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Your Eyes Are As Brown As A Portable Swamp
By cwarbeck

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Category: Post-OotP
Characters:Harry/Ginny
Genres: General
Warnings: None
Story is Complete
Rating: PG
Reviews: 29
Summary: Harry and Ginny talk about portable swamps - among other things. A missing moment from Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince.
Hitcount: Story Total: 8573
Awards: View Trophy Room


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:
Written for the April challenge at catchmysnitch. The prompt was, you guessed it: 'portable swamp'.

Thanks to Chreechree.




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Your Eyes Are As Brown As A Portable Swamp…




Harry and Ron were deep in the mysteries and intricacies of Exploding Snap when an irate Ginny Weasley stomped up to them and smacked her brother on the head.

“Hey!” exclaimed Ron, dropping his cards and singeing his fingers in the process. “What the—?”

“Did you, or did you not, just compare Hermione to a portable swamp?” she demanded, glowering at him.

Harry snorted involuntarily, drawing Ginny’s attention.

“Got something to say, Harry?” she asked, arching an eyebrow.

He shook his head, smiling. She rolled her eyes at him but returned his smile, making his insides squirm pleasurably.

Lately, Ginny had been having quite the effect on him. If he were Luna Lovegood, he would have suspected an infestation of Nargles, but, since he was just Harry Potter, he would have to settle for acknowledging that he had fallen arse over teakettle for his best friend’s little sister.

Too bad she’s seeing Dean Thomas, a snide little voice told him. That same snide little voice kept reminding him that he had missed his chance with Ginny, and wasn’t it ironic that he was now the one pining after someone who used to pine after him?

Harry ignored Snide Little Voice (partly because he was so used to it and partly because it was starting to sound a bit like Snape, which was just wrong) and instead focused on how cute Ginny looked as she laid into Ron.

“Well, did you, Ron?” she asked again. “Or is there another reason why Hermione’s upstairs, attempting to set the world record for knitting the most tea cosies in one night? You know she only knits tea cosies when she’s highly agitated; otherwise, it’s strictly hats or scarves.”

Ron shrugged. “I might have.”

“What exactly did you say?” said a curious Harry. He couldn’t imagine how a portable swamp and Hermione could figure in the same conversation, much less her being compared to one.

“Yes, this should be interesting,” said Ginny, taking a seat beside Harry, who silently thanked his supreme foresight in choosing the loveseat instead of the narrow armchair Ron was ensconced in. Although if he had been in the armchair, perhaps Ginny would have squeezed in beside him anyway...

Ha! Snide Little Voice scoffed. In your dreams, Potter.

“I don’t know what she’s so worked up about, anyway,” complained Ron. “We were discussing the twins’ Wheezes, and somehow we got to talking about the portable swamp they put in front of Umbridge’s office last year. Remember that?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, that was brilliant.”

“That’s what I said, but then Hermione said that in the interest of hygiene and whatnot, Professor Flitwick should remove it already, as it’s served its purpose.”

“Typical Hermione — completely missed the point,” muttered Ginny, causing Harry to snort out loud again. “It’s the principle of the thing.”

“I know, right?” Ron grunted. “So I said that she should appreciate the swamp, since she was sort of like the swamp herself,” now both Ginny and Harry snorted, “then before I knew it, she was clomping away, wibbling like a madwoman.” He gave his sister an aggrieved look. “What’s her problem?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” spoke Ginny, as if to an idiot. “Maybe it’s because you likened her to a putrid, stinking piece of marshland that repels everyone who encounters it?”

“I didn’t say that!” denied Ron hotly. “I only meant that the swamp was a brilliant work of magic on the twins’ part, just like Hermione herself is a brilliant work of magic!”

Harry exchanged an amused glance with Ginny. Only Ron could possibly come up with an amazing compliment cleverly disguised as an insult.

Ginny shook her head. “Why didn’t you just tell her that in the first place?”

“I thought I did,” grumbled Ron.

“Maybe you were too subtle for her,” suggested Harry, earning him an elbow in the ribs from a smirking Ginny.

“Yeah,” agreed Ron. “For the brightest witch of her generation, Hermione can be rather dense sometimes.”

“What about Lavender, Ron? Which Wheeze would you compare her to, then?” Ginny asked slyly. “A Patented Daydream Charm?”

Ron frowned. “More like Ton-Tongue Toffee, I think,” he said under his breath, making Harry and Ginny laugh heartily, “or maybe a Reusable Hangman.” He stood up and stretched his arms above his head. “Anyway, Hermione’ll be right as rain tomorrow.”

“Aren’t you even going to apologise?” said Ginny, incredulous. “Or at least explain yourself?”

Ron shrugged again. “I reckon I’ll just wait until she gets over it and forgives me. She always does, eventually. She knows she can’t resist my boyish charm.”

“You know, as much as it pains me to admit it,” said Ginny, laughing again, “you’re absolutely right, Ron.”

