All The Tropes by lilyevans_Jan30



Summary: Harry and Ginny have been friends for so long, will anyone believe they are actually in love? They may have agreed to fake date for Ginny's protection, but what they don't realize is that it may keep Harry safe too.
Rating: R starstarstarstarhalf-star
Categories: Post-Hogwarts
Characters: None
Genres: None
Warnings: None
Challenges: None
Series: None
Published: 2023.10.21
Updated: 2024.01.01


Index

Chapter 1: The First Prologue
Chapter 2: Can We Fake It?
Chapter 3: The Unfakeable Vow?
Chapter 4: What Did Harry Do?
Chapter 5: Chapter 5
Chapter 6: It Said What?


Chapter 1: The First Prologue

Author's Notes: So, It's been a hot minute since I've posted here, but FFN is acting up more than usual and honestly, I missed SIYE. :). And I think this new fic might work here. It's a rom-com and while there will be some steamy bits, I'll edit/warn as needed FYI - I always keep Fred alive in my lighter pieces.




A/N: I’m not even sure what to say about this new story other than it’s a new rom-com, the darkness of the prologue notwithstanding. My working title has been “All the Tropes” and so far I’m keeping that as the real title too since I’ve not been able to come up with anything better. Enjoy and please review.


Molly Weasley was frantic. The Delacours would be arriving in two days, Fleur and Bill were getting married in five, there was a war going on, and she couldn’t find the lace-trimmed ecru napkins she was certain she had packed in a trunk in the attic, protected by any number of non-wrinkle spells. That wasn’t the only wedding necessity that had gone missing, or needed to be organized, or was due for a good cleaning before the nuptials could take place, and Ron, Hermione, Harry and Ginny were taking the brunt of Mrs. Weasley’s ever-growing list of chores. Harry had never known Ron and Ginny’s mum to be disorganized, and he was confused by some of her requests, which seemed either repetitive or unnecessary or both.

Finally, Ginny clued him into the fact that Molly was likely doing all she could to keep the four of them from spending time together, as if that would prevent Ron, Harry, and Hermione from leaving and planing with Ginny how she could help from her position at Hogwarts. After that Harry just shut his mouth and did whatever was asked of him. His guilt at putting Ron and Ginny in danger - especially after the events of the past year - was nearly unchecked already, but all of his protests that he could manage alone fell on deaf ears.

He was on his third trip to the orchard to collect yet more branches that were to be festooned with garlands of flowers and twined into some sort of table decoration when a small, half-eaten apple dropped out of the sky and landed on the ground in front of him. He looked up.

“If no one followed you, get up here.” Ginny’s voice boded no argument. Harry agreeably swung himself into the treehouse, grinning at the sight of her sitting against a cushy pillow with a platter of fancily decorated sweets and an expression that wasn’t the least bit guilty. She held up a small biscuit frosted in chocolate. “Want one? I think it’s got caramel inside.”

“Aren’t these for the Delacours?” Harry dropped the basket that was supposed to be holding branches and sat down. “Budge over.” He knocked against Ginny’s side until she made room for him to lean against the pillow. Ginny shrugged.

“Probably. My mum made about three times as many as we need though.” She batted Harry’s hand away so she could snag a Jaffa cake. “Besides,” she continued, taking a huge bite. “With the way she’s been working us, I say we deserve a treat.”

“I deserved that one,” said Harry grumpily. His petulance was short-lived. “Are those miniature treacle tarts?” He popped one in his mouth and groaned with appreciation.

“I made sure to take extra of those,” Ginny said. She sounded amused. “You’re almost as bad as Ron.” Harry ignored that and grabbed another tart.

“These are so good, I could almost kiss you right now.”

“Please don’t.” Ginny made a show of scooting away from him. “If you want to kiss someone, I’m sure we can find you a witch at the wedding. Gabrielle must be what, almost thirteen now?”

“I’m not kissing a twelve-year old!” Harry picked up Ginny’s bottle of pumpkin juice and took a long swallow, turning his body away from her when she tried to grab it out of his hand. “Besides,” he continued, wiping his hand across the back of his mouth. “What about you? I don’t think Dean was invited.” He raised his eyebrows and Ginny groaned.

“That’s completely over and you know it,” she said. “There’s not likely to be much kissing for me as I’m going to be related to most of the guests.”

Harry handed her back the pumpkin juice. “Or me either. I’m going to be in disguise, you know.”

The atmosphere in the treehouse shifted.

“It’s really getting dangerous, isn’t it?” Ginny’s voice was steady. Harry nodded.

“I heard you dad and Remus and Bill talking about the wards they’re putting on the entire property; there are layers and layers of spells I’ve never even heard of. Ones set by the Ministry, even.” He was quiet for a moment. “I guess we have to trust the Ministry.”

Ginny touched his hand. “But . . .?”

Harry huffed in agreement. “Exactly. “But I really don’t. Not completely. Scrimgeour . . . he’s better than Fudge, at least. More backbone, even if. . . ” He turned his body to face her. “I’m sorry I can’t tell you where we’re going, not even a little bit. Scrimgeour would try to get it out of you, and Voldemort’s followers would be worse. I couldn’t live with that.”

“I know.” Ginny wrapped her arms around her knees. “It would be the necklace all over again.” She quickly held up her hand. “Which was not your fault.”

“You’d been with us half the day; I should have recognized you’d been Confunded instead of believing Ron prattling on that you were just lovesick from snogging Dean.”

Ginny snorted. “Dean’s snogging wasn’t that good, Harry.”

He shook his head; it was a discussion they’d had before. “Exactly. I should have figured it out before you got the package out of the Three Broomsticks.” He took a deep breath; it was over and Ginny was okay. Still, of all the times he’d nearly gotten one or another of the Weasley children killed, that moment last winter - and the weeks that had followed while Ginny slowly recovered in St. Mungo’s - had been the worst.

To be honest, he was almost relieved that Ginny had been unconscious for most of it, so she hadn’t witnessed Molly lecturing, and then scolding, and finally yelling at him when, nearly four weeks after the event, he’d tried to apologize again.

“I took your measure when you were eleven years old, Harry.” Now Molly’s voice was quiet and that was somehow worse. He squirmed under her gaze.

“But . . .”

“But nothing. You questioned me less than Ron did when I asked you both to keep an eye on Ginny her second year, even though you had every reason to say no. As far as I’m concerned, your friendship with her - and with Ron for that matter - has only been a benefit.”

She turned away then and fussed with the blanket around Ginny’s legs and Harry had finally given up trying to assuage his guilt by taking the blame for Ginny being cursed.

It hadn’t gone away though, the guilt, and more than once this past week Harry wondered if Mrs. Weasley felt quite as strongly about Harry being a benefit now that he was about to put two of her children into almost unimaginable danger.

“Promise me you’ll be careful, okay? While you’re at Hogwarts?” It was another discussion the four of them had had during a few stolen moments when they weren’t doing whatever wedding chores Mrs. Weasley could dream up. Harry couldn’t tell Ginny what he and Ron and Hermione would be off doing, but Ginny had offered right away to help however she could from school. The other three had even debated whether to ask her to look for a Horcrux there but had eventually given up on the idea as too dangerous. While her blood status might protect her more than a Muggleborn, Ginny wasn’t likely to be much safer than the trio.

“Only if you all promise the same thing,” said Ginny pointedly. She leaned congenially against his arm. “I can’t believe I’m going back to a school where Snape is the Headmaster.”

“Stay well away from him if you can,” said Harry, more sharply than he intended. Of course Ginny wasn’t going to put herself in the man’s path, not after he’d shown how easily he was willing to commit murder. But she shrugged.

“If he tries anything with anyone he’s going to wish he’d stayed away from me.” Only the slight waver in her voice gave her away.

Harry ignored it. “That’s right. You and Neville and Luna and all the rest of the DA will have things well in hand,” he said, with more confidence than he felt.

Ginny snorted. “We’re both good at faking it, aren’t we?”

Harry hummed in agreement. “I think the next months will depend on it.”
*******
The wedding was mostly a blur. At one point, Harry danced with Gabrielle Delacour, much to Ginny’s amusement. To get back at her for her teasing he grabbed her during a particularly fast song and swung her around until they were both dizzy.

“Enough, Harry,” Ginny said with a laugh as she collapsed into a chair at the side of the dance floor. “Mum’ll kill me if I vomit on this dress.” Harry handed her a glass of water before sitting down beside her and she drank gratefully.

“Your mum’s already cross enough with me; I certainly don’t want to give her any more reason,” he said, taking the glass when she was finished and draining the rest of the water. Even from where he sat he could see Molly’s eyes darting around, silently counting heads to make sure Ron and Harry and Hermione hadn’t snuck off. Ginny’s eyes followed his.

“You don’t have a choice, Harry, and she knows that. None of us do.” Harry shook his head.

“You have a choice to keep your head down and not get into trouble,” he said. Without even looking he knew the expression on her face would have gone mulish. “I know, I know,” he said quickly, raising his hands in surrender. “We’ve talked about this dozens of tims and I’m not being fair, but hear me out.” In the past days, as his departure had become imminent, Harry’s concern over abandoning Ginny at Hogwarts had grown roots. Knowing where she was had become second nature to him over the years since the Chamber and it was more disconcerting than he wanted to admit to give that up. To hide his discomfort he tried to joke.

“I mean, who’s going to tell me what to do if I run into some Veela who want a date?”

It worked; Ginny snorted. “Harry, there are plenty of Veela here and I haven seen any of them give you a second glance.” She gave him an appraising look. “Even though that disguise is better looking than your regular face.”

The Muggle Harry was impersonating was chubby and had a face like a gnome. Harry punched Ginny on the arm. “You don’t think I could land a Veela?”

She shook her head immediately. “Who do you think you are, Bill?”

They sat comfortably together after that, watching Fred and George try to flirt with Fleur’s cousins and Luna and her father dance around like sunflowers. Harry was about to risk Ginny’s wrath by asking her - once more - to please humor him and be just a little careful when Kingsley’s Patronus dropped into the middle of the reception. He didn’t even have the chance to say goodbye; he was on his feet in an instant, locking eyes with Ron and Hermione, and then they were gone.

Back to index


Chapter 2: Can We Fake It?

Author's Notes: And here's the first proper chapter. Enjoy!




“No. Absolutely not. Are you fucking kidding me?” Ginny crossed her arms and glared across the table at Harry. “I assume this wasn’t your ridiculous idea. It’s completely idiotic.”

Harry’s lips quirked. “It wasn’t my idea, no.” He glanced down the table and belatedly Ginny realized she’d sort of just called either the head of the Auror department or the Minister of Magic idiots. “But I think it has . . . some merit.”

Despite being able to read Harry like a book, Ginny wasn’t going to throw him under the bus in front of his boss. Yet. “And what if . . . I refuse?” she asked him. She’d nearly said we, and Harry looked at her in warning. His mouth shut tight and it was Gawain Robards who leaned forward next.

“Now Miss Weasley, be reasonable. I was under the impression that you and Harry are friends.”

Ginny was pretty sure Harry groaned under his breath, and she knew why; there’d been a time when she would have hexed someone for telling her to be reasonable. But she wasn’t fourteen anymore and despite her bravado, she knew why they were all here. Pushing aside the conversation she’d have to have with him later, she turned back to Harry. “There’s got to be a better solution, right? One that doesn’t depend on our admittedly terrible acting skills?”

“I may have mentioned that,” he admitted. But we haven’t been able to come up with a better way to keep an Auror with you during those times when you’re alone.” He raised his eyebrows. “Although we did discuss having Ron do it.”

“Absolutely not,” said Ginny promptly. “You’re bad enough.”

“Ouch,” said Harry in mock offense. “Is that how you talk to your new boyfriend?”

Ginny couldn’t help rolling her eyes. “Exactly. No one’s going to buy it.”

“Our other option was for Harry to act as your bodyguard outright,” said Robards mildly. “But he seemed to think . . .”

“That I absolutely don’t need people thinking I’m being childminded,” Ginny finished. “At least he got that right.” She sighed, glad that at least she didn’t have to explain herself to Harry. But the others in the room were a different story; even Kingsley didn’t know her well as an adult, as opposed to the fourteen-year-old she’d been that year they’d spent so much time at Grimmauld Place with the Order. And with a guilty start, Ginny realized her new boss wouldn’t have reason to know either.

Gwenog Jones had been quiet the entire meeting and Ginny couldn’t read her well enough yet to understand what that meant. Now she turned in her seat.

“I’m so sorry about this; it won’t affect the way I play. I can take care of myself, really. You know I fought in the War when I was just sixteen; this . . . whatever it is won’t get in the way with the team; I promise.” When Gwenog didn’t immediately respond, Ginny set her gaze on Harry.

“Tell her I can take care of myself, Harry.” Ginny hoped that only he could hear the pleading in her voice. It wasn’t like her, but playing professional Quidditch was all she’d ever wanted to do and she couldn’t bear the thought of losing it because of something beyond her control.

“You taking care of yourself isn’t anything I worry about, Ginny.” Gwenog sounded almost amused by the thought. “Given what I knew about you even before you joined the team, I expect you’ll be able to teach the rest of us a thing or two about personal protection.” Her tone grew more serious. “But we don’t normally get the Minister of Magic and the head of the Auror Department at the Harpies’ security meetings. I have a responsibility for the safety of the entire team, players and staff. If they say this is the best plan, then I think we should trust them.”

The last thing Ginny wanted to do was disagree with Gwenog, whom she already looked up to. The witch was tough but fair, thoughtful but funny, and a spectacular leader, playmaker and Quidditch strategist. But she didn’t know Ginny that well yet, or Harry for that matter, and had no idea what she was proposing they do.

