Summary: *** The author has been reminded via the e-mail address on file that this story is listed as incomplete and has not been updated since 2005 ***
This is the continuation of the promise that Ginny made Harry in the grass. He has fulfilled his side of the bargain, and now he has to wait for her to fulfill hers. The story will mostly be in the form of owls back and forth with occasional narrative. Sequel to Run Away, but you don’t really need to read that first. Fluff, fluff, fluff and more fluff! Cause Voldemort can’t stop the fluff!
Rating: PG-13
Categories: Post-OotP
Characters: None
Genres: None
Warnings: None
Challenges: None
Series: None
Published: 2005.05.15
Updated: 2005.06.11
Index
Chapter 1: Chapter One
Chapter 2: Chapter Two
Chapter 3: Chapter Three
Chapter 4: Chapter Four
Chapter 5: Chapter Five
Chapter 1: Chapter One
A/N: More sugarcoated, icing-glazed, cotton-candy-sticky-sweet, pure unadulterated Harry/Ginny FLUFF! No offense to authors of angst, tragedy or drama, because I have read your stories and I love many of them. BUT, this story is *guaranteed* NOT to contain any of the following: 1. Secret babies hidden from their fathers for years 2. Rouge Death Eater attacks 3. Kidnappings 4. Devastating fights caused by unwarranted jealousy, or 5. Draco in leather pants. Because…. Haven’t Harry and Ginny been through enough already????Chapter One:
Dear Ginny,
I miss you. You have been gone for 23 hours and I miss you. If I clear my mind and concentrate, when I lean back on the garden wall I can feel your head on my shoulder and your fingers in between mine. Feel free to tell ol’ Snape that the Occlumency lessons are finally paying off! Okay, maybe don’t tell him that, but I hope I made you smile. Thanks for giving me a reason to smile, Love.
Okay, I’m back. I got a little distracted thinking about all the ways that you make me smile. And yes I mean that smile, the one that makes you purse your lips and glare at me when your mother is in the room. I won’t write what it makes you do when your mum isn’t in the room. Merlin forbid that Hedwig decides to make a few extra galleons on the side by selling the love letters of The Boy Who Lived to Witch Weekly! She just nipped me! I think that she can read.
And on the Witch Weekly note, the modified Fidelius Charm is… well, working like a charm! Okay, bad joke, I know. Did you just roll your eyes at me? You know I love your eyes. Oh sorry, as I was saying, another reporter showed up yesterday, just as soon as your mum got back from King’s Cross. I was sitting at the table and your mum opened the door because Hermione was supposed to be Apparating over (more on that later). Anyway, the reporter was peering into the house--- looking straight at me! She kept asking your mum if she knew “the whereabouts of our hero.” Okay, I am rolling my eyes now. Your mum said she hadn’t seen me since the Ministry ceremony last month. It was bloody brilliant! Especially since you mum had just been having tea and biscuits with me two minutes before. Your mum can lie as well as you can, Love. It reminded me of that dungbomb incident at #12. (The first one.) I want to thank you for not using your powers for evil. Thanks for always being honest with me, even the times I didn’t want to hear it. That is when I needed you most.
Okay back to Hermione’s visit. Have I ever told you that Hermione scares me? Bride-to-be Hermione is even more frightening than I’ve-written-out-your-study-schedules Hermione! She has gotten the okay from McGonagall. So that means that I get to have you in my arms for the whole night on Halloween. Hermione is a force of nature. I am surprised that she even let McGonagall “think about it.” I think that Hermione just wanted to make sure that there weren’t any unwanted reporters or gatecrashers. So now Hogwarts is not only the safest place to keep priceless elixir of life producing stones or scar headed reckless teenage boys, it is also the safest place in the Wizarding World to get married. I suggested a vault at Gringott’s to Hermione and Ron. Ron got an elbow to the ribs right in the middle of his “good one, mate,” and I got the business end of a little vine wood and dragon heartstring. Don’t worry, Love, Hermione’s Bat Bogey is still nothing compared to yours. I didn’t tell Hermione that at the moment, though. I didn’t think that it was in my best interest. Are you going to go crazy when we get married? I don’t mind if you do, Love, I just need to know if I should be practicing up on my Protego.
Oh, and you may have noticed that Hedwig is in disguise. I changed her feathers to brown so that she could deliver our mail incognito. I was going to transfigure her into a duck, but she seemed a bit put off by that idea, so we just stuck with the color change.
