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I'll Be There For You | ||||||
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Category: Alternate Universe, Buried Gems Characters:All Genres: Comedy, Fluff, Romance Warnings: None Story is Complete Rating: PG-13 Reviews: 311 Summary: When your life's a little bit ... sucky, you can count on your friends. Well, most of them anyway ... well, some of them at least ... maybe just one. Hitcount: Story Total: 80466; Chapter Total: 8794 Author's Notes: Okay ... erm, don't shoot ... just read *smiles sweetly and thanks the beta, goingbacktosquareone* |
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Harry Potter pushed open the door of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes and stomped inside. He glared at the paper pumpkins hanging from the ceiling and scowled at the rubber bats hanging in a row above the register. He leaned against the counter and glowered at a barrel of orange and black lollipops. “Well, if it isn’t Mr I-Love-Halloween,” George said cheerfully. “I hate Halloween,” Harry said grumpily. He crossed his arms and set his jaw firmly. “Yeah, I reckon you’ve a right to,” said Ron quietly, shooting a significant glance at George who nodded and moved into the back room silently. “I put up with a lot, you know,” Harry said as soon as George was gone. Ron nodded sympathetically. “I don’t particularly want to get dressed up and go and celebrate the twenty-first anniversary of my parents’ murder.” Harry picked up a fake wand from the counter and glared at it. “You could talk to Kingsley,” Ron said tentatively. “If it bothers you-” “Gee, Ron, why would that bother me?” Harry asked sarcastically. “We’ll all be there,” said Ron quietly. “Dad made them change the seating arrangements so you can sit with us instead of up the front.” “You know what I’d like to do on Thursday?” Harry asked, hearing a ruthless quality to his own voice. “I would like to stay home and drink until it doesn’t hurt anymore.” He shook the fake wand viciously and it turned into a haddock. “Harry-” “Oh, don’t worry,” Harry sighed, throwing the wand back on the counter. “I’m not going to.” “Good, because if you did, I’d have to hurt you myself,” Ron said. He picked up the fake wand and twirled it thoughtfully. “Are you bringing anyone?” “No,” Harry shook his head and tipped it back, letting out a deep breath. “I have enough trouble with women; I don’t need to drag one along to an event where I will spend the night looking for solace in the bottom of my Firewhisky glass.” “Well … at least the Firewhisky will be free,” Ron said with a shrug. Harry stared at him for a moment before he laughed. “Did you know we’ve been friends for eleven years?” Ron asked when Harry sobered. “That’s half our lives.” “Eleven years since we saved Hermione from that troll,” Harry mused, leaning his elbows on the counter. “Yeah, she owes us,” Ron added, leaning back with a smirk. “I’m sure you can think of some way to collect,” Harry said with a visible shudder. Ron grinned at him and Harry held up a hand. “Don’t say anything.” “Wasn’t going to,” Ron said innocently. “I’ll see you Thursday,” said Harry, straightening up. “I won’t be in a good mood.” “I won’t anticipate that then,” Ron said lightly. With a slight wave, Harry left the shop and stood indecisively on the footpath outside. He looked at his watch. There was still an hour before Ginny could be expected home. He could go back to his flat and shower and return before she got home. Harry needed to see her. Ron was great but even he wanted to avoid the real issue that everyone refused to acknowledge. Plus, sooner or later Ron’s thoughts always turned to sex. Not that he could blame him, really, Harry thought as he Apparated back to his flat. His own thoughts frequently turned to sex — and he wasn’t actually getting any, unlike Ron. Harry flicked through the Owl post he’d left on the table that morning. He threw out three envelopes sealed with a kiss, a flyer for Quikspell courses and a lumpy envelope that he knew from bitter experience contained feminine underwear before settling down to peruse the real mail. Six bills, a letter from Molly Weasley inquiring if he needed dress robes, new shoes or a date for Thursday and an invitation from Witch Weekly asking for a commemorative interview did absolutely nothing to improve his mood. Abandoning the thought of a shower, Harry turned on the spot and arrived with a crack in Ginny’s sitting room. It was