Ginny sighed. “I know. But do you really think people are going to buy it? Me and Harry . . . dating?” She gave him a challenging look. “I mean, I know Witch Weekly seems to think you’re one of Wizarding Britain’s most eligible bachelors, but I . . .”

“Don’t,” Harry finished for her. He grinned. “And I feel the same way about you, Miss Newest Harpy Hottie. According to Quidditch Today at least.”

Now Gwenog groaned. “Couldn’t they just focus on how well you play?”

“I suspect that doesn’t sell as many magazines,” said Kingsley calmly. He picked up a piece of parchment with what looked like a calendar on it, and in that one movement, Ginny knew that she hadn’t been invited here to see what she thought of the idea, but to be presented with something already decided. Hell, even Gwenog didn’t look surprised. Vowing again to have a long talk with Harry later, she turned back to pay attention to Kingsley. “For now, the Harpies’ regular security detail should be more than sufficient for most of the places Ginny will be - games, practices, press conferences and the like. We’ll assign a couple of Aurors too, but not much beyond standard - we don’t want to call attention to the fact that we think there’s anything wrong. It’s the public appearances when she might otherwise be alone that are our focus at this time. This is Miss Weasley’s schedule, which Harry will keep with him because it’s charmed to act as a Portkey in case he ever needs to be by her side quickly. For any reason.” The man’s tone was mild but Ginny could have sworn he was trying not to laugh.

“You make it sound like I’ll be calling Harry for a magical booty call,” she said.

Harry snorted. “Don’t the twins have a product that does the same thing?”

“Probably,” agreed Ginny. She caught Harry’s eye and no matter how involved he’d been in helping come up with the plan, she knew at that moment they were both in agreement about how weird this all was. “Explain to me why can’t we just be seen together as friends?” she asked.

“Right now signs are pointing to it being a crazed fan, so having you “off the market” so to speak is safer,” explained Robards. “It also gives Harry a reason to be with you as much as needed. Friends don’t spend as much time together as couples in love do.”

Harry and Ginny both winced and once again, Ginny wanted to point out that there was no way anyone was going to believe this charade. What were they supposed to do, walk into the next Department of Magical Games and Sports banquet holding hands and feed each other pieces of shrimp like Bill did for Fleur? To push that shuddering thought out of her mind, she focused on a more practical question, one she knew was much more important.

“And if it’s not a fan?”

She didn’t miss how Harry glanced quickly at Robards or the way the other man gave a tiny shake of his head, and she felt a thrum of satisfaction. There was more they weren’t telling her yet, but she wasn’t stupid. She also knew she’d be able to convince Harry to share everything later on. Friend or boyfriend, they saw each other regularly enough even when both were busy with work. Indeed, they were both meant to be at the Burrow for dinner Sunday night.

And although she wasn’t ready to admit it out loud, Ginny was a little relieved that Harry was so involved in the plans to manage the nebulous “threat” that no one seemed able to understand, even though she’d received her first odd piece of mail nearly a month ago. Weird fans were to be expected but this wasn’t some lonely wizard asking for a pair of her knickers, or even a letter doused in a love potion (the Harpies got those weekly). The first parchment had arrived with a delivery of takeaway Ginny and her flatmates had ordered, which meant the sender knew her habits and where she lived. A second had arrived a week later, shooting down the Burrow’s Floo when the entire Weasley family was there for dinner. The third had been sitting on a table at the Leaky when a group of former DA members was together for a casual night out. Other than Ginny’s name on the front, each letter was blank, and had disintegrated moments after being opened.

Kingsley grimaced. “We’re exploring other options too,” he admitted.

Ginny appreciated his honesty, but didn’t bother asking what those options were; just the fact that he’d told her that much was unusual. It would be another thing to ask Harry later. Right now he was quiet though, and watching her carefully. There was a small wrinkle between his eyes like he got when he was worried about something he wasn’t sure how to handle, and while she tried to figure out what it might be, Robards began talking to Gwenog about the more mundane matter of the other Aurors who would be assigned to ordinary security detail. Harry twirled his water cup in his hands.

“So, what’s the first event going to be, if you know?” Ginny spoke to the room at large. “I mean, how long do Harry and I have to figure out how we’re going to make this fake dating thing work?”

By the way Harry’s shoulders relaxed, Ginny knew she’d said the right thing. He was an Auror, and as weird as it was going to be, pretending to date her, it was still his job, something Harry took very seriously. On the other hand, all of this just made Ginny’s position on the Harpies more difficult, and it would be just like Harry to worry about that even more than himself. The least she could do would be to make it easier for him.

“It’s next week.” Robards sounded apologetic. “The first anniversary commemoration of the end of the War. As a participant, you’ll be getting a commendation, Miss Weasley. And as for Harry . . .”

“He’s getting his Order of Merlin, First Class,” laughed Ginny. “Along with my brother and Hermione.” It had been quite the topic of conversation among the Weasleys, all of whom knew how much Harry wished he could just skip the whole thing. In recognition of that fact, Fred and George had taken it upon themselves to make an enormous fuss about it all every time everyone was together - but only when it was just family. Hermione and Ron had originally been slated for Second Class awards and Harry had flatly refused to participate unless they’d been elevated too. Now he smirked.

“Ginny’s getting Third Class,” he informed the table. “Do we think it’s okay for me to be seen dating someone so far below my station?”

Ginny appreciated how hard Harry was trying to make all this seem normal, not just for her, but as a signal to everyone else that he wasn’t bothered by it either. She matched his grin.

“Things are going to be pretty lonely then, Potter, seeing as the only witch getting a First Class award is currently dating my brother.” She pretended to think. “The professors are all getting Second Class, aren’t they? Maybe McGonagall is free.”

Everyone laughed then, and Harry looked even more relieved. Robards put his hands flat on the table.

“One last detail for now,” he said. “Other than those of us in this room, no one else is to know about Harry and Ginny’s arrangement.” He looked at the two of them seriously. “Including Ginny’s family and Hermione Granger. It will be much easier that way.”

Harry snorted at almost the same moment as Ginny, and even Kingley made a sound kind of like a choking cough. Robards raised his eyebrows. “Am I missing something?”

“I think what Harry and Ginny want to communicate is that while they agree it makes the most sense to have as few people aware of their . . . situation as possible, absolutely nothing about keeping it a secret from Ginny’s family is going to be easy.”

“Why?” Now Gwenog looked interested. “I’ve met your parents, Ginny. They’re lovely people. And your brother Bill did some work on the wards at our stadium and was completely reasonable and professional, even when Tamara Fox accidentally forgot her towel when she showered and had to walk through the locker room naked at the exact moment Bill was in there. He didn’t even glance at her, and Tammy’s hard to miss even when she’s clothed.”

Ginny privately agreed. The Harpies Keeper was fond of saying that she had a big personality and chest to match, and both were accurate statements. She even had her own following of groupies - Foxxies they called themselves - separate from the ordinary Harpies’ fans.

“Bill’s wife is part Veela; I doubt he even registered that Tammy’s a witch,” she said with a laugh. “But it’s not that. My family is likely to be . . . very interested in the fact that Harry and I are apparently dating.” She shook her head. “They’re either not likely to believe it at all or else be . . .“ she gave Harry a beseeching look. “Am I right?”

He nodded. “There’s a good chance Molly - Mrs. Weasley - is going to be rather enthusiastic about the prospect of Ginny and I together,” he said carefully. Ginny felt her stomach flip.

“Not just my mum; the twins are likely to be absolutely impossible.” She put her head down on the table. Despite knowing that it had already been decided she wondered if it was too late to back out of the scheme. Even if her family somehow bought the ruse, they weren’t likely to give her and Harry any peace about it. By the look on Harry’s face, he’d come to the same conclusion. Fortunately, he was more professional than she was.

“It’ll be more realistic that way,” he said bracingly. He rolled up the parchment with Ginny’s schedule and stood up.

Robards and Kingsley rose a moment later. Robards reached over and shook Gwenog’s hand. “Please be in touch if you have any questions or concerns,” he said. “And thank you for the tickets. My niece is an enormous fan of yours.”

Gwenog smiled. “If you have Ginny let me know ahead of time, I’ll get her into the locker room before a game,” she said. Robards nodded.

“I’ll have Harry give her a few dates,” he said.

They were already talking as if she and Harry were a couple, she noticed, and tried not to grimace. If this was really going to happen, she was going to have to work on her game face, and quickly.

Kingsley touched her shoulder as he left but didn’t say anything else. He probably had a lot of important things that had piled up while he took time off for this meeting. She frowned. Even if there was something Dark and not just an ordinary fan behind the letters, that was something the Aurors could handle just fine. There had to be a reason the Minister of Magic had taken time out of his busy schedule to tell Ginny that she was expected to fake a relationship with Harry for her own protection.

“I’ll see you at Barnfield in the morning,” Gwenog said, naming the Harpies training centre. Her grin grew a little wicked. “Be prepared to run a lot of steps.”

Ginny matched her expression. “I’m ready.” She vowed to go for a run that very afternoon.

“I’ll walk you out,” said Robards to Gwenog. “There are a few Aurors who’d like autographs if you don’t mind.”

And then Harry and Ginny were alone in the conference room, which normally wouldn’t have made her think twice. Now she noticed the people walking back and forth past the doorway and wondered if they were questioning why she and Harry were alone together. Her stomach growled suddenly and Harry grinned. “Miss lunch?”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t the one to schedule the meeting for noon.” Now would be the time for her to ask if he wanted to grab something to eat; there was no reason why she shouldn’t. They had lunch together almost as regularly as she did with one of her brothers or Hermioine, or Luna. Harry noticed her discomfort.

“Do you want to yell at me?”

It broke some of the tension she was feeling. She shrugged. “Either yell or ask you a million questions,” she admitted. “But I couldn’t even ask if you wanted to get a bite to eat without feeling like we’re going to end up on the cover of Witch Weekly.”

“That won’t happen until after the anniversary commemoration,” he said with such confidence that Ginny gaped at him.

“I was joking, I think,” she said. Harry grimaced.

“I wasn’t. It’s going to be all over the gossip columns, you know.” There wasn’t even the barest hint of ego in his voice, not that Ginny would have expected any. Without really realizing it, she’d followed him out of the office and through the department’s maze of desks and cubicles towards the lifts.

“I know,” she said, once they were in the corridor. “I guess I hadn’t really thought about it though.”

“What, in the hour since you first heard the plan?” Harry’s lips quirked. “You’re taking this remarkably well. I argued with Gawain and Kingsley for two days before I agreed.”

The lift arrived at that moment and they stopped talking while it slowly made its way to the Atrium. Was it her imagination or were people already staring at them? She shook her head; no one was giving them any mind. But Harry’s comment stuck with her, and as soon as they were walking towards the bank of fireplaces, she asked the question that had been on her mind almost since she’d learned of the plan.

“Do you think it’s a bad idea?” There was no question that Harry had some hesitations, but Ginny wasn’t sure how much he’d really objected to his superiors. He would never have let himself be forced into something he didn’t want to do, she was sure of that.

Harry opened his mouth and then closed it again. “We have a lot to talk about.”

“No shit,” said Ginny. “Isn’t that what we’re doing?”

“Well, yes,” Harry agreed. He looked around the crowded Atrium. “But I don’t think . . .”

“Harry! Perfect, I was hoping I’d run into you. Do you have a moment?” Arthur Weasley gave his daughter a one-armed hug. “What pulled you away from the pitch, sweetheart? Are the two of you off to something important?” Her father smiled mildly, and although Ginny was always happy to see him, his timing was definitely not ideal. There was not a hint of suggestion in his question though, and she breathed out a little sigh.

“Umm, hi Dad. No, umm, Harry and I were just, I mean, we had a . . . we ran into each other. On accident. And we thought maybe we’d grab a late lunch. She carefully avoided answering his question about why she was at the Ministry in the first place.

Fortunately, her father was not a suspicious man when it came to his children, Fred and George sometimes excepted, of course. Where Molly might have asked any number of questions, Arthur accepted her stammering explanation without comment and turned back to Harry.

“If it’s not a good time, that’s okay, but I’d hoped to get your thoughts on an upcoming raid my department has planned.” He lowered his voice. “A group selling coursework by owl-post that’s supposed to teach spells to fight curses like Fiendfyre and Deathwater.” He shook his head. “It’s not much more than an enhanced Auguamenti, which obviously doesn’t work, as you both know.”

Ginny shuddered in remembrance. When they’d tried to return to the Room of Requirement the day after the battle, a wooden door had appeared and then immediately disintegrated into ash. It had taken weeks before anyone had been able to enter at all and the last she’d heard, it was only just now starting to give people what they required. Pushing aside visions of being chased by enormous, Basilisk-shaped flames, she gave a nonchalant shrug.

“It’s nothing important, what Harry and I were doing. Just a little talk. You know, to catch up on what we’ve been . . . since I joined the Harpies we haven’t . . . we’re just having lunch.” Next to her, Harry had stayed silent, obviously having decided that anything he’d add to her babbling would just raise suspicion. Now he nodded at her father.

“That’s concerning. The Aurors definitely have a lot on their plates right now.” Harry might have been talking about the weather, and Ginny silently marveled to herself that he could be so calm. Arthur frowned.

“Is this about the letters? Have they figured out who’s sending them? If that’s what you two need to talk about I don’t want to interrupt; are you directly assigned to the case?” That question was directed at Harry, of course. “I’ll admit that Molly and I would feel some relief knowing that you were part of the Auror detail around Ginny.” He held up his hand to stop Ginny’s protest. “Not that you need watching, and yes, I know you can take care of yourself, but if there are going to be a number of Aurors buzzing around the Harpies, wouldn’t you rather it be someone you know?” He looked thoughtful for a moment. “I suppose Ron would be okay too.”