I miss you love. When is the first Hogsmeade weekend? I think that I can brave the Rita Skeeters of the world if it means I get to spend the day with you. Ask McGonagall if I can walk up to the castle to get you, or if I need to wait for you down by the gates. If she purses her lips, you could remind her that I am the one that made the Wizarding World safe again. Just teasing, love. I can’t wait to see you.
The Boy Who Loves You,
Harry
P.S. Did you find your present?
*********
Dearest Harry,
Oh, I found my present; your favorite (well my favorite) black t-shirt, under my pillow, unlaundered! I didn’t realize that I would miss the way you smell. Especially that night that we played Ravenclaw in the rain, it was like grass, the air after lightning and the leather of your Quidditch gear. Oh, I miss you, too. I would be giving you your favorite look right now, you know the one that says “come here, I want to snog you till we can’t stand up and then fall on something soft and snog some more” so just think about that for a minute. I know I will. Oh, if that isn’t your favorite look let me know, I just remember that you tend to react well to that look.
Anyway, I decided to take a trip down to the kitchens, (Thanks again for your dad’s map, it is rather handy) and I spoke to our favorite Hogwarts employee. This was the response that I got, Mr. Potter: “Dobby doesn’t have to keep his master’s secrets but, Dobby is keeping his friend’s secrets, Miss Wheezy”. So, I see you have found a very willing accomplice. Anything for Harry Potter! I suppose that being the girlfriend of the Boy Who Lived does have its perks. They loaded me down with more food than I could carry. I was leaving a trail of pumpkin pasties all the way back up to Gryffindor Tower! Just don’t tell Hermione that you have house elves practically waiting on me hand and foot. Four years of S.P.E.W. lectures was enough!
The Snape comment did make me smile; and I don’t think that I will be mentioning that to him over a steaming cauldron any time soon! I think that may be number one on his list of things that he really doesn’t want to know. I think that you broke his heart when you survived, Harry. Even I can’t torture him any more than that. Although a wicked Bat Bogey directly after graduation is sounding rather appealing, and that is just after one class! Did that make you smile? Cause I like your smile. Did I mention that I miss the way that you taste? Mmm. Tea with milk and sugar and mum’s chocolate biscuits.
I am sorry that Hermione hit you with that sub par hex, dearest. She seems to be pretty frazzled from the sound of her letters. Even Pig looks like he has had a double dose of Pepper Up Potion when he delivers her letters. I think that he circled the milk jug at breakfast about 10 times this morning before (now brown owl) Hedwig blocked him on a pass and sent him straight into my toast. I think that the marmalade slowed him down a bit. I gave her some of my bacon and told her that she should try out for Keeper. She seemed a little huffy with Pig, but she gave me a sweet little nip before she took off for the Owlery. Thank you for asking her to wait for my reply. I would hate to have to send a school owl with our top-secret post. I don’t want anybody else to know what you taste like, especially not the readership of Witch Weekly.
McGonagall made an announcement at the feast that no one is to ask me where you are. Colin Creevey says “hi” though. (I know you are rolling your eyes at that! You have such pretty eyes, Dearest.) But I promised him that I would. And I always keep my promises. Have you decided where we are running away to in June?
Hogsmeade is in two weeks, but if you haven’t already heard, and I am sure that you have by now, Hermione wants us to get fitted for our dress robes for the wedding that Saturday. Her mum and dad are coming too, so you know that my dad won’t pass up the opportunity to get some quality Muggle time in. I have a feeling that it will be a family affair. So much for sneaking off to the Shrieking Shack to snog! At least I will get to see you and hold your hand, see you smile. You know, with all the mum chatter that will be going on in Madame Malkin’s they might never hear it if you were to happen to Apparate into my dressing room.
I think that I will leave you with that thought, my dearest green-eyed boy. Just close your pretty eyes, clear your mind, focus and put those Occlumency lessons to work. And remember, I love you.
The Girl Who Loves You Back
Ginny
P.S. Did you find your present?
Chapter 2: Chapter Two
Chapter Two:Dearest Beautiful Wonderful Ginny,
First off, I would like to thank you for gift wrapping my present. The thought of Dobby’s bare hands on your knickers might have scarred me for life! And I really don’t need that again!