He grinned impertinently at them and stuffed the Exploding Snap cards into his pocket. “Well, I’m knackered. S’later, you two.” Ron ruffled Ginny’s hair, gave Harry a pointed look, and made his way up to the boys’ dormitories.

Harry stared after his best friend, wondering what that look was all about, when Ginny’s soft chuckles abruptly made him aware of the fact that they were now quite alone in the common room. He tried to act nonchalant, even though Ginny’s nearness was making his insides do the conga once again.

“At least he didn’t compare any of Hermione’s body parts to the swamp,” said Ginny dryly.

Harry couldn’t resist. “You mean like: ‘Your eyes are as brown as a portable swamp’—”

“Shut it, you.” Ginny playfully slapped his arm, sending pleasurable tingles through him. “Don’t remind me of my dreadful past efforts at poetry.”

“But your use of fresh pickled toads was truly inspired!” he teased her. “I could never come up with anything half as good.”

“Oh, I think you could if you tried, Harry. It would be better than Ron’s pitiful attempts, anyway.” Her expression became impish. “Let’s see now, if you fancied the pants off a girl but were too cowardly to actually say it to her face…”

Snide Little Voice sniggered.

“…which WWW product would you compare her to?” she said mischievously.

For a moment, Harry thought that she had found out just how much he fancied her, then he realised Ginny was referring to her brother and his rather bizarre attempts to woo Hermione.

“Erm,” answered Harry, eloquently.

“Humour me, Harry,” wheedled Ginny, grinning at him.

“Right,” he said, becoming distracted with the way the firelight was bringing out the reds and golds of her beautiful hair.

“Harry?”

Startled, he came out of his musings to find her looking at him expectantly.

“Oh, um,” he thought quickly, stealing a glance once more at her vivid tresses, “then I guess I would have to say a Wildfire Whiz-bang.”

“Huh.” She looked at him appraisingly. “I would’ve thought that Cho would be more like Filibuster’s Wet-Start No-Heat Fireworks, actually.”

“That’s not a WWW product.” Harry chuckled. “Besides, I wasn’t thinking about Cho. Haven’t in a long while, really.”

“A mystery girl, then?” Ginny sounded intrigued.

“Yeah, and my mystery girl is fiery and brilliant and totally amazing, much like the Whiz-bangs,” he said, emboldened by the fact that they were sitting so close together that he could smell the flowery scent of her hair. “She even flies through the air like a Whiz-bang.”

Another Quidditch player?” she said, amused.

Harry shrugged noncommittally. “Maybe.”

“Well, it’s either that or you fancy a harpy,” said Ginny with a snort. “Or a hippogriff.”

“No,” he laughed, “she’s definitely human.”

“Hmmm… does your amazing flying firecracker know how you feel about her?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

Harry sighed. “It’s complicated.”

“Complicated?” she echoed. “How?”

“I don’t know how she’ll react if she finds out I like her,” he said, looking her straight in the eye. He chose his next words carefully. “Especially since she’s seeing someone else right now.”

Her eyes widened. “Tell her, Harry. She should be able to choose for herself. She’d want to know,” she asserted, her gaze not wavering from his.

Harry leaned forward. “Yeah?”

I’d want to know,” she responded, shifting even closer to him.

“Would you?” His heart was beating wildly, and her lovely face was so near…

“Who is this mystery girl of yours, Harry?” she asked in a husky voice that sent shivers through him.

Harry made up his mind; he was going to tell her how he felt about her, damn the consequences. He opened his mouth to say—

“Ginny!” a voice called out. Harry jerked his head back guiltily when he realised who the newcomer was.

“Hi, Harry,” Dean greeted him affably before turning to address his girlfriend. “Want to take a walk around the castle before curfew, Ginny?”

Harry thought he saw the tiniest grimace cross Ginny’s face before she stood up to take Dean’s proffered hand, but he chalked it up to wishful thinking on his part.

“Good night, Harry. We’ll talk about your mystery girl another time, yeah?” Ginny smiled at him.

“Okay,” he replied, stifling the jealousy that surged through him at the sight of Ginny and Dean’s joined hands. “Maybe I’ll ask Fred and George to send me some Whiz-bangs by owl post, eh?” he said as they started to walk away.

Ginny turned around and said, “No need — I’ve got a Deflagration Deluxe in my trunk. It’s yours, if you want it.” She held his gaze; her eyes conveying something that suddenly made Harry dare hope that his feelings for her may not be so one-sided after all.

“Oh, definitely,” he declared. “I most definitely want it.”

“You might have to do something spectacular to ignite it, though,” she said, a hint of challenge in her voice. “It’s been hidden away for so long, you see.”

“I’m certain I can come up with something… stimulating,” he replied, meeting her blazing look with one of his own.

A slow, delighted smile spread across her face. “I look forward to it, then.” She shook her hand free of Dean’s and waved at Harry. “See you tomorrow?”

Harry pretended not to see the frown that Dean was now directing at him and waved back at her, smiling hugely. “Yeah, see you tomorrow.”

*end











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