“No!” The word burst out of Ginny’s mouth before she could stop herself. Out of her father’s sight Harry startled, then smirked.

“I just mean, if Ron’s there, it’ll be like he’s my minder, you know?” Ginny spoke quickly and then shot Harry a look of warning. It felt like they were getting into dangerous territory, discussing who would be watching Ginny before the two of them had a chance to talk. Hell, hadn’t her father mentioned an ‘Auror detail’? He didn’t even know Ginny was going to have a single Auror assigned to her for public events, let alone that it was going to be Harry. And he still looked like he was trying not to laugh, the prat. Still, she let him answer her father, uncertain what the right thing to say was. Should she be planting seeds for later when they suddenly revealed they were dating? She wouldn’t even know where to start.

Harry hesitated a moment. “Ginny and I weren’t going to talk about anything important, ” he said finally. “Why don’t you and I go up to your office and talk? I’m sure Gawain will want to know what you’ve found.” He gave Ginny half a glance and a little shrug and she understood that he didn’t know the right thing to say either.

“I’ll see you at the Burrow then,” she said carefully. “You’re coming for dinner Sunday, right?”

“Right,” he said, just as slowly. She could practically see the wheels turning in his head as he tried to figure out when they’d have a chance to talk before then. “Umm, have a good practice tomorrow. And, Saturday?”

“Only until 4 on Saturday,” said Ginny, assuming Harry would get the hint. She gave her father another hug and then continued on her way to the Floo and lunch, while her father and Harry turned back to the lifts.

When she got out of the shower that night at her flat, there was an owl waiting patiently for her on the ledge outside her window. She was only a little startled; Bill had enhanced all the wards himself after the first anonymous letter had arrived and there was no way an unauthorized message could be anywhere near her home. And anyway, she recognized Harry’s owl Orion.

She suspected Harry had been in a hurry when he’d written the note; his familiar scrawl rose and dipped across the page more than usual and Ginny could hear his voice in her head as she read.

Ginny - we Definitely have to talk before Sunday, I had no idea what to say to your dad! So, Saturday night works? Come here - Ron’s at Hermione’s then. It’s “date night” - are we going to have to have those? Oi - just let me know if you can come. - Harry

Oh, and I have something to show you.


Despite everything, Ginny had to smile. At least he’d been nervous too, even though he hadn’t shown it. Although that meant he was probably going to be better at faking this relationship too. She sighed to herself Maybe once they’d talked everything through she’d be able to pretend as well as he did. Pretend that she was dating Harry Potter. Right.

It was a position any number of witches would have given up a lot of Galleons to be in. Mostly those who didn’t know Harry at all, or those who only thought they did. Ginny knew how embarrassed he was about the attention he got from the public and the press, and she couldn’t understand how anyone could be so fanwitch crazy about him without even knowing him - especially since plenty of people had been so quick to believe he was a nutter back when Fudge was Minister. And now that she was suddenly the object of similar unwanted attention, she understood even more.

Sure, she supposed he was objectively good looking - he and Ron had both gotten tall but while Ron was still gangly Harry had filled out across the shoulders - a fact she knew because Fred and George had blown up the cover of a Witch Weekly that proclaimed that very fact. It didn’t matter though, to Ginny he was still just Harry - the slightly awkward and intensely private boy she’d first met when she was eleven - and a good friend. He’d never even made her feel bad about nearly getting them killed in the Chamber; if anything, it had cemented their friendship.

Ginny sent Orion back with a note telling Harry she’d be at Grimmauld Place by 7 Saturday night and then flopped back on her bed with a groan. There were probably a million things they were overlooking with the plan, any one of which could cause the whole thing to disintegrate in an instant.

Would that matter so much? Sure, it would probably be embarrassing to be caught fake dating one of her close friends, but it’s not like the Aurors would stop watching out for her or trying to figure out who was behind those letters.

She shivered, and not because it was unseasonably cold and wet for late April. It wasn’t that she was scared; anyone who’d faced Voldemort and the other horrors of the war couldn’t be frightened of what might just be a poor joke. But still, she had to admit it was a little disconcerting, thinking that some stranger had taken the time to single her out like that. The Aurors had questioned her in depth about anyone she might have angered or offended but she’d come up empty; all of Voldemort’s followers excepted, of course. But by that metric, her entire family should be receiving letters. They’d even gone so far as to question Dean and Michael Corner, not that Ginny thought for a second either of them were involved. Dean was perfectly nice, just not right for her, and Micheal was a git but not dangerous.

She started to roll up Harry’s note so it would fit in the bin when his postscript caught her eye. What did he have to show her, she wondered? Did he even mean it was something related to their situation? With Harry, it might have been a new Quidditch move or a letter from Hagrid or even some restaurant he wanted to try. Well, she’d find out soon enough. Yawning, she pulled on an oversized t-shirt and snuggled into bed, trying to put thoughts of fake dating and pretend boyfriends out of her head, at least for the night.

Back to index


Chapter 3: The Unfakeable Vow?

Friday and Saturday at the Harpies practice facility felt very normal. Ginny stretched, ran, flew, listened to Gwenog, joked with her teammates, and put everything else out of her mind. It helped that there were no fans or press around and everyone was singularly focused on getting ready for the start of summer league games. Even though it was shorter and somewhat less competitive than the regular season that would begin in October, the teams still took the games seriously, using the warmer months to try out new formations, strategies, and players. It would be Ginny’s first introduction to professional Quidditch and Gwenog had told her that if she played well enough she might be able to secure a starting spot as a Chaser in the fall.

Their first game, against Tutshill, would be four days after the war commemoration event at the Ministry. Gwenog scheduled several hours Saturday devoted to that team’s particular style of play, first in a huddle on the ground and then up in the air, practicing defensive and offensive moves. Afterwards, she called them for a meeting.

Ginny was feeling good about how she’d played, and she walked companionably with one of the Harpies’ Beaters out of the locker room, squeezing water out of her hair and quickly plaiting it in a post-shower braid.

“My drying spells always make my hair look wonky when I rush,” she said with a grimace. “I never paid enough attention about how to do them properly.”

Kennedy’s hair was smooth and sleek, not a strand out of place. She grinned. “I have three older sisters; their beauty spells rubbed off on me.”

“Well that explains it,” laughed Ginny. “I have six older brothers. And not one of them cares what my hair looks like.”

“Six? Are any of them single?” The other Beater, Katrina Bloch, joined them as they entered the lounge where the team held most of its meetings.

“Charlie is . . . I think,” said Ginny. The second-oldest Weasley’s romantic life was the subject of more than a little speculation among his siblings. Last time he’d been home he’d confessed to having sex in a dragon’s nest during a raucous game of Never Have I Ever organized by Fred and George. It had been Ginny’s question and she’d thrown it out there mostly as a joke. But then Charlie turned red and took a big gulp of Firewhiskey before refusing to say anything more. But she didn’t need to share any of that now.

‘He lives in Romania,” she said apologetically. The rest of them are pretty much tied down; even my brother Percy has a girlfriend, not that we know much about her”.

“I remember Percy from Hogwarts,” said Katrina with a chuckle. “And I’ll pass. I’m not nearly enough of a rule-follower.”

They all had a good laugh as they picked out seats on the comfy couches scattered around the room. Gwenog was standing and talking to the Harpies’ head of security and three people in Auror’s robes, including George’s girlfriend Angelina Johnson and, Ginny realized with a start, Gawain Robards. She tried to remember if Harry had mentioned that his boss would be here but didn’t think so; she wondered if he knew. His presence brought an immediate shift in the atmosphere, and Ginny saw more than one tense look on the faces of her teammates. Several glanced at her, and then quickly away.

She sat up straight, feeling a stab of guilt.

“I’m sorry, I know this isn’t what you all need to deal with,” she said, trying to make eye contact with each of her teammates.

Katrina snorted. “Happens every time someone new joins the team. Some overzealous fan who thinks if he’s the first to reach out, he’ll get an ‘in’ with you.”

“Or she,” said Chaser Paloma Wilde mildly.

“Or she,” agreed Katrina. “Security will figure out who it is, they’ll have a little talk with him . . . or her, and then we can go back to the normal crazies who just send us their underwear to sign.”

Personally, Ginny suspected the head of the Aurors didn’t get involved every time someone new joined the Harpies, but she didn’t say so; she didn’t need to amp up everyone’s nerves any more than they already were. She’d be seeing Harry in just a few hours and he’d tell her everything she really needed to know. Things his boss may have kept from her for one reason or another.

As if reading her mind, Gawain Robards cleared his throat. “Can you all listen up? This won’t take long. I’m Gawain Robards, head of the British Aurors, for those of you who don’t know me, and these are two of my associates, Angelina Johnson and Justin Finch-Fletchly. They’ll be working with the Harpies ordinary security team while we track down the . . . fan who’s behind the most recent activity.”

He made the situation sound like it was not much more than a prank from Fred and George, and Ginny knew Robards was downplaying the situation for everyone else. He nodded at Ginny. “Even though the current attention is focused on Miss Weasley here, the Aurors will be spending their time equally, making sure everyone is secure.” He looked around the room. “Show of hands - how many of you are familiar with basic defensive spells?”

A couple of the players who’d gone to Hogwarts hesitantly raised their hands. Katrina leaned forward. “None as good as Ginny though; she probably needs less watching over than the rest of us. We didn’t fight in the Final Battle or have Harry Potter teaching us extra defense.” There was a murmur of agreement and Ginny blushed. She was the youngest on the team but it was true that she had a lot more experience fighting than anyone else. They’d even talked about it after the first strange letter had arrived. It had made her uncomfortable at first, until she realized that far from thinking she was bragging, her teammates were comforted by the fact of her knowledge and experience. The fact that she’d been taught by the Savior of the Wizarding World himself was even more reason to be impressed with her skill.

What were her teammates going to say when they found out she was dating him?

HPHPHPHPHP

Harry paced restlessly around the kitchen, waiting for Ginny to come through the Floo. Twice he picked up the bottle of Firewhiskey, intending to pour himself a drink and then twice put it down again. He poked at the platter of cheese and crackers and fruits and things he’d ordered from a shop down the street and frowned at it, thinking his first idea pizza would have been better. The fancy food felt like a date.

That thought made him finally pour himself a glass of whiskey. Ginny was his friend, one of his best friends even, but his girlfriend? He took a big drink.

It wasn’t like there hadn’t been jokes about it, over the years. Not about Ginny’s childhood crush anymore; after the Chamber even Fred and George had let that particular bit of teasing die. But in the years after that, every so often someone would ask if Harry or Ginny had ever fancied the other, as if their proximity made such a coupling inevitable. Tonks had been particularly fascinated about the possibility, Harry remembered with a start. It was usually worth some laughs and denials and then Fred and George making kissing noises around them for a few days, but that was all. He and Ginny just rolled their eyes at each other, both equally confident in the other’s lack of interest.

And now they were going to have to convince everyone that Guess what? Changed our minds!

He’d seen the doubt on Ginny’s face at the meeting with Kingsley and Robards and he couldn’t blame her, even if he’d tried not to show it. He was an Auror, and this was his job. His job to date Ginny Weasley, right.

Just then the Floo flared green and the real thing stepped through. Ginny gave him a sheepish smile, looking as tongue-tied as he felt. He handed her a glass of Firewhiskey and she took a grateful sip, and then another.

“This shouldn’t be so difficult,” she said finally. “I mean, pretending to date, yeah, that’s going to be hard. But you and me talking?” She shook her head. “We can do this.”

Ginny had obviously been doing some thinking about things, and Harry wasn’t surprised. She wasn’t one to run from challenges or danger, even one as odd as being forced to date her best friend. He took a deep breath and nodded. “We can,” he agreed. “Not that we have much of a choice.”

She nodded. “Thank you for that honesty.” Her eyes fell on the tray of food. “Did you make a charcuterie board?”

Harry snorted. “Would you believe me if I said yes?”

“Not for a minute,” said Ginny with a grin. She picked it up. “Looks delicious. Shall we go up to the sitting room?”

Harry grabbed the bottle, feeling a little more relaxed at the familiarity of their joking. “Yeah, I built a fire.”

“Well this just gets more and more romantic,” teased Ginny. “Are you trying to woo me?”

“Apparently I don’t need to,” Harry joked back. “My boss and the Minister of Magic took care of all that.” They plopped themselves down on the sofas in the sitting room and Harry shot his wand at the fireplace to build up the flames.

“Well yeah, let’s start there.” Ginny obviously wasn’t going to waste time with niceties, not that she needed to. “Cause Gwenog’s right. The Harpies get crazy fans all the time. Why’d Kingsley get involved?”

Harry shifted in his seat. “He was already concerned after the first letter arrived,” he said. “Because let’s face it, you aren’t just another Quidditch player.” He gave her a pointed look and Ginny sighed, unsurprised.

It had been a big deal when the Harpies had signed her, and not only because of her age. Her family was better known for its activities resisting Voldemort than she’d realized, and their long relationship with Harry made it even more so. “So even if it’s a fan, it’s not ‘just’ a fan,” she said. Harry nodded.

“You’ve been targeted because you’re a Weasley, and most likely because you’re Ginny Weasley, and also because you’re friends with me,” he said bluntly. His mouth twisted. “I got a letter too.”

This was new information. Ginny put down the piece of cheese she’d been about to eat and stared at Harry. “When?”