My dreams were rather nice last night, Love. It has been a long time since I looked forward to going to sleep, or dreaming. It’s not so bad now. Most nights you are there in my dreams. The nightmares don’t happen every night now. I think that Dream Ginny is slowly kicking Nightmare Voldemort’s arse. He has no idea who he is up against! Dream Ginny is nice, but I miss you. I miss the way that your hands make mine feel big, the three freckles that are in a straight line on your right cheek, the way that you sing out loud to the Wizarding Wireless when you think that you are alone in the kitchen (you do a lovely job on that Weird Sisters number), and the way that look of yours (and yes it is one of my favorites, so far) makes me feel like I am starving and you are the only thing in the world that will fill me up. Are you smiling yet, sweet Ginevra? Are you nibbling on your lip? Just the thought of it is driving me mad.
Two weeks is too long, Love. If I go completely round the twist, will you come visit me in St. Mungo’s? Will you teach me joined up writing? Just don’t bring me any potted plants!
How are your classes, Love? You know, you are brilliant, that is one more of the reasons that I love you. I know that you will do well, and as much as I miss you, I am glad that you are finishing school. Of course, if you were to pull a Fred and George tomorrow and show up here, I won’t care one bit. Just teasing, Love. I think that your mother might make me care more than a little bit. And, no, I haven’t decided where we should run away to in June. I figured that we can talk about it over Christmas hols, between snogging sessions, of course.
Speaking of snogging session, exactly how big are the fitting rooms at Madame Malkin’s? Cause at this point that is sounding pretty good. I miss your mouth and the way that you taste. Like pumpkin juice and sugar quills. And, no, I don’t want anyone else to ever know that either.
I got another letter from the MoM today asking if I would consider going into Auror training. You know, Ginny, I really think that I have achieved all I can in the Defense Against the Dark Arts area. After this next year is over, I know that I will want to do something, but I really want to have a career where I can actually get better at what I do. I mean after getting rid of Voldemort is there really anywhere to go but down in the Defense arena?
Soooo, I was thinking. How would you like to be the wife of the Boy Who Lived turned Professional Quidditch Star? Do you think that I could make it in the leagues? I mean really after marrying you there will only be one goal that I haven’t accomplished. And as I am sure Ron would tell you, I am better than that slimy git Krum any day! Okay, Ron may be a little biased on that one. Did Hermione tell you that Krum is coming to the wedding? I almost fell out of my chair! I think that Ron is actually looking forward to Krum being there so he can rub his face in the fact that Hermione is marrying him over a World Cup Seeker.
Speaking of which, how is the Gryffindor team shaping up my dear sweet captain? Are you channeling Oliver Wood yet? You never played for him, but I am sure that Fred and George told you stories! Are you staying at Chaser or moving back over to Seeker now that I am gone?
It is so strange not being at Hogwarts now. I know that things aren’t the same anyway, but I still miss it. Not the Dark Lord trying to kill me on a regular basis part, but pretty much everything else. I miss the Quidditch, even practices. I miss how quiet the castle was at night. I miss finding you asleep in a chair in the common room. I love the way your hair and skin look in the firelight. I miss a lot, but mostly you.
I love you. You are my reason.
The Currently Unemployed Boy Who Loves You
Harry
P.S. Hermione wants a copy of my best man’s toast by the time we go for the fitting. I think that she can’t stand that I have no homework to do!
My Dearest Unemployed Boyfriend,
Hello, Love. I hope that you are having a lovely day lounging around as I am slaving away like a (dare I say it?) House Elf! I don’t know if you realize this, but even without the threat of impending death and destruction N.E.W.T. year is HARD! I seriously entertained the idea of getting a Quick Quotes Quill to write your letters, but then I realized that I would have to talk out loud to it and I doubt that the whole common room or the rest of the seventh year girls really want to hear my love sick ramblings. So you should be very appreciative of my efforts to keep my hand moving at this point! In other words, don’t tell anyone else how long your letters are because theirs are getting really short right now.
Being Quidditch captain is almost a welcome distraction. I am staying at Chaser. We are trying out new prospectives this Saturday. As next Saturday, I plan on being otherwise engaged with a handsome dark haired boy in a dressing room at Madam Malkin’s. Don’t tell my boyfriend; he might get jealous.