deserted, as he had expected. An empty cup stood on the coffee table and an old issue of Witch Weekly lay crumpled on the floor. Harry kicked the offending magazine to one side and flopped down onto the couch,picking listlessly at the blanket Ginny kept draped over the back. It was the blanket they huddled under when they listened to Quidditch and it was the blanket they’d laid on the night he’d taken her to star gaze after Jeremy Pollock had dumped her. It was the one he knew she wrapped around her feet to keep them warm while she read Quidditch play books at night and the one she would cover him with when he fell asleep at her place after night shift. Harry skimmed his fingers across the worn threads and pulled it off the back of the couch. It smelled like her. Harry drew the blanket around himself and curled up on the couch, sighing heavily. “Stop snoring, Harry,” Ginny said grumpily. Harry cracked his eyes open but squeezed them shut again and pulled the blanket over his head. “Leave me alone,” he mumbled into the cushions. “Well, if you break into my flat …” Ginny said. She sat heavily on the end of the couch, narrowly missing his feet and stretched her legs out onto the coffee table. Harry grunted and sat up; the blanket draped around his shoulders, stretching his legs out next to hers. “I didn’t break in,” Harry grumbled after a moment. “You’re a bit grumpy today,” Ginny observed, crunching into an apple loudly. “I am not,” Harry retorted. “I am perfectly fine.” “And I’m an owl treat,” Ginny replied. “What’s eating you, Potter?” Harry said nothing. “Have you been listening to Ron extol the virtues of marriage again?” Ginny asked. “Because I can see that’d make you want to curl up in a ball on the end of my couch and hide under a blanket.” “I’m not hiding.” “No … and I’m not a Weasley,” Ginny replied. She laid a hand on his leg. “Harry?” Harry looked at her for a moment. She was still wearing her training uniform, her hair gathered in a long plait hanging down her back. There was a smudge of dirt on her neck and a purple bruise rapidly blooming on her left cheek. “What happened?” he asked, reaching out to touch the bruise lightly. “Got hit by a Quaffle,” Ginny shrugged. “Wasn’t looking.” “Ah, distracted were you, Weasley?” Harry grinned. “Who’s the lucky bloke who occupies your thoughts this week?” Ginny blushed and looked away, taking a bite out of apple. “You make it sound like it’s a different bloke every week,” she mumbled around her mouthful. “It’s not?” Harry asked with a smirk. Ginny didn’t answer him. They sat there for a while in silence, except for the crunching of Ginny’s apple and the restless tapping of Harry’s foot against the coffee table. Eventually Ginny made a noise of frustration. Harry looked over at her. “Stop tapping your foot like that and get to the point,” she said. Harry sighed and wondered if he could pull the blanket over his head and hide from the world. She knew he’d been hiding, surely she knew why he wanted to. Harry laid his head on the back of the couch and stared at the ceiling. It sounded so pathetic, so childish even to his own ears. “You can tell me,” Ginny said. “I promise I won’t think it’s stupid — even if you are hiding from Emily Fellows again.” “You’d hide from her, too, if she was stalking you!” “She was not stalking you!” Ginny laughed. “You’re the one who asked her out!” “Yes, and she was the one who framed the serviette I used on our first date,” Harry grumbled. “Well …” “She sent me a Flaming Howler!” “You swear a lot when you are grumpy.” “No,” Harry said, “she sent me a Flaming Howler. It set the rubbish bin on fire and the curtains alight and nearly burned down the entire Ministry!” “Well …” “She’s scary,” Harry insisted. “Not as scary as me,” Ginny commented with a grin. “True,” Harry sighed. Ginny reached out a hand to turn his face towards her. “Tell me,” she whispered. Harry searched her eyes for a moment, trying to find a reason not to tell her how pathetic he was. He could find no such reason. “I don’t want to go on Thursday,” Harry said in a small voice. “Oh, Harry,” Ginny whispered, her fingers caressed his face gently. “I wish you didn’t have to go.” Harry closed his eyes and let her touch soothe him. He felt like he could stay there forever. “I really miss them,” Harry said. “I miss them all.” “And you’d rather spend Thursday in private,” Ginny said, “because this is not a celebration for you.” Harry nodded. “I just feel like … I’m the only one who gets