“After the one that came to the Burrow but before the DA,” he said. “It was waiting for me at a shop I was investigating in Knockturn Alley. The owner had no idea where it came from.”

“Did you . . .?” she began, and Harry smiled.

“Yes Ginny, the Aurors confirmed that the man was telling the truth.”

“Sorry,” she said sheepishly. “What did it say?”

“Same as the other ones, your name and nothing else, and then disintegrated. But it arrived at a place you never intended to be, but I was.” He shrugged, knowing she’d figure it out. She thought for a moment.

“Is that why Kingsley and Robards want us to fake that we’re together? Since whoever it is who’s sending these letters seems to be targeting both of us?” Harry nodded.

“I thought it was a bad idea at first,” he admitted. “Feels like we’re walking into their trap, purposely being together all the time. If this is someone really dangerous or Dark and not just a crazier than usual Harpies fan then wouldn’t it be better to stay apart and have a different Auror watch over you?”

“I thought we’d agreed I don’t need a bodyguard,” said Ginny quickly, but there was much less heat behind her words than had been during the meeting at the Ministry. She wasn’t scared, Harry knew, but she also wasn’t stupid enough to be incautious for the sake of bravado. “Personally I think having us be together is a good idea. It’ll make it easier to figure out who’s behind it because they won’t have to divide their attention.”

Harry groaned and rubbed his eyes over his face. “You sound just like Kingsley.” He peered at her. “And you’re right, of course. I just needed to get over my completely rational desire not to keep putting members of the Weasley family in danger.”

“Strictly speaking, I think I put myself in danger,” Ginny quipped calmly. She cocked her head at him. “It’s not a fan, is it? No matter what Kingsley said?”

Harry shook his head. “That was mostly for Gwenog’s benefit. I know they questioned you about anyone you think it could be but if you think of anyone else, just let me know.”

Ginny grimaced. “Most of the people I thought of are dead. Draco, Goyle, Bellatrix. And remember, Crabbe got hit with a collapsing wall after we all left the Room of Requirement and has been in St. Mungo’s since then. I tried to remember which Death Eaters I hexed when we were at the Ministry and then the night Dumbledore died, but they’re all dead or locked up too. It’s probably someone I don’t even realize I hurt.” She spoke dispassionately, and Harry understood. It was hard to feel emotional about causing the death of someone who’d brought it on themself and who had been trying their hardest to kill you at the time. Her face grew solemn. “So exactly how much danger am I in? Inquisitorial Squad? Carrows at Hogwarts? Voldemort in the graveyard danger?” She may have spoken lightly but Harry knew Ginny wasn’t making light of any of those situations, or her own.

“Probably somewhere closer to the Carrows,” he allowed. Gawain had tried to insist they downplay the danger for Ginny, arguing that “crazed fan” was all she needed to know. Harry had pushed back. He knew Ginny would figure out the truth quickly, if she ever believed Robards’ version at all, and moreover, it wasn’t safe for her to not to know. “I told Robards you needed to know whatever the Aurors know.” His mouth quirked. “And that you could take care of yourself.”

Instead of a smart-aleck retort that it was about time he knew it, or something similar, Ginny gave him a small smile. “I’ll admit I’m glad you’ll be there too. Taking care of yourself, of course.”

“Of course,” said Harry. They both sipped their whiskey and ate fancy cheese and crackers in silence for a little while. Harry watched Ginny carefully. He believed her when she said she wasn’t scared, but there was a tenseness around her mouth that meant she had something on her mind. He leaned across the coffee table and nudged her hand. “Hey. What are you thinking about?”

She huffed out a sigh. “It’s just . . . it’s stupid, actually.”

Harry waited, and after a moment Ginny huffed again.

“I’m just, I don’t want all this to affect my playing, and I know that should be the least of it, but all I can think about is that I’m going to have to pretend to be your girlfriend all the time and make it look real, and I have no idea how to do that and if I screw up and blow your cover then you’ll never catch the . . . whoever it is.” She said all of this very fast, looking down at her hands, and then took a big gulp of Firewhiskey when she was done.

Harry stared at her for a long second, making sure he understood what Ginny was saying. She didn’t lift her head but a faint blush climbed her cheeks. There were several threads in her speech and he had to think about which one to pull first.

“I won’t let this interfere with your playing,” he finally said, hoping he sounded firm. That was the first thing Ginny had mentioned. “And it’s not stupid. It’s going to be hard to pretend and I honestly don’t know how we’re going to do it.” Ginny opened her mouth but Harry held up his hand and she closed it again. “But at least for me, it’s part of my job. For you, it’s an interference.”

“This is not your fault, Harry.” Ginny actually sounded amused. “They targeted me first and there’s a good chance it’s something Dark. Of course the Aurors had to get involved, and you’ve almost convinced me that this is a halfway decent plan.” She gave a little shrug. “I’m just trying to get used to the weirdness of it all.”

“Me too,” said Harry fervently. He stood up. “Which gets me to the thing I wanted to show you. I went to the bookstore today. In disguise.” He didn’t mention that his disguise had been that of an older lady with blue hair and sensible shoes; she’d never let him live that down.

“The bookstore?” Now Ginny sounded both amused and curious. “Did Hermione make you go?”

“Nope, I did it myself.” Harry reached over the side of the sofa for the bag from Flourish and Blotts.

“Why did you go in disguise?” Ginny looked suddenly horrified. “Don’t tell me you were buying sex books; I don’t care what else we have to do to fake a relationship, but I am not sleeping with you.”

“Of course not,” said Harry quickly. He couldn’t even imagine such a thing. “But we’re going to have to make it look real enough, so I got these to help us out.” He dumped the bag of slim volumes on the table. Ginny picked one up and snorted.

“Reparo My Heart?” She grabbed a second. “The Witch Hitch? Harry, these are cheap romance novels. How are these supposed to help?”

“They have a lot about fake dating in them,” he said defensively. “Look here, ‘The Unfakeable Vow’ is about a wizard who needs to prove to his family that he’s fallen in love with a witch in order to inherit a fortune. It’s got to have something useful in it, right?” The idea had made a lot of sense at the time but now Harry was starting to feel foolish. He considered laughing and telling Ginny he’d gotten the books as a joke but then she picked up another and turned it over.

“Obliviate Me, by Amor Tentia.” She grinned at Harry. “Do you think that’s her real name and she grew up knowing that she’d have to become a romance novelist?”

“Better than Polly Joos,” he said, waving another volume. “Listen, it was a dumb idea, we don’t have to look at the books.”

“Actually, maybe not that dumb.” Ginny had opened the Unfakeable Vow to a random page and was reading intently. “See here, the witch - Ambrosia - is afraid she blew the ruse because she couldn’t tell Spellman’s parents where they’d met.” Ginny turned the page. “Oh, he saved her; he said it was because they disagreed whether it was when he bumped into her out walking her Kneazle or later when he saw her at a pub and actually introduced himself.” She looked up. “That won’t be a problem for us since we already know everything about each other.”

Harry was more focused on something else Ginny had said. “Their names are Ambrosia and Spellman?” Ambrosia was a salad with marshmallows and tinned fruit his Aunt Petunia had been fond of; Harry thought it was ghastly. Ginny flipped through the pages.

“Ambrosia Apple and Spellman Strongwand,” she said with a giggle. “Can you imagine?”

“No,” Harry muttered. He picked up another book. “Unforgivable: a dangerous love story.” He opened to the table of contents and then quickly slammed it shut. “I don’t think there’s anything we can learn from chapters called ‘tie me up’ or ‘wandshock’,” he said with a grimace.

“Definitely not,” Ginny shuddered. “But this one looks promising - ‘For All the Gold in Gringotts.’ Looks like another pretend romance, but this time the witch told her family she has a boyfriend to get them off her back and now they all want her to bring him to her sister’s wedding. Apparently she asks her co-worker to go with her in exchange for paying off a debt he owes. Too bad none of my brothers are close enough to getting married.” She kept reading. “Yep, this one also has one half of the couple not being able to answer basic questions about the other. That’s not going to be our issue.”

“We’re still going to need to come up with a story about how we started dating,” he muttered. He’d picked up Unfakeable Vow again and turned to a later chapter. “And I’d like to know how they end the ruse.” He skimmed the chapters, looking for anything that might help. A paragraph where the couple seemed to be fighting caught his eye and he began to read more carefully.

“This might be it,” he said. “They get in a fight.” He was half reading and half talking to Ginny as he flipped pages. “We could fake an argument at some point once we catch the guy, right? Ginny?” He looked up. She was watching him with a familiar, half amused, half exasperated look on her face. He put the book down. “What did I do?” Normally she reserved the look for when he and Ron did something they should have known better than to do. Playing Quidditch blindfolded had earned it, as had trying to teach the gnomes to throw themselves over the garden wall. Now she sighed.

“They don’t stay in a fight, Harry.” Her expression told him he was missing something but he had no idea what. He thought for a second.

“So they . . . make up, and . . . don’t stop fake dating after all?” For a moment he thought he’d gotten it right; Ginny’s face lit up and then fell again. She rolled her eyes.

“Harry.” Ginny’s tone was overly patient. “Do you understand . . . how they make up? Not just Ambrosia and Spellman, but pretty much every couple in every one of these books ever.” She grabbed another one.

“Like, Cassiopeia Star and Ash Bigwand , who’ve grown up hating each other and don’t realize they’ve become each other’s pen pal? ‘Owl Be Loving You?’ Can you guess what happens when they figure things out?” She looked at him expectantly.

“Does every bloke have a name related to the size of his . . .?” Harry began and then stopped, realizing what Ginny was asking, and that yes, he did know, given that it was how his best mate and his girlfriend resolved a lot of their disagreements. He groaned. “They sleep together? Every one of them?”

“Well, maybe not sex right away,” Ginny amended. She made a face. “But they all realize they’ve fallen madly in love, regardless of whether they started out as enemies or strangers, or coworkers. It’s pretty much required in these books.”

“Good thing we aren’t a book then.” Harry spoke without thinking. A beat late he realized that might be rude, even to say to Ginny, but then she huffed in agreement.

“It won’t happen to us.” She spoke with such confidence Harry wondered if she’d been thinking about it before tonight. Something kept him from asking though. Instead he nodded back.

“We aren’t enemies, or strangers or coworkers,” he pointed out, refraining from asking if any of the plots involved two friends. “Which means people are likely to ask a lot of questions if we suddenly show up at the war commemoration holding hands or something.”

“I’ve been thinking about that.” Ginny stacked the books in a neat pile on the coffee table. “No one’s going to believe that we’ve both suddenly decided we like each other enough to show up in public out of whole cloth, and the entire thing will fall apart immediately if we try to convince them. Right?”

“Uhh, right,” agreed Harry. “So where does that leave us?” Despite the fact that he’d agreed with Kingsley and Gawain that this was the best plan to both keep Ginny safe and also figure out who was behind the threat, it was feeling impossible to pull off right now.

“We fake the beginning of our relationship, of course. Tell everyone you’ve fancied me for a while and finally got up the nerve to ask me out and I decided to give you a chance, even though I never really thought about you like that. That way if it’s awkward no one will think twice.” She sat back, looking pleased with herself.

Harry immediately saw a flaw in the plan. “Why does it have to be me who fancied you? You actually had a crush on me once, you know.”

“When I was 8 and before I knew you!” said Ginny indignantly. She shrugged. “It just makes more sense that you’d fancy me, you know, since I’m a new Harpy and getting all that attention and all.” She spoke so matter-of-factly that Harry had to throw a sofa pillow at her.

“And I’m Harry bloody Potter,” he retorted. “I do know a thing or two about being fancied by the masses, you know.” He pointed at his chest. “Witch Weekly’s most eligible bachelor, remember?” He shook his head. “If anything, I think we should say that you fancied me first and I took pity on you and agreed to a date.”

Harry got his shield up before Ginny could hex him so she had to console herself with a rude hand gesture instead. He laughed at the look on his face as he took down the spell. “Okay, that was maybe a bit uncalled for,” he admitted with a grin.

“A bit!” Ginny huffed. “Get this straight, Potter. I have never been, and never will be, someone’s charity case.” She waved her wand in his direction and he pretended to flinch.

‘Okay, okay,” he said. “I’ll come up with another idea.”

“Or I will,” said Ginny pointedly. “Umm, right. Uhh, it’s a dare? Or maybe a bet?”

“Did I win or lose?” asked Harry with a smirk. Then he shook his head. “No, it has to be real, or at least look real.” He considered for a moment, and then nodded. “Okay, I asked you out.” It was the most believable scenario, and as an Auror, probably his duty to take the fall anyway. Besides, Ginny was handling things better than she needed to; he could give her this at least. She nodded knowingly.

“You’re thinking that it’s part of your job as an Auror to give in, aren’t you?”

Harry knew better than to disagree. He sighed. “Yes.”

Ginny smiled a genuine smile. “Thank you.” She gestured to the stack of books on the coffee table. “You’d better hide these somewhere before Ron or someone sees them.” Then she smirked. “But not too far away in case we need to reference them at some point.”

Harry said a spell and the books winked out of sight. “Maybe I should have sent them to the Burrow; we’re going to tell your family tomorrow night, aren’t we?”

Ginny looked suddenly shocked and Harry knew how she felt. It had still seemed kind of like a joke until then, and Harry’s comment made it all real, something they were actually going to have to do - tomorrow. He felt unaccountably guilty again, even though he knew none of this was his fault. Ginny stared for another second and then shook her head as if to clear it.

“I guess I didn’t realize . . . yeah, we have to tell everyone tomorrow.” She tapped her hands on the table, an uncharacteristically nervous gesture for her. Harry put his hand on her arm.

