This story is brought to you by the letter K and the number One.
(K is for Kezzabear and One is for the beta, goingbacktosquareone)
The original prompt/challenge that spawned this delightful tale of mischief involved Harry and Ginny looking around at all the paired up people in their lives and their pathetically single status and making a pact to do ... something with each other. There has been speculation at this point that I had maybe decided to leave that part out ... not so, dear reader. Read on to find out what sort of pact our intrepid (and very stupid and clueless) heroes make ...
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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: 80452; Chapter Total: 8937 Author's Notes: |
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Ginny Weasley sighed heavily as she straightened little Victoire’s dress. Her niece was completely hyperactive and had probably been given something inappropriate by George. Ginny harboured ill feeling towards him and promised herself fervently that she would feed his future children large quantities of sugar at the earliest opportunity. The ceremony had gone off without a hitch but Ginny’s duties were far from over. Hermione had planned the most elaborate wedding reception Ginny had ever had the misfortune to be involved in. If she could walk into the marquee without tripping over her heels Ginny would be happy, never mind the complicated ritual of who was supposed to dance with whom and when. “Ready?” Harry asked, poking his head around the door of the sitting room where Ginny and Victoire were ‘resting’ prior to their formal introduction at the reception. “I just have to go and make sure Hermione’s all right,” Ginny said. “Straighten her veil or whatever. Can you watch Victoire for me?” “Erm … I wouldn’t go see Hermione right now,” Harry said, colouring brilliantly. Ginny appraised his appearance carefully. “They couldn’t wait until the honeymoon, could they?” “Apparently not,” Harry answered dryly. “Ugh,” Ginny said eloquently. “Unca Harwee!” Victoire called out, jumping off the couch. “I a pincesst!” She landed with an unceremonious thump on the floor, the rosebud circlet in her hair falling over one ear and her basket landing on her head. “You are always a princess,” said Harry crouching down and pulling the basket off her head. He tried straightening her headdress and managed to yank it free of her curls. “Damn.” “Unca Harwee! Langidge!” “Here, let me fix it,” Ginny said, giggling. She swiftly pinned the soft blonde curls back in place and reset the circlet on Victoire’s head. “There, good as new.” “Unca Harwee,” Victoire said, tugging on Harry’s trouser leg. “Teddy?” “He’s playing with Uncle George,” Harry answered. “You can go and see him after we go out and say hello to all the guests.” “Go now!” cried the little girl, tugging on Harry’s leg. “In a minute,” Harry said, laughing. “We have to wait for Auntie Hermione to … go to the toilet.” He tugged at his collar as a flush crept up his neck. “Sorry,” Hermione’s voice came floating into the room as she pushed the door open. “We’re ah … ready now.” Her cheeks were flushed and she avoided eye contact with Harry. Ginny smothered a giggle when she saw Ron behind his new wife, the tips of his ears bright red. “Er, no problem,” Harry muttered. “Now, you know what to do?” Hermione asked briskly, clearly trying to move beyond the embarrassment. “Victoire, you go in first. Ginny — Harry will escort you in, Ron and I will follow and Bill will announce everyone.” “I want to go with Unca Harwee,” Victoire said, attaching herself to Harry’s leg with both arms gripping his thigh and her legs wrapped around his ankle. “No, no, you go in front of Uncle Harry,” Hermione said. “No,” said Victoire obstinately. “Unca Harwee is boo’ful. Like Daddy.” She clutched more firmly at Harry’s upper thigh with both hands. Harry winced as Victoire buried her face in his leg and Ginny wondered if her niece had pinched him. “That’s okay,” Ginny said, hastily trying to think of a way to rescue Harry. Victoire was just at the right height to head butt in all the wrong places. George had complained more than once and Ron refused to play with Teddy for a week after one such incident involving two Quaffles, Teddy’s head and a Beater’s bat. “I’ll tell you what, you hold Uncle Harry’s hand here …” Ginny groped about for a moment before disengaging Victoire’s chubby fist from Harry’s inseam and grabbing Harry’s wrist, joining Victoire’s tiny hand with Harry’s much bigger one. Harry let out a squawk and Ginny smiled at him in apology. Victoire did have little pinchers for fingers. Ginny was sure she was part crab. “And I’ll hold this hand …” Ginny continued, reaching behind Harry and plucking Victoire’s other hand free of the folds