she’d fall asleep knowing that when she woke up he wouldn’t be there. “I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep,” he said, reading her mind. Ginny slipped under the covers of her cosy white bed, and Harry lay beside her, his arms around her, holding her close. “Harry?” She felt sleepy despite herself. “I know, you love me,” he said, and she pictured his wry grin in her mind. “You are a git,” she murmured, closing her eyes. “But sometimes, just sometimes, you hit the nail on the head.” He was stroking her hair now, and occasionally murmuring little endearments to her, and she knew that he would kill Voldemort and come home. Because some things were just very, very obvious. When Ginny woke up the next morning with sunlight on her face, he had gone. She could hear Mrs. Weasley’s wails from downstairs, and her father’s murmuring words of comfort. They must have found out already. She yawned and stretched, then walked to her window. The sun had almost risen and the sky was streaked with oranges and pinks. It was going to be a beautiful day. |
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