“It says something that you’re more worried about telling your family we’re dating than about the unknown wizard who’s threatening you.”

Ginny snorted. “Aren’t you?”

“Hell yes,” Harry said immediately.

And then it was okay. They agreed to arrive together to dinner and let the fact that they were dating come up naturally, preferably, Ginny said, after everyone had eaten and had a drink or two.

“Hopefully everyone will be tired and wanting to get home before work on Monday so they won’t question us too much,” she said, but the doubt in her voice was palpable.

“Yeah hopefully,” Harry said. He walked her down to the kitchen to use the Floo there so they didn’t have to put out the fire in the sitting room. Once there awkwardness returned.

“I’ll uh, see you here tomorrow night then,” Ginny said. She was very intent on grabbing a pinch of Floo powder.

“Yeah, I’ll be waiting here at 5:45,” Harry said. “And then we’ll go together.”

“Together,” Ginny echoed, before stepping into the fireplace and whirling back off to her flat. Harry stared at the empty grate for much longer than necessary before going upstairs to bring down the food and things. He realized he had no idea how things would go tomorrow with the Weasleys and the thought was disconcerting. But for better or for worse, he wasn’t going to be alone. If he and Ginny were going to fall, they were going to fall together. The thought gave him a small measure of comfort.


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Chapter 4: What Did Harry Do?

Author's Notes: This chapter didn't end exactly how I wanted tit to, but I've already started Chapter 4 and it's fixing some of the things that were bugging me - I hope.


What they couldn’t have predicted was that none of the Weasleys would figure it out at all.

Actually, that wasn’t true, Ginny thought as she sat next to Harry at dinner and dutifully listened to Percy talking about plans to replace the Fountain of Magical Brethren, which had been torn down after the War. She and Harry absolutely should have predicted that her family wouldn’t notice they were together. Because of course, they weren’t.

Oh, they’d tried, arriving one immediately after the other through the Floo, Harry reaching out to steady Ginny as she wobbled. But then Ron had grabbed Harry to play chess and Bill wanted to ask Ginny about security at the stadium and the most they’d been able to do is lock eyes in a panic before they got pulled in different directions. They hadn’t had a moment to talk again until they were all seated around the table, and then only for Harry to ask Ginny if she wanted the peas.

Ginny’s thoughts swirled. Why didn’t anyone mention the Anniversary Commemoration? Should she say something herself? Did Harry want to bring it up himself? If she couldn’t even bring herself to look at him, how was she going to pretend to date him?

Across the table, Ron was whispering to Hermione and Angelina and George were flicking water at each other and laughing. Fleur was feeding Bill bits of food off her spoon, but Ginny was able to ignore them; even if she and Harry were together for real there was no way she’d ever want to feed him. But she could whisper something to him, couldn’t she? Before she thought about it any more, she turned her head to Harry and leaned in, promptly smashing her mouth into the back of his head.

“Ow!” Harry turned back from whatever he’d been saying to Fred and looked at her in confusion. “Did you just bite me?”

Of course that got everyone’s attention. Conversation stopped as everyone waited for Ginny’s explanation, which of course was not forthcoming. “Umm, uhh, sorry,” she finally said. “I was going to uhh, tell you a secret. I mean, not really a secret, just something I uhh, wanted to tell you and your head got . . . in the way..” She felt her face flame.

“Reminds me of that time we convinced Ron that brown hair tasted like chocolate, remember that, Gred?” George leaned across the table and looked at his twin.

“I certainly do Forge. Started chewing on a Muggle girl’s plait down in the village. Mum almost had to Obliviate the lot.” He turned towards his sister. “You do understand that we were just having a go at Ron, don’t you?”

“And that Ron was five,” added Fred. “It was the same month we tried to get him to make an Unbreakable Vow, wasn’t it? I don’t think I sat comfortably for two weeks.”

“I wasn’t trying to eat Harry’s hair,” said Ginny crossly. “And I’m not planning an Unfakeable Vow either, so don’t bother asking.” Next to her, Harry sucked in his breath and muttered shite. A moment later she realized what she’d said and the entire table erupted in laughs.

“What’s an Unfakeable Vow?” asked Ron. “A spell to tell if someone’s lying to you?”

“I’ve never heard of one,” chimed in Hermione. “Is it a variation of the Unbreakable Vow? I’d imagine a number of applications, used properly, of course.”

Ginny tried not to groan. If her misstep was interesting enough even for Hermione there was no way anyone was going to let the issue die. Indeed, it seemed like everyone was just getting started.

“Sounds like a product for your back room,” added Bill with a smirk. “So blokes can make sure they’re pleasing their partners for real.” He looked at his wife. “Not that we’d ever need it.”

“Of course not; zat would be for amateurs,” said Fleur serenely. “But eet’s not a spell; eet’s a book.”

“I knew it sounded familiar!” Angelina smacked her hand on the table and then nudged Katie. “Who’s that author you like? The one who writes those romance novels?”

“Mia Lovegood,” giggled Katie. “I always wondered if she was related to Luna. “Her stories are great; she’s most fond of secret romances and fake dating tropes. Unfakeable Vow is one of her most popular.”

Under the table, Harry pressed his knee against hers. She gave a small nod of understanding and tried to look interested in Katie’s story.

“I’m not familiar with those books,” she said carefully. “They sound interesting.” That was a safe comment. Harry cleared his throat.

“Actually, I could imagine Luna being the author herself and not telling any of us,” he said with a chuckle. It sounded strained to Ginny but she didn’t think anyone else would notice. For a wild moment she wondered what would happen if she just grabbed Harry’s hand and just as quickly abandoned the idea.

Fortunately, Harry’s comment rerouted the conversation to a discussion of what Luna was up to these days. It turned out that she’d begun dating the grandson of the famed naturalist Newt Scamander and was currently traipsing around South America with him looking for new magical creatures. Thanks to some rather lively input from Charlie about the mating habits of South American dragons, Ginny was able to finish eating with only occasional contributions to the conversation. Harry was even quieter, but fortunately it was a Sunday night and dinner ended early enough that no one seemed to notice he’d mostly stopped talking. Ginny glanced at him out of the corner of her eye a couple of times, but couldn’t figure out what he was thinking, and so she was justifiably a bit shocked when he turned to her and asked if she wanted to walk with him to the Apparation point.

“I don’t like the Floo on a full stomach, you know,” he said by way of explanation. Of course, Ginny did know this; Harry had preferred Apparition to Floo almost since the moment he’d gotten his license. But the comment - not to mention the request itself - felt unaccountably intimate, given the circumstances. Of course Ginny would know that personal detail, since she and Harry were dating. And of course she’d want to walk alone with him to the Weasley’s Apparation point, where they might what, stop for a snog along the way?”

No one else seemed to harbor these thoughts, of course, or even seemed suspicious that Harry and Ginny were leaving together. Her mum handed them each a basket of leftovers and bid Ginny good luck with her next game (it was a scrimmage, but the sentiment was the same). They were already at the back door when her father called out that he’d see them both Friday night, at the commemoration.

The proper, expected, not-fake-dating response would have been to wave casually over her shoulder on her way out the door. A cheery “see you there” would not have been out of order either. Freezing in her tracks so quickly that Harry bumped into her back and whipping her head around with a rather screeching “What - who told you?” was a little more obvious.

Her father looked confused. “The War Commemoration at the Ministry,” he explained. “Aren’t you planning to go?”

Belatedly Ginny realized her father hadn’t been asking if she and Harry were going together. She gave a jerky nod. “Of course. I’ll umm, see you there too.” She prayed no one decided to ask - now - if she was going with anyone. Harry must have thought the same thing because he gave her a subtle push against her back to get her moving again before calling a quick goodbye and thank you to her mum and dad for dinner.

Neither of them spoke until they were well away from the house and then Harry blew out a breath. “Well, fuck.”

Ginny couldn’t help but giggle. “Can you believe they actually started talking about those books?”

Harry chuckled too. “I can’t believe you actually said ‘Unfakeable Vow.’ I almost choked on my pumpkin juice.” He sighed. “I was sure we’d be able to mention that we’re going to the celebration together; it didn’t even occur to me we wouldn’t be able to slip it in the conversation.”

“Me either,” said Ginny. In fact, she’d been looking forward to getting it out of the way, this first step. Once they’d (hopefully) tricked her family into thinking she and Harry were dating then the rest would be easier. Now she still had it to worry about, not to mention how they were going to fake it for the public. Harry seemed to guess where her thoughts had gone.

“I guess we just tell everyone when we’re there?” He sounded as uncertain as she felt.

“I don’t think we have a choice at this point. They’re going to wonder why we didn’t say anything tonight though.” They were almost at the Apparation spot and Ginny wondered if Harry was going to ask her to come back to Grimmauld Place to talk more about it. But he just nodded, apparently deep in thought. She waited quietly until he looked up, seemingly surprised that they’d made it to the edge of the Weasley property. He shuffled his feet.

“So I guess I should . . . I mean, I’ll pick you up, right? I think I need to get you at your flat so we can go together.”

Ginny nodded. The event was still five days away so she assumed Harry wasn’t expecting that they would see each other before then. “It starts at seven, so why don’t you come round at half-six?” Privately she thought that maybe she’d have some wine or something out for before they left; she suspected they’d each need a bit of “liquid courage” to get through the night. He nodded again and then looked back towards the direction of the Burrow, as if reconsidering whether they should go back. She put her hand on his arm.

“We’ll figure it out when we get there,” she said gently. Harry gave her a rueful smile.

“Since we don’t have another choice, that’s going to be the best plan.”

********

For better or worse, Ginny actually didn’t see Harry that week. The summer league started June 1 and Gwenog told them at least daily that she wanted them to be the best prepared team there. “This isn’t a practice for the regular season, no matter what anyone else thinks,” she was fond of saying, right before setting them to run another set of stadium steps or get back in the air to practice through their entire playbook one more time. The advantage of all this work was that Ginny didn’t have a lot of time to think about Friday. When she did think about it, the prospect of getting a break from her broom canceled out at least some of her nerves. Most of her teammates weren’t going to the event - it was officially called “An Evening for Remembrance and Commemoration” - so the topic of who she was or wasn’t going with didn’t even come up. She had no doubt there would be plenty of locker room chatter about it once she and Harry went public. For now, she just kept her head down and worked her arse off.

On Friday Ginny left practice early and came back to her flat to shower. Her roommates were still at practice and wouldn’t be home until after she and Harry left, which was a relief. Her dress robes were new, purchased with her first Harpies’ paycheck. After much discussion back and forth among the female members of the DA, they were simple and black, trimmed in Gryffindor red. There would be plenty of blue and yellow trimmed robes too, and nothing in green, not that most people would care. Despite calls for unity and understanding, emotions still ran rather deep among those who had fought in the War.

She considered for a minute whether to attempt to do “something” with her hair and quickly decided she didn’t want to look like she was trying too hard. Hermione had taught her a couple of spells and now she picked the easiest, which left her hair loose and smooth, hanging down her back. Makeup was next, and took less than five minutes. She was pouring wine when there was a knock on the door - rather harder than she expected. A second later, Harry called out, also sounding a little bit frantic.

“Oi, Ginny, I have to talk to you!”

She grabbed her wand and opened the door. Harry pushed past her and went straight for the bottle of wine. “You’re going to kill me,” he muttered, before taking a large gulp. He ran his fingers through his hair.

As it didn’t seem that Harry was being chased by Death Eaters or anything, Ginny lowered her wand and walked over to shut the door to her flat. “Why am I going to kill you?” she asked carefully.

Harry didn’t seem to be listening. He was looking around her flat, almost as if expecting someone to jump out of a cupboard. “They didn’t contact you, did they?” he shook his head to himself. “No, they couldn’t have; I got here too fast.” He topped off his glass of wine and handed the second to Ginny before going back to pacing.

“Who’s going to . . .” she began. “Do you know who sent the letters?” It seemed too good to be true, that the Aurors may have already uncovered whoever it was, maybe a crazed fan after all. And they wouldn’t even have to start their charade. They’d still go to the Ministry together; it would be silly not to since Harry was here already. She turned, the words thank goodness, right? already on her lips but before she could say anything he shook his head.

“Ron and Hermione,” he choked out. “They know.”

Ginny stared at Harry for a long moment, trying to make sense of what he’d said. “They know we’re fake dating?” she finally asked. But he shook his head.

“Not that it’s fake, just that we’re dating.” He walked over to the door and shot a silencing spell at it, not that it needed another one. “I didn’t expect them to be home, when I got ready to come here. I thought they were getting ready at Hermione’s. But when I came down to the kitchen in my dress robes, there they were.” He sent a blocking spell at the Floo, again unnecessary; Bill and another cursebreaker had set the wards.

Ginny frowned. “I thought we were going to wait until we got to the party,” she said.

Harry set his glass down on the counter hard enough that some of the wine sloshed over the edge. “We were,” he said heavily. He used his wand to siphon up the spill. “But then Hermione asked if I wanted to Apparate with them and when I said I wasn’t ready, Ron said I looked ready and what else did I think I needed to do, and I said I had to come pick you up.’ He made a movement as if to pick up his wine again and then stopped.

“And they guessed from that comment that we’re dating?” asked Ginny skeptically. “I can’t imagine even Hermione thought that was suspicious.”

“They didn’t, said Harry. “But then she said they’d just come here with me and that way we could all go together and I panicked and said they couldn’t.” He gave Ginny a beseeching look. “I was totally unprepared with a story so when Ron asked why they couldn’t come here why I kind of . . . blurted it out. That we’re dating.”