it,” Harry whispered. He opened his eyes to find Ginny looking at him, concern etched on her features. “I wish I could say something to make it better,” Ginny said. “But I know I can’t.” She slipped an arm around his shoulders and Harry leaned into her. It wasn’t often he let himself touch her these days. It tended to make his pulse race and his hands shake. He didn’t even try to tell himself that he didn’t want her anymore, because he did. He wanted to run his hands through her hair and down her back. He wanted to feel her pulse beat under his lips when he kissed her neck. He wanted to know what her breasts felt like under his hands. He was a disgusting pervert who should bloody well know better. Harry was dimly aware of Ginny humming tunelessly as she rubbed his back. Harry buried his face in her neck and wound his arms around her waist, pulling her close. She smelled so good and before he could stop himself Harry pressed a kiss to her neck. Ginny stopped humming abruptly and Harry mentally slapped himself. ‘What the hell is wrong with you?’ his inner voice asked. And then Ginny arched her neck and Harry could feel her pulse under his lips. He couldn’t help it. He pressed his lips to her neck again before shifting to kiss the patch of skin under her ear. He could feel her breath on his neck and he found himself wanting to nuzzle her, burying his nose in her hair so he could be surrounded by her scent. Ginny’s fingers clutched at his shoulders and his fumbled with the elastic on the end of her plait. Harry pulled her hair free and ran his fingers through it, spreading it out across her shoulders. Suddenly Ginny’s soft cheek was caressing his own and his lips moved blindly in search of hers. Harry kissed her, opening his mouth, asking her to do the same. She responded hesitantly at first before opening her mouth and caressing his tongue with hers. This kiss was better than the first. Her mouth was hot and inviting and Harry pressed his body against hers on the rickety old couch. He could taste the apple that she’d just finished and a hint of the chocolate she always had after training. Her scent enveloped him and he continued to trail his hands through her hair and down her back. He could feel her hands in his hair and he moaned as he broke off the kiss to trail kisses down her neck. “Been so long,” he murmured when he reached her collar bone. “I thought you and Emily …” Ginny trailed off, her fingernails lightly scratching at his scalp. Harry froze. “What?” he croaked. “You guys snogged before she turned into a stalker, didn’t you?” Ginny said casually. “I’m sure it hasn’t been all that long.” She thought he meant since he’d kissed anyone. She didn’t know he meant it had been so long since he’d kissed her. Because she didn’t even remember she’d kissed him. He needed to tell her about his thoughts, Harry decided, to tell her that she was putting herself at risk just being in his presence, because if she was going to kiss him like that he’d be trying to do it all the time and soon he’d be trying to grope her and before they knew it he’d be asking her to … Harry’s inner demon blushed heavily. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Don’t worry,” Ginny said confidently. “A girl can always use a nice kiss. Makes things look better doesn’t it?” Harry dared to look at her then. She was smiling at him brightly. It was a comfort kiss. Something she did because she knew she couldn’t say anything to take his hurt away and she’d let him … use her, to banish his pain. Harry felt like the world’s biggest cad. “I’m really sorry,” Harry said. “I didn’t mean-” “I know, I know,” Ginny waved his words away airily. “It’s fine Harry, really. You don’t have to apologise. That’s what friends are for, you know?” Friends. She obviously did not have the same reaction to kissing him as he did to her. Her body clearly wasn’t betraying her the way his was — the traitor. Harry stared at her, running his hands through his hair distractedly. “Want to go out for pizza?” Ginny asked him, standing up and smoothing her robes. “I’ll have to get changed first. I’ll … just go do that.” She turned and headed into her bedroom. She was practically running from him, Harry thought dejectedly. He needed to pull himself together before she came back out, because he couldn’t afford to lose her now. She was the only one who knew. No one else knew him like she did. But they were only friends. Just friends. |
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