of black fabric. “And we can all go in together.” “But-” “Go with it, Hermione,” Ron said. “It’s as close as you’re going to get.” Ginny didn’t hear Hermione’s answer; she was too busy puzzling over the look of pain on Harry’s face. He looked like someone had struck him with a Bludger. “Harry,” Ginny asked anxiously. “Are you all right? You look a little pale.” “I’m fine,” Harry squeaked. “Oh …” Ginny trailed off and leaned closer. “Did she get a little too close to … the boys?” “No,” Harry said in a strangled voice. “I’m fine … just … ah, long day …” “Okay …” Ginny trailed off, peering at Harry. “Are you sure you don’t want to sit down? You look a little peaked.” “Oh really Ginny,” Hermione huffed. “He’s fine. Let’s go.” “Yeah, let’s do this,” Ron added. “I’m hungry.” ********************** Ha rry Potter wished he was sitting next to Ginny Weasley. Hermione’s father was currently giving a wonderful speech, full of anecdotes about his daughter, glowing praise for Ron and a lot of gushing about joining two families. Ron’s leg was jiggling nervously and a piece of parchment was crumpled in his hand but he also had Hermione’s hand to cling to — and she’d probably written his speech for him. Harry was sitting all alone, at the other end of the table with only Victoire for company and she was currently sitting on his feet, under the table, shredding Ginny’s bouquet. Mr Granger sat down to polite applause and Ron rose to his feet, looking a rather unflattering shade of green. Harry saw Hermione caress his leg gently and Ron seemed to pull himself together enough to start reading the speech on his piece of crumpled parchment. Harry would have done anything to have Ginny sitting next to him, reassuring him that his speech wasn’t going to totally suck. She was sitting light years away, on the other side of Ron and Hermione, looking absolutely stunning and making him forget everything he’d prepared to say. He’d have to avoid looking at Ginny while he was giving his speech, Harry thought. Ever since she’d pulled Victoire off his leg — his upper leg — looking at Ginny had made his voice stick in his throat and his palms go sweaty. A croaky voice and a smudged speech were not the best look. Molly was already looking at him funny and George was smirking. They probably thought he was ill. Harry was so glad they could not see the depraved thoughts inside his head. “Harry,” Hermione hissed from his right. “Speech!” Harry jumped as she jabbed him in the leg with her fork and he glared at her briefly before pushing back his chair. Victoire was still sitting on his feet and he stumbled a bit as he rose. Harry pretended to ignore Ginny sniggering at him and turned to face the assembled guests. “I’ve never been a Best Man before,” Harry began, focusing on what was probably the most important speech of his life. All the boring Ministry speeches paled in comparison to this moment. Harry smiled at Ron who was nodding encouragingly — at ease now that his speech was over. Harry continued. “So I looked up what I had to do here. It wasn’t hard … Hermione’s got a lot of books.” The crowd laughed. “So, according to tradition,” Harry went on, “I need to start by introducing myself … I’m Harry Potter.” Hermione’s Uncle Bert and Cousin Phil looked puzzled as the guests began sniggering into their wine glasses and Harry grinned as Hermione rolled her eyes at him. “I don’t want to take too long, because I know Ron’s dying to get to the dancing.” Harry could hear Padma Patil snort from a table near the back. “I just wanted to thank Ron for being there for me and … Hermione for making me study because … I wouldn’t be here without you guys. It’s been an honour to be a part of your beautiful wedding.” Harry looked down at Victoire who was sitting in his chair, a smudge of gravy on her dress and her circlet of roses askew once more, banging his knife and fork on the table. The guests laughed and Victoire, sensing she was the centre of attention, looked up and beamed. Harry took the chance to sneak a look at Ginny. She was smiling at him, her chin resting on one slender wrist as she propped her elbow on the table. Harry swallowed heavily and picked up his glass. He took a moment to focus on Hermione, dabbing at her eyes with a delicate lace handkerchief, before continuing. “So I just wanted to tell Ron and Hermione how much I love them,” Harry said, his voice wavering slightly. “I know I’m supposed to talk about the groom and tell you all funny stories … but I think you should ask George about that.” An appreciative titter went up from the guests and George stood up and bowed with a flourish. “So, join me in a toast to the newest Mr and Mrs Weasley, Ron and Hermione!” Harry said, trying desperately not to look at Ginny again. The guests echoed his toast and Harry gratefully