“What?” Ginny squeaked. “You told them? What did they say?” Suddenly Harry’s attempts to ward her flat even further didn’t seem quite as foolish.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Like I said, I panicked. I told them we were dating and that I was late and then I kind of . . . left. Ran out the back door and Apparated here.” He sat heavily on the sofa and put his head in his hands. “I’m sorry.”

Ginny wasn’t sure whether to scold or laugh. Harry looked so despondent she couldn’t bring herself to tease - too much. “And I thought I was going to be the one to ruin things with my terrible acting skills.” She sat down next to him and patted his knee. “At least you didn’t say it’s a ruse; we’ll just go ahead and tell everyone else when we get to the Ministry.”

Harry huffed. “If there’s anyone left to tell.” He jumped up. “We need to go. Now.”

*********

Ginny didn’t question him, just put down her wine and followed Harry to her building’s Apparition point. Several times she looked ready to say something but each time held back. He groaned to himself, not sure how he’d been able to bollocks things up so badly so quickly. Some Auror he was.

“Some Auror I am,” he grumbled. “It’s fine to act on instinct when you don’t have a choice, but I should have predicted this.”

“We should have predicted this,” pointed out Ginny fairly. “I mean, Ron lives with you, so of course he’d be the most likely one to ask questions.”

Harry appreciated that Ginny wasn’t jumping to throw him to the pixies, but that didn’t address the fact that they’d already lost control of the situation - and now had no time to plan. “So now what?” he said. It was mostly a rhetorical question; they were already at the Apparation point. Ginny looked pensive for half a second and then held out her arm.

“Take me Side-Along,” she said. She gave a tiny shrug. “If we’re going to do this, we may as well do it properly.”

“Properly would have been me keeping my mouth shut just a little longer,” Harry grumbled, but he took Ginny’s arm and focused his thoughts. Splinching them because he was distracted would definitely not help their cause. Her mind seemed to be going the same direction.

“No brooding,” she lectured. “Let’s just fucking do this.”

Her words worked; Harry took a deep breath, concentrated on the Atrium of the Ministry (not difficult since he was there nearly every day), and turned them both on the spot . . .

. . . and arrived to find Ron and Hermione’s incredulous faces staring at them. Arthur and Molly were there too, as well as George and Angelina. And Harry could see Fred and Katie speaking excitedly across the room to Bill and Fleur and Lee Jordan.

“They certainly worked fast,” Ginny muttered next to him. He started to drop her arm until she gave a tiny shake of her head and adjusted her grip so that they were suddenly holding hands. The staring faces of Ginny’s family became an excited chatter.

“I was sure Ron was taking the mickey,” said George conversationally. He cuffed his brother on the shoulder. “Sorry mate.”

“Not to worry; I thought Harry was,” Ron said back. He looked rapidly from Harry to Ginny and then down to their clasped hands. “Are you?” he asked.

“Nope.” Harry shook his head and tightened his grip on Ginny; both of their palms were sweaty, he noted. “We didn’t want to tell you right away because, uhh . . . “

“Because we knew this would happen.” Ginny waved expansively around at her assembled family. “We hoped that by waiting until we got to the ceremony we could avoid the third degree.” She squeezed Harry’s hand and he silently marveled at her ability to invent on the spot.

“Not bloody likely,” said Fred cheerfully as he and Katie walked to join the group. “We were all together for dinner Sunday and neither of you could say anything?” There were mutterings of agreement all around. Harry looked desperately at the other arriving guests, hoping to see Gawain or Kingsley or anyone else who might give him an excuse to slip away for a moment. Him and Ginny, that is; they were a package deal now.

“Or did it happen after then?” asked Hermione practically. Harry jumped on that.

“Yes,” he said quickly. “It did. It happened after that.”

“Ahh, but ‘Arry and Ginny, they left together from dinner, did they not?” Fleur smiled knowingly at both of them. “I think the feelings were already there, non?”

“No,” said Ginny. She shook her head. “I mean, yes?” She looked at Harry, panic written all over her face.

Be an Auror, Harry! He took a deep breath. “It happened right after that, when we went home.” He forced himself to look Fleur in the eye. “That’s why I asked Ginny to walk with me, because I wanted to tell her I . . . I fancied her.” The lie felt heavy and obvious on his tongue.

“And I admitted that I’d been thinking about him too.” Ginny seemed to have found her footing in the conversation just in time. She gave a little shrug. “And then things kind of . . . progressed from there.”

From the left came the flash of a camera and they both flinched. An unfamiliar voice called out. “Harry, how long have you and Ginny Weasley been dating? Do the Harpies know?” A piece of parchment and quill floated in front of them, ready to capture his answer.

“And how about the Aurors? What does Gawain Robards think about this new distraction?” A second quill and parchment joined the first. There was another flash, and suddenly it seemed like every reporter who’d come to cover the Commemoration was considerably more interested in the fact that Harry Potter was holding hands with Ginny Weasley. He turned to her to apologize - for what, he wasn’t sure - just as she leaned in close, which set off another round of photos.

“We don’t have to say anything; let them think we’re being mysterious,” she said, low in his ear. He gave a small nod of agreement.

“Will your family let it go though?” he muttered back. Already he could see the pleasure - bordering on excitement - on Molly’s face. She was just waiting to ask them a thousand questions, he could tell.

“We’ll tell them they’ll get the exclusive details Sunday,” she chuckled. “But they have to keep quiet for now. And smile, we’re supposed to be both happy and embarrassed about this.”

Embarrassed was easy; Harry wasn’t sure how happy he actually looked though. Just as he wondered how much longer they’d have to stand there and playact, the voices around them got suddenly quieter.

Harry looked up to see the Minister of Magic striding towards them. “If I may ask all of you to take your seats up front,” he said calmly, “we’re about ready to begin the program.” He did not look at Harry or Ginny once, or give any indication that he’d noticed the fuss around them.

“Good idea,” said Harry firmly. He realized a moment later that it was a somewhat odd response to a request to sit down. Ginny squeezed his hand again.

And then they were walking to their seats and Harry had to remind himself to match his gait to Ginny’s. There was an entire section reserved for the Weasley family and their various girlfriends, and only when Harry was seated in the front row with Ron on one side and Ginny on the other did he deem it safe to drop her hand. Next to him Ginny gave a small sigh of relief and wiped her hand subtly against the side of her robes.

Normally, the actual ceremony itself would have the nerve-inducing part of the evening. As a rule almost to the point of being cliche, Harry disliked attention, even when much of it showed him in a more-or-less positive light. Not surprisingly, the strongest adoration generally seemed bestowed by people who knew him the least. But right now, being noticed for getting an award felt like almost a relief. He stared straight ahead at the speakers, not daring to look to his left, where he could almost feel the intense curiosity of Ron’s gaze, or to his right, and Ginny. She was sitting as stiffly as he was, and as he stood and clapped at the end of a speech by Professor McGonagall, it felt like the weight of a thousand eyes behind him was pressing into their backs. As they sat down again she shifted her weight casually in his direction.

“How are you so calm?” Her words barely made a sound but even so it took all of Harry’s effort not to startle.

“I’m not,” he responded under his breath, but then silently berated himself. They were supposed to be dating . . . He leaned into her and put his mouth close to her ear. “Just pretend I said something interesting,” he muttered. Off to the right he heard the click of a camera.

“What, like we’d better be prepared to stay at dinner all night Sunday?” she whispered back. There was murmuring of voices behind them and they both straightened up in their seats. Harry was considering whether he should take Ginny’s hand again when Kingsley strode onto the stage, effectively cutting off their whispered conversation.

The tribute to those who had died was first and Harry knew everyone around him was thinking of Remus and Tonks. His mind wandered briefly to Fred too, who’d nearly been killed by a collapsing wall and had needed months of recuperation to repair crushed bones and other injuries. He’d gotten out of St. Mungo’s on a Thursday and, much to his mother’s consternation, been back at Wheezes the next Monday, overseeing things from a floating chair suspended atop several broomsticks lashed together with unicorn hair. After he’d finally been able to walk easily again he and George sold the contraption for over 500 Galleons to a wealthy wizard from the countryside, who wanted it to survey his land. Now the twins were working on an entire line of magical transport.

Those receiving Order of Merlin, Third Class, included nearly all the members of the DA, and when Ginny stood up when Dumbledore called her name someone from the back of the room yelled, “cute girlfriend, Harry!” and a number of cheers broke out. Harry expected Ginny to ignore the cat-calls but to his surprise she giggled and ducked her head before brushing her hand across his shoulder. The cheers grew louder and a beat later Harry understood. But Ginny was standing and he was sitting so there wasn’t much he could do but feel his face flame.

Then Kingsley swept his hand wide and a moment later, every standing witch and wizard was wearing their new medal. It had happened so smoothly that a few people were still cheering the public coupling of Harry and Ginny when it was suddenly time to applaud for the awards. Those awarded Second Class awards stood next - the professors of Hogwarts, members of the Order of the Phoenix, and Neville, who got the loudest cheer of all.

Harry took a deep breath. Only a minute or two more. Stand up, let people clap, sit down. He recalled Ginny’s performance when people cheered her and wondered if he could get away with something similar and make it believable.

But then three robed witches Harry recognized from the Minister’s office walked onto to the stage, each holding a fancy wooden box. Next to him, Ron made an excited sound and with a thrum of dread Harry realized this might be a bigger production than he thought. Indeed, Kingsley caught his eye and there was a hint of apology in it before he began speaking.

Kingsley being Kingsley, the speech wasn’t overly flowery or effusive but still more laudatory than Harry thought he deserved. When the Minister called his and Ron’s and Hermioine’s names and asked them to join him on stage Harry still hoped he’d be home before another hour was over. But then he stood up and the mutters of conversation taking place around the audience turned into a roar of applause and cheer. Ginny gave him a little push on the side of his leg and only then did he realize he’d frozen while Ron, an embarrassed but proud smile on his face, was already halfway to the podium, Hermione’s hand firmly clasped in his.

For a wild moment Harry wondered if he was expected to take Ginny with him. He turned to look at her but she gave him another push and he found himself walking belatedly up to the stage . Once he got there, Kingsley raised his hands for quiet, obviously wanting the moment when Harry, Ron, and Hermione were actually presented with their Orders of Merlin to be at least somewhat solemn and weighty. The crowd didn’t seem to want to stop talking, though, and Harry wished Kingsley would just silence them with magical means instead of waiting in that calm and patient way of his. Ron leaned over.

“If you and Ginny are having sex, I don’t want to know,” he muttered. Unfortunately, Harry was standing just inside the space that had been charmed to project the speeches to the far edges of the Atrium, and the entire assembled audience heard Ron’s comment as clearly as if they’d been standing next to him.

Harry responded on instinct.

“We’re not having sex, Ron.” The words escaped him before he could stop himself. The room exploded. Laughter, yelled comments, flashbulbs. In her seat, Ginny buried her head in her hands and Kingsley, recognizing that he’d lost the situation completely, quickly bestowed the medals and waved the trio off the stage.

“I’m getting out of here,” Harry whispered to Hermione as they walked down the steps. She turned around and gave him an incredulous look.

“You can’t leave before the reception, Harry. People are going to want to congratulate you.” She patted his arm. “No one cares what Ron said.”

Now Harry stared at Hermione. “Are you kidding?” Already people were descending on them in a crush of eager questions and suggestive looks that had nothing to do with congratulating them for their Orders of Merlin. And by the easy way that Hermione slipped away to stand with Ron it was obvious what people were really interested in talking about. He pushed through the crowd until he got to his seat, relieved to find Ginny still there, now standing with most of her family. The harried look on her face told him all he needed to know. He grabbed her arm.

“Do you want to leave?” He didn’t know what he’d do if she said no. But she nodded quickly and took his hand as he weaved through the mass of people. It felt like every single wizard and witch there was yelling his name, and Ginny’s, and the Apparition point had never felt so far away. The last thing he heard before turning them both on the spot was a voice that sounded uncomfortably like Bill Weasley asking if Harry was telling the truth that he and Ginny weren’t having sex.

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Chapter 5: Chapter 5

Author's Notes: Sorry this has taken so long. I do have the next bunch of scenes mapped out so hoping to speed up my writing.


Tropes 4

There was an owl - actually, there were three owls - waiting at the kitchen window of Grimmauld Place when Harry and Ginny arrived, out of breath and staring at each other in horror. Harry jumped to let them in and each promptly dropped its burden on the kitchen table and flew off again. The Evening Prophet, already helpfully opened to the Page Six gossip column, and two magazines, each with SPECIAL EDITION marching across the front. Ginny grabbed one and read the headline.

“Weasley scores off the pitch?” She gaped at Harry. “This is Quidditch Today, not some rag.”

He picked up the other magazine. “LoveMagic is though, and according to it, the question on everyone’s mind is whether ‘my Quaffle has penetrated your hoop.’” He fell into a chair with a groan. “I’m going to kill your brother.”

“I’ll help you,” said Ginny grimly. “Although, did you have to answer him?”

“No,” said Harry shortly. “Not at that moment, at least.” He scrubbed his hand over his face, not sure if he was more upset or embarrassed. Upset won. How was he supposed to protect Ginny if he couldn’t even keep his mind focused enough to keep from blurting out in the middle of a magnification charm? For lack of anything better to do he picked up the newspaper.

“What’s it say?” Ginny began rummaging through the icebox and at first Harry suspected she was trying to show how little she cared about the publicity. But as she began laying out the makings for several large sandwiches as well as the last of the leftovers from last Sunday’s Burrow dinner it occurred to Harry that they’d left the Ministry before either of them had had time to eat.

“Make mine turkey, please,” he said. He flattened out the paper and began reading.

Remembrance, Commemoration . . . and Love?

One has to wonder exactly what it was that Merlin ordered up for the First Commemoration and Remembrance Ceremony at the Ministry this evening. Any fireworks planned for the end of the night will certainly seem dim when compared to the explosion that occurred only minutes after the event began. We don’t even need to credit an “unnamed but reliable source” for this news, not when every witch or wizard of any import personally witnessed the spectacle of one Harry Potter, newly received recipient of the Order of Merlin, First Class, holding hands with star Chaser for the Holyhead Harpies, Ginny Weasley.

Ginny groaned. “I’m not the Harpies’ star Chaser; I haven’t even played a regulation match yet.” She slammed a piece of bread on top of the tower of meat and cheese she’d just made so roughly that the plate wobbled for a moment. “The team’s never going to let me live this down.”

Harry put down the paper. “Are they going to be jealous?” He could imagine plenty of hurt feelings among the players who were far more senior than Ginny and getting much less attention. But she shook her head.

“They know PageSix exaggerates everything; last year they wrote about that fall Kennedy had from her broom and said she was over 300 feet in the air and started dating the bloke who caught her as a thank you. Actually, she was only about 50 feet up and the referee slowed her fall. She started dating the Healer who patched her up, but not until weeks later.” She began making a second sandwich, this one more neatly. “They’re just going to tease me.” She gave him an apologetic look. “And you; it’s kind of a tradition to haze the first bloke - or witch - a Harpy hooks up with after joining the team.” She gave a little shrug. “They aren’t going to know it’s fake.”

“Despite what I said, no one’s going to believe we aren’t sleeping together, are they?” Suddenly, dodging Bill when they escaped the Ministry seemed rather useless. Maybe they should have stayed, faced everyone at once, let them take their photos and ask their questions. Now they’d just have to deal with everything later.

“If that’s your way of suggesting we hop in bed together to make this all more believable I have to respectfully decline,” said Ginny primly. She frowned suddenly and pointed at the fireplace. “What’s that?”

Harry whipped around, wand out, and deftly grabbed the floating scroll of paper out of the air. “It’s from Gawain,” he said, relaxing. Of course it wasn’t anything dangerous; the number of people who could send anything directly to Grimmauld Place was very small. He quickly read the note before crumpling it up and lighting it on fire with the tip of his wand.

Ginny pushed one of the plates of food across the table. “Let me guess, we’re in trouble for leaving early.”

“Worse,” said Harry. “We’ve become even more fascinating by leaving early; Robards wants to know if I’m free to speak to someone from Charms and Hexes tomorrow.” He got up and pulled a bottle of pumpkin juice out of the icebox, frowned at it, and plunked a bottle of Firewhiskey on the table. “That’s a trade publication for magical law enforcement; if they’ve shown interest then we’re really in for it.” As much as he’d fought being held up as the Ministry’s poster boy during Fudge’s and then Scrimgeor’s time in office, this was different. He was an Auror, he respected the Ministry’s leadership now, and they could use all the good press they could get - there were still a number of wizards who thought the Aurors were overfunded and unnecessary now. Not surprisingly, the biggest criticism usually came from those who’d not participated in the War at all.

Ginny had turned the Evening Prophet towards her and was silently reading the rest of the gossip column. “Whoever wrote this liked my dress, at least. Said I ‘clean up nice,’ as if that’s such a surprise.” She pursed her lips and Harry laughed.

“It’s just that everyone’s used to seeing you a mess from Quidditch.” He leaned back in his chair and grinned at her. “Maybe that’s what I’ll tell the interviewer, that I started fancying you when I realize you clean up nice.” He let the chair legs fall back to the ground and picked up his sandwich.

“Prat,” said Ginny. “I’d hex you but unfortunately we are on the same team now. If I put you out of commission then what will I do?” She poured a glass of pumpkin juice and then added a shot of Firewhiskey to top.

“If you hex me in public the magazines will all suspect you’ve become a scorned lover,” said Harry around a mouthful of turkey. “I think that was the theme of one of those romance novels. They’ll all be trying to figure out who I’m shagging instead of you.” He couldn’t say why, but thinking about his and Ginny’s situation as if it was a fictional story made it feel easier somehow. As long as it felt half like a joke he didn’t have to think too much about the realities, since tonight had proved that he was completely incapable of dealing with those right now. He finished his bite of food and poured himself a pumpkin/whiskey drink like Ginny’s. “I’m sorry.”

Ginny looked quizzically at him. “What for? That you’re already talking about shagging another witch?” She waggled her eyebrows at him.

“I can barely fake date you; there’s no way I’m going to be able to manage sleeping with someone else at the same time - real or fake.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and she rolled her eyes conjured a napkin.

“I’d expect my boyfriend to have better manners, you know.” She gave him an open look. “So what are you sorry about?”

Harry sighed. “For rushing us out of the Ministry instead of facing everything head on right away.” The napkin Ginny had conjured had crimson and gold trim on it, he noticed. It was an impressive bit of magic and he said so. She rolled her eyes.

“It’s from the set my mum always adds to the food baskets she sends home with us,” she said. “I didn’t transfigure anything.” She lay her hands flat on the table. “And I was rushing out along with you, so don’t take all the blame yourself.” Her mouth twitched. “I’m at least 20 percent to blame.”

“Prat,” said Harry. “At least it gives us some time to get our story straight. Are you free tomorrow?”

Ginny made a face. “I’ve got practice tomorrow and Sunday in preparation for our first game Tuesday. I’m not even coming to dinner Sunday. Why don’t we just talk now?”

Truthfully, Harry was still feeling a little too rattled about what had happened at the Ministry to think about what else he and Ginny needed to talk about right now. He would much rather they get together in a day or two when he’d had time to think. It felt like more of a homework assignment than a case for the Aurors, and Harry had nearly always procrastinated with those. He focused in on something else Ginny had said.

“Wait, you aren’t coming on Sunday? Why didn’t you tell me before now?” He heard the accusation in his voice and Ginny’s eyes narrowed just slightly.

“It hadn’t come up before now,” she said coolly. “You don’t need me to be there to have dinner at my house, you know. Or do you?”

“Of course not,” said Harry. “Don’t be daft.” The accusation was in his voice again and he forced himself to take a deep breath. “Sorry,” he said after a second. It wouldn’t do for him to start a row; this was Ginny, for fuck’s sake. Although that was likely the problem.

“I don’t know how to be more than your friend,” he admitted. He twisted the napkin in his hand, unsure how they’d moved on so quickly from joking about other witches he might be shagging. Ginny’s face softened.

“Thank you for being honest, at least.” She leaned forward, her face suddenly fierce again. “Promise me that no matter what else happens, we’ll always be honest with each other.”

“Of course,” Harry responded immediately. “You’ll know if I’m not, anyway. Won’t you?” Not that there had been many times he’d ever lied to Ginny; there just hadn’t been a reason before. Not that there would be now either, he reminded himself. “It’ll get easier, the more we do it,” he said bracingly. “Not . . . not lying. Faking it, I mean. Although, I guess that is a kind of lying too? Just not to each other.”

Ginny’s next smile was easier. “I get it, Harry.” She picked up her sandwich again. “I think we’re overthinking things. Maybe we shouldn’t try so hard to plan things out.” She shrugged. “As far as we’ve told everyone, you just recently decided you fancy me and I even more recently agreed to date you. Maybe neither of us know where it’s going, so a little awkwardness is to be expected.” She took a bite of her food and watched him while she chewed.

Harry thought about it for a moment and then nodded. “I guess that makes as much sense as anything.” He couldn’t think of a better idea, at least. He nodded again. “Actually, it makes a lot of sense. I won’t be so worried about messing up our story because we don’t really have a story.”

Now Ginny’s smile was approving. “Exactly.” She leaned in and gave him a piercing look. “I mean, it’s not like you’ve had so much experience dating since Cho, and that was what, three years ago?”

“But it was for almost six months!” he said defensively. “Plus four dates with Aquila Surge from Magical Games and Sports, and one with that Healer whose name I can’t remember.”

“That’s what you get for asking out a witch you met when you were half unconscious,” said Ginny. “And her name was Saorise.”

Harry grimaced. He’d ended up at St. Mungo’s (the first time) only two weeks into Auror training when the thrill of defeating Voldemort had worn off and the need to track down all of the remnants of his evil had become the department’s top priority. Everyone was overtaxed and uptight and treated Harry and Ron basically as fully qualified Aurors, which had nothing to do with the fact that he’d walked right into a Bludgening Hex and been knocked out. He rubbed his temple in remembrance. “I’m not sure the date was even fully over before she ran to Witch Weekly to tell them what I liked to order for dinner,” he said with a trace of bitterness. “At least if I’m dating you I know they’re going to have to work for news.”

“As long as you’re a proper boyfriend, I’ll keep your secrets,” said Ginny lightly. “Otherwise I’m likely to sell the color of your pants to the highest bidder.”

“As long as you don’t offer up the actual item,” he said with a laugh. “People are already going to think we’re shagging; we don’t need to give them more proof.”

Ginny shuddered. “Don’t worry.” She wiped her mouth on her napkin and banished the plate to the sink. “So can I go now? I’m knackered already thinking about the training Gwenog’s going to be putting us through.”

Harry stood up too even though he hadn’t finished his sandwich. “Just to be clear, you told your mum you weren’t coming to dinner Sunday before she knew about . . . us, right?”

Ginny was halfway to the hearth but she stopped and turned, looking truly apologetic. “Maybe you can tell them you’re sick?”

Harry shook his head. “I’m not running away anymore,” he said firmly. “But I wanted to know what to expect.” He paused. “As if I could guess what to expect from your family.” He sighed and handed her the Floo powder. “I’ll send you an owl afterwards to let you know how it went.”

“As long as Bill doesn’t ask again if we’re shagging, you’ll be fine,” said Ginny soothingly. She patted his arm before whirling away in a swirl of flames.

Somehow, Harry doubted that.

Back to index


Chapter 6: It Said What?

Author's Notes: I meant to get this posted ages ago - I'm sorry for the delay!


No less than five other “special edition” magazines arrived at Grimmauld Place over the next two days. One was actually a two-page spread in the center of the Daily Prophet, full of so many photos of him and Ginny that it appeared they’d been at the ceremony for days instead of a little more than an hour. He could tell which ones were taken when they’d arrived versus right before they left because in the first ones they merely looked self-conscious and nervous, but in the later shots Harry could only describe his expression as panicked. He’d almost sent Ginny an owl apologizing again, but decided it would just distract her.

Instead, he spent Saturday and part of Sunday buckled down in his office, working. It had been nearly two weeks since Ginny had received her last letter and they were no closer to figuring out who had sent them. No one believed the sender had lost interest; the effort and magic needed were too complex to be taken lightly.

For what was probably the tenth time, Harry picked up the list Ginny had compiled of every person she could think of whom she might have angered at some point. The names included the extremely unlikely, like Romilda Vane - who’d fancied Dean Thomas around the time Ginny dated him - to the “would have been likely, except dead,” like Bellatrix Lestrange. A lot of Slytherins were on the list; Blaise Zabini had thought Ginny pretty but called her a blood traitor, although seemed to have no other motive, and Marley Flint had hated Ginny ever since Griffyindor had beaten Slytherin in a game where both been Chasers, but she was as stupid as a fencepost. Ginny and Harry both supposed Vincent Crabbe could have blamed her for his best mates’ deaths, but he’d been unconscious in St. Mungo’s ever since a wall fell on him just minutes after he escaped the Fiendfyre he’d set in the Room of Requirement. And there were the Carrows, of course, although wisdom around the office was that both were too impatient for the subtlety of mysterious threats; they’d be much more likely to walk up to Ginny and hex her outright, which was impossible from Azkeban..

Harry ran his eyes down the list again, trying not to think too carefully; maybe something would strike him if he wasn’t trying too hard. Lucius Malfoy was a possibility, but man was a shell of his former self ever since the Final Battle; it just didn’t seem likely he’d put in the effort.

There was a tapping at the window and Harry gave a frustrated huff at the sight of two more owls, each with a magazine-shaped parcel tied to their leg. He took the packages and gave them each a treat before sending them back into the night. The urge to bin the articles outright was strong, but Harry figured he should at least look at what the headlines said; Ginny would.

The first was yet another copy of Quidditch Today; this one’s headline questioned “ What Does The League’s Newest Power Couple Think About the League’s Newest Team?” over a photo he’d seen before of him GInny holding hands as they walked through the Ministry. But this time someone had altered the picture to make it look like Ginny was wearing her Harpies uniform and Harry was holding a banner for the Fulham Firedrakes. He rolled his eyes, imagining what Ginny would say. Fulham wasn’t even officially a part of the Quidditch League yet; they had been approved to play summer games on a provisional agreement and would be assessed for full admission to the League after that. Most of the players came from various semi-professional or recreational Quidditch organizations, so there was plenty of skepticism about the team’s staying power. Likely they had a good publicist though, who’d managed to drum up interest by linking the team to Harry and Ginny.

The other magazine was one Harry had never heard of before. SexQuest, it was called, and he groaned to himself. Likely one of the sleazy weeklies that sat behind magical wards in the apothecaries of Orgasmic Alley, which were less places to buy potion ingredients and more stores that sold fully brewed mixtures, all intended to enhance various bedroom activities. There wasn’t even a headline on the thing, likely because it was so cheap the publisher couldn’t afford to change it for each edition. With a sigh, Harry flipped it open to see just what the more randy members of wizarding society would be reading about him and Ginny.