took a large gulp of whatever was in his glass. Harry relaxed once the spotlight was off him and he watched with detached amusement as Ron and Hermione cut the cake and started dancing. The first few dances were a whirl of parents and Victoire twirling in the middle of the dance floor. Suddenly Ginny poked him in the ribs. “What was that for?” Harry asked with a frown. “We’re supposed to dance now,” Ginny said. “We what?” Harry asked blankly. “Dance,” Ginny repeated. “Oh.” “Gee, Harry,” Ginny said, grabbing his arm and hauling him to his feet. “Don’t overwhelm me with your enthusiasm.” Harry forced himself to follow Ginny onto the dance floor and place his hand on her waist. He almost stopped breathing when she draped one arm around him and entwined the fingers of her other hand with his. Harry stared at the top of Ginny’s head, counting the steps of the waltz in his head. “Harry?” Ginny was looking up at him and Harry nearly tripped over Victoire who was dizzily spinning across the dance floor. “Hmmmm?” Harry did not trust himself to speak. His voice kept cracking alarmingly lately. “Do you ever think you’ll be … left behind?” “Erm …” “Did you know that all the girls in my year are married now?” Ginny continued. “Well, except Felicity Parker, but she has that hump … and Malfoy got married the other day; I saw it in the society pages.” “I didn’t know you read the society pages,” Harry said, greatly amused. “I have to do something on those long, lonely nights while I knit scarves and arrange my tea cosy collection.” “I’ll buy you a cat,” Harry said with a grin. “One down, fifty-six to go.” “Everyone has someone, Harry,” Ginny said quietly. “I don’t,” Harry answered. “Even Neville has someone.” Ginny sighed. “It’s only a matter of time. Everyone will have someone and we’ll be left … all alone on the shelf …” “Have you been listening to your mother again?” “Harry,” Ginny whined. “I’m serious.” “Ginny, you’re not going to be left on some mythical shelf,” Harry said. “If anyone’s going to be left on the shelf, it’s me. Bronwyn Owled me yesterday; apparently I’m not ‘organic’ enough. What does that mean anyway?” “Well, she’s an idiot,” Ginny said rolling her eyes, “but I did tell you that.” “I know, I know,” Harry said. “She looked normal, all right?” “She wore tie-dyed robes.” “Maybe I’m just that desperate,” Harry retorted. “We’re both positively sad,” Ginny said pensively, “sad and desperate.” “Hopeless cases, the pair of us,” Harry agreed. “Well promise me something,” Ginny said. “Anything,” Harry said, meaning it with absolutely ever fibre of his being. “If neither of us has found anyone by the time Neville gets married, let’s do it.” “Do what?” Harry asked, alarmed. “Get together,” Ginny answered. “We get together all the time.” “No,” Ginny said, shaking her head. “I don’t mean for pizza. I mean together. The kind of together where you … hold hands and dance and …” She paused, flushing dramatically. “Together?” Harry asked. “Like … erm … like swans are together?” Ginny nodded. “Yeah … like the swans,” she echoed, a pink flush rising on her cheeks. “And you want to wait until Neville is married to do this?” “Well, once Neville’s married it’s a pretty sure thing there’s no hope left for us,” Ginny said reasonably. “But we need to give ourselves a decent shot at it.” Harry stared at Ginny, dumbfounded, before nodding. She smiled mischievously and the music changed to the next song. Ginny started to pull away from his grasp but Harry gripped her hand and tightened his hold on her waist. “Dance with me,” he said, desperate to keep her there, to have her soft warm curves under his fingers and her body pressed close to his. Ginny settled back into his arms and tucked her head into his chest. Harry wondered if she noticed that he pulled her closer than she was before. She just seemed to melt into him as she disengaged her hand from his and rested it lightly on his chest. She could probably feel his heart hammering under it. Harry was sure it was bouncing randomly all over his ribcage; it seemed so loud in his ears. “Your heart’s beating,” Ginny whispered. “It always does,” Harry answered with a nervous chuckle. “It’s all thumpy,” Ginny said, looking up at him. Her breath caressed his neck and — damn, he could see straight down the top of her dress. “I just gave a speech,” Harry said wildly, trying to explain his erratic heartbeat. Ginny nodded and tucked her head back under his chin. They slowly swayed to the soft music in the dimly lit marquee. Harry’s head was spinning. This … this agreement could change everything. He was probably mad to agree to this hare-brained scheme. It could ruin everything. But he really wanted to kiss Ginny again, even if they were (for now) … Just friends. |
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