The first page was blank. And the second. By the third, Harry had encased the thing inside a protective ward, watching as the pages turned on their own accord until stopping right in the middle, where letters scrawled across the page as he watched.

What’s Your Favorite Bedroom Game, Ginny Weasley? Better Warn Your New Boyfriend!

The magazine slammed shut and burst into flames. By the time Harry lifted the ward, it was barely a pile of ashes.

“Fuck,” he muttered, looking involuntarily to the window. Of course the delivery owl was long gone and he struggled to remember what it had even looked like. Instead, he walked over to the fireplace and grabbed the Floo powder.

Gawain and Kingsley met him at the Ministry, but after a discussion they all agreed that further investigation could - and should - wait until Monday. Ginny was safe at the Harpies’ practice field and several more Auror had been sent to keep watch over the facility. Jumping into action by searching the shops of Orgasmic Alley on a Sunday could alert the perpetrator that the Aurors had decided that there was a credible danger as opposed to a prank or more benign threat. Doing that could make him (or her) more cautious and thus harder to catch.

“I’ll send one of our new trainees into the Alley to find out if SexQuest is a real magazine,” said Robards with a grin. “We have a couple who are probably already familiar with the area.”

“You’re going to the Weasleys for dinner, aren’t you?” Kingsley asked Harry. “Let’s keep this latest incident quiet from them at least until we know more.”

Harry huffed. “As if they’re going to want to talk about anything beyond the fact that Ginny and I are dating,” he said. Some of his nerves returned when he thought about it again. It was nearly time to leave for the Burrow; the time Harry had mentally set aside to relax, have a drink, and think about how to act around Ginny’s family had evaporated. He stood up, promising to come to work early in the morning to discuss plans for following up on the magazine.

“Give the Weasleys my regards!” Kingsley’s amused voice followed Harry as he left the Auror office for the Atrium Floo.

******

He’d meant to arrive early at the Burrow in the hopes of getting Molly’s questions out of the way while he still had his wits about him. Because there was no question he was going to lose them - or have them forced out of him - at some point that evening. But the meeting had delayed things just enough that the Floo felt slower than normal - which meant there were several others ahead of him waiting to burst into the Weasley’s kitchen. And that also meant he had to watch more fireplaces spinning past than normal, so that when he finally arrived at the Burrow, he was just queasy enough to know that he’d already let the night get away from him.

Strong hands - at least five or six - propelled him off the floor and into a chair, and another shoved a cup of Firewhiskey at him.

“Drink up, mate; you’re looking rather peaky,” said a cheerful voice. Fred or George, Harry wasn’t sure which one. He put the cup down without taking a sip.

“What time is Ginny finished with practice? I have a basket of food for you to take to her later; I don’t like the meals they give her at the stadium.” A lighter hand touched his shoulder. “You will be going to see her later, won’t you?”

“Umm . . .” For lack of an answer, Harry grabbed up the FIrewhiskey and took a deep pull, silently crossing his fingers that it didn’t contain a truth potion. He swallowed, thinking it tasted normal at least, and gave a small grimace at the burn. “I’m not sure I’m allowed,” he said. “They’ve got their first summer league game on Tuesday and a lot to do before then. I don’t want to uhh, distract her.”

Too late he realized what he’d said; there was more than one shout of laughter in the room and he felt his face grow red.

“Aww, he’s blushing,” someone - - - it sounded like Angelina - - - laughed. Harry flushed again.

“I have to be at work early tomorrow!” he said defensively. There was more laughter.

“Ahh, so you can’t be too knackered either then,” said Fred. “Sounds like you and Ginny are already wearing each other out.”

At least this time, Harry wasn’t the only one who didn’t agree with the comment. Bill smacked his younger brother across the back of his head. “Hey, that’s our baby sister!” he reminded Fred. “Although I’m still waiting for Harry to answer to confirm what he said at the Ministry, that he and Ginny aren’t having sex.”

“Yet,” added George helpfully.

While Harry sputtered and wished he’d somehow figured out how to go to see Ginny practice after all, instead of coming to dinner, salvation in the form of Bill’s wife arrived.

“Do you really want to ask ‘Arry that?” She touched Bill’s arm. “Even if he says no now, there will always be time for ‘yes’ later, and I think you’d rather not know when that is, non?”

“No,” said Bill quickly. “I don’t want to know, as long as you aren’t having it now.” He peered in Harry’s eyes. “You aren’t, right?”

“No,” said Harry quickly, looking down at his cup of whiskey. He didn’t think Bill was really trying to use Legilimency on him, but he didn’t want to take any chances that the man could figure out that not only were Harry and Ginny not having sex, there was no chance of that happening in the future at all. Still, another comment seemed necessary. “We’ve only been d…dating a week.” At least he could be honest about the fact that he wasn’t just with Ginny for sex, or rushing into anything. He sighed to himself, hoping that had been the worst of it. But then Ron spoke up.

“A whole week and you didn’t tell us? I’m your best mate, Harry. And Ginny’s my sister! Don’t you think I . . . I mean we, should have known first?” He gestured at Hermione and she beamed at him.

“After all, you were the first to know about Ron and me,” she said.

Harry threw up his hands. “That’s because the two of you started snogging in the middle of the Final Battle!” he cried indignantly. “When we were supposed to be looking for Horcruxes!”

Ron shrugged. “Ehh, well, you were still the first to know. I’m just saying that you could have at least given me a hint.”

Harry huffed in frustration. He couldn’t exactly say that he hadn’t told anyone because he hadn’t known himself that he’d be dating Ginny until his boss and the Minister of Magic told him to. For a wild moment he considered blurting out that he’d gotten another suspicious package that afternoon, just for a way to get everyone focused on something other than his and Ginny’s love life. He ran his hand through his hair. Not only was the discussion getting out of control, but he suddenly realized he was sounding nothing like a bloke who was thrilled to be dating a girl he fancied.

“It’s just . . . we wanted to keep it quiet,” he said weakly. “Avoid all the press for as long as we could.”

“Well of course you did,” said Mrs. Weasley. She’d been quietly levitating platters of food to the table while her children interrogated Harry, and now gestured everyone to their seats.. “And rightly so, by the looks of things. Why, I think I’ve gotten at least three extra issues of the Daily Prophet gossip column just in the last two days.”

Harry took the excuse and ran with it. “Exactly! Not to mention any number of other magazines. I’m actually supposed to be doing an interview with Charms and Hexes magazine tomorrow morning.” He shook his head. “Charms and Hexes!”

“Really?” Bill leaned forward. “We get that at work; it has a lot of useful information in it.”

Harry nodded vigorously. “Exactly. Why should they care about my love life anyway?”

He wasn’t expecting an answer, especially not one from Percy, but that was who leaned forward from across the table. “It’s because there’s suspicion Ginny put you under a love spell. Or possibly you to her, depending on whose team the writer is on.” He picked up a bowl of peas and calmly began scooping them onto his plate.

Harry nearly spit his pumpkin juice across the table. “A . . . a love potion?” he sputtered. “ I would never . . . we would never. Either of us.” He looked wildly around the table. “Has anyone else heard about a love potion?” His eyes came to rest on Fred and George, who suddenly both seemed extremely interested in their plates of food.

“What did you do, boys?” Arthur’s voice was mild but firm, and the entire table grew quiet.

“Nothing!” protested Fred. “We can’t help it if we already sell a line of love potions.”

“Or if a customer, or two, asked how well they worked,” added George.

“And . . . ?” Again, Mr. Weasley did not need to raise his voice at all. Fred and George both squirmed a bit.

“It was a joke!” Fred burst out. “How was I supposed to know the witch would take me seriously that they worked so well they’d gotten Harry to fall in love with my sister?”

“Or that she wrote for PageSix,” added George.

Harry put his head in his hands.

“Ginny’s going to kill you.” Ron’s voice was smug.

‘Why would she kill me? I had nothing to do with it.” Harry couldn’t help but feel that he should have managed the situation better, but he didn’t know how. He was again considering exactly how much trouble he’d be in at work if he told everyone about the new letter when Ron shook his head.

“Not you, Fred and George. For telling everyone it’s Ginny using the love potion on you and not the other way around.” He snorted. “As if she had to chase you. She’s going to hate that.” He peered at Harry. “Won’t she?”

“Umm, yeah?” Harry hated that it came out as a question. He’d know it was true even if he and Ginny weren’t supposed to be dating. But everything felt so stilted and obviously fake that he didn’t trust himself to say anything at the moment.

“I’ll give you ten Galleons not to tell her,” said Fred.

“I’ll give you twenty if you do,” laughed Bill.

And then all the Weasleys were calling out amounts of money and making side bets about Ginny’s reaction, and Harry just put his head down and focused on eating, hoping that they’d exhaust the topic soon. Wishful thinking, of course.

“What did you mean when you talked about what team the writers of all these articles are on? Their Quidditch team?” Hermione sounded genuinely curious at the answer, which she probably was. But all Harry could think about was how close he’d gotten to changing the subject.

“Not Quidditch teams, I think Percy meant ‘oo people are rooting for, ‘Arry or Ginny.” Fleur looked thoughtful for a moment. “Which doesn’t really make sense, since they are on the same team, non? Neither of you are secretly dating someone else too, are you?”

“Yeah Harry, how’s Cho these days?” Fred clearly wanted everyone to forget about love potions. But talk about secretly dating, even if about a witch Harry hadn’t talked to in months, was yet another topic that felt fraught with danger. He shook his head.

“There’s no one else,” he said quickly. He wished he’d paid a little more attention to all the magazines and gossip columns; it would have helped to know exactly what was being written about him and Ginny. Like apparently what ‘team’ people were on. Against his better judgment he asked the next question. “So people really think she used a love potion? I’m, uhh, the one who asked her out first, remember?” He quickly ran through his memory and then sighed with relief. Yes, that was what they’d told everyone.

Bill shook his head. “The truth isn’t nearly as interesting.” He gave Harry a piercing look. “Except if it’s that you and my baby sister haven’t had sex.”

Harry wanted to fall through the floor; he couldn’t believe they were still on the subject of his and Ginny’s (nonexistent) sex life and moreover, that he was having the conversation in front of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, let alone all of their children. Other than the one who actually deserved to be there, of course. He couldn’t do anything but shake his head. “We haven’t, I swear.”

Fleur put her hand on her husband’s arm. “‘Arry told you that already. And when they do, it’s none of our business, remember?”

Bill looked a little sheepish. “Sorry Harry. It’s just that I’m a little protective of my sister. I don’t care who you sleep with.”

“Unless it’s Ginny,” pointed out Ron. Bill flicked his wand at Ron, who yelped and rubbed his arm.

“Even if it’s Ginny,” said Fleur meaningfully. She looked up and down the table until each of the Weasley’s nodded. Even Arthur started to bob his head and then seemed to realize what he was doing. He quickly picked up his fork.

“Everything is delicious as always, Molly,” he said.

That seemed to finally be the signal that the topic of Harry and Ginny's relationship was finally over. Harry went over the entire discussion in his head and came to the conclusion that he hadn’t bollocksed anything up too badly. He was feeling more relaxed, listening to Bill and Arthur discuss Goblin politics at Gringott’s, when the clock struck nine. Molly jumped out of her seat. “Oh, I need to get Ginny’s basket packed!” She bustled into the kitchen and a number of half-full platters and bowls rose up from the table and followed her. Included in the parade of food was an entire chocolate swiss roll and as soon as a cry of protest went up from those sitting around the table the plate it was on turned around and floated back down to sit in front of Arthur

“Sorry about that; I’ve got cookies in here for her!” called Molly from the kitchen. She poked her head out. “I’m going to put extra warming charms on the food, Harry, since I don’t know exactly when Ginny’s going to be able to eat. Make sure you don’t burn yourself.” She gave him a warm smile. “There’s enough for you both to share tomorrow night too.”

Harry froze, biting back the instinct to answer that he thought he’d already established he wasn’t going to be seeing Ginny that night. He’d sound like a terrible boyfriend if he said so for a second time. He stood up.

“I’d better get going then. If I want to see Ginny tonight.” He took the basket Mrs. Weasley handed him, thinking that he’d need time to send Ginny a message of warning and then wait for her reply, before leaving for the Burrow’s Apparition point. At least it was well known that he didn’t like the Floo; he wasn’t sure where Ginny was at the moment, and it would have again reflected poorly on him as a boyfriend to have to admit that. He’d have to send her a Patronus, he realized. She might be at Harpies’ training facility, their main stadium, her flat, or maybe out with her teammates. No matter where she was, she was probably going to be annoyed he was interrupting. Sighing to himself, Harry sent a brief message with his Stag, asking if he wanted him to bring her food from the Burrow, and then continued walking to the edge of the Burrow’s property, fully intending to go home and wait for Ginny’s response.

To his surprise, her horse appeared less than a minute later. By the tone in Ginny’s voice he knew she must have been with her teammates.

Harry, that’s so sweet of you to bring me dinner! I didn’t think I was going to get to see you tonight, and . . . I missed you. Meet me at my flat, okay? I have ALL KINDS of things to talk to you about; I got the most interesting magazine in the post today and I’d love to show it . . . I mean, tell you about it.

The silvery image faded away and Harry frowned. It hadn’t occurred to him - or Gawain or Kingsley for that matter - that Ginny might have gotten her own mailing; until now there had only been one at a time.. He briefly considered sending the Aurors a message first, but dropped that idea in favor of getting to Ginny’s flat as quickly as possible to make sure she was safe. He glanced back at the Burrow, relieved he hadn’t said anything about getting another threatening letter. He may be keeping Molly and Arthur in the dark but he could still watch out for their daughter. Gripping the basket of food tightly, he turned on the spot.

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