Oh, and next to being my boyfriend and vanquishing evil dark lords with misguided fantasies of world domination, I think Seeking is your greatest talent. I would say that you could pick your team Mr. Thanks-to-me-you-are-all-still-alive Potter. If you wanted to continue acting out of your generous nature, you could try to get on with the Canons. It would almost be like donating your talents to a charitable cause. And you could possibly work out a deal to make Ron your slave for life as a side benefit. Of course, I think that Hermione beat you to that one.
I can’t believe that she is making you write out your toast! I want before and after copies. I want to see what her corrections are. Oh, and if you can sneak the same of Ron’s vows I would have enough ammunition for a life time of sibling taunting. Ah, the power! Sorry, was entertaining my own evil fantasies there for a second.
Not the type of fantasies that you would like me to be entertaining? Did I actually hear you think that, or is it just that I know you too well? Hmmm, well, I will redirect my thoughts then. Oh, now this is better. Wouldn’t you like to know? How bout I show you one of these days?
Maybe you could just dream about it. I am afraid that dreams will have to do for now. You are in my dreams, too. Do I really taste like pumpkin juice and sugar quills? I miss your kisses. I wish that you were here. I am so tired from all this work, and all I want to do is sleep. But I wish that I could be in you arms while I did. We could curl up in your favorite chair in the common room and just stare into the fire until we fell asleep. Last night, when I came in from the library, that was the first place that I looked. It will take awhile, I think, before my mind stops looking for you. There are just too many places here that it thinks that you are supposed to be. It is almost like I feel lost for a second when I walk into the Great Hall for meals. A part of me says that you are supposed to be there saving me a seat. Oh, Harry I think that my heart is hurting. Can you check on it? Because it happens to be with you right now, and it always will be. I need to sleep love. At least I can be with you in my dreams.
I love you more than anything. You are my everything.
The Girl Who is Going Mad Missing the Boy Who Lived
Ginny
Ginny,
That’s it. I am not the “Greatest Wizard of this Generation” for nothing. The map will show you which knot to push on the Whomping Willow. Use a long branch or a brave first year. I will meet you in the Shrieking Shack after lunch on Sunday.
Love you,
Harry
Harry,
I love you. I’ll be there by one o’clock.
Yours only and always,
Ginny
Chapter 3: Chapter Three
Chapter Three:Harry Apparated to the Shrieking Shack about an hour and a half before Ginny was due to arrive. He hoped that she would not have any problems getting past the Whomping Willow. Sniggered to himself, Harry thought about the possible result if she had used his suggestion of a “brave first year.” He began Scourgifying every surface in sight. There were years of dust on the torn chairs and broken tables that littered the small rooms of the shack. Harry wanted to make the place as presentable as possible for Ginny. He knew that her N.E.W.T. year was hard on her even though she had only been through the first week. He had had so many distractions during his seventh year he was amazed that he had gotten the N.E.W.T.’s that he did. It was probably the force of nature that was Hermione that had kept him on task. He realized, looking back that Hermione was doing the only thing that she knew to help him keep his mind off of the “impending doom” as he, Ron and Hermione had termed it.
Harry looked around the shack; it had been awhile since he had been here. There was no need to use the shack when he had been at Hogwart’s; there had been an overabundance of broom cupboards and empty corridors. So it hadn’t been necessary, and it had been dangerous for him to leave the grounds. But here he was, trying to make the place that had harbored the changing of Lupin respectably clean, a place that was fit for his Ginny. She was his reason: the reason that he had decided to press on. Ginny was one of the reasons that made him choose the “right” choice, not the easy one. She was his best reason; his most dear reason. She was his future, he thought as he repaired the broken legs on a chair. He looked at the bed and waved his wand to reattach one of the legs. He smirked. There was no way that he would get to use that piece of furniture; at least not how he really wanted to. Ginny had been adamant about the reasons that they couldn’t. It had nothing to do with her love for him, and everything to do with her Weasley-ness. Ginny had told him that the inherent Weasley fertility was not to be trifled with, and Harry had respected and in all actuality feared it. There was no way that Harry would compromise Ginny before she was finished with school.
That had not stopped his dreams though. They kept going, always beyond where real life had stopped. And Harry reveled in those dreams. And from what Ginny had written in her letters, so did she. He stopped mid-spell and smiled. There was nothing that he wanted more that to share that with Ginny. He did desire that deep and total physical connection with her. It filled his dreams and shower fantasies. He wanted more than anything to take her and show her how completely he loved her. But he wanted her to come to him, without fear and without any reservation. Harry shook his head and continued his work: making at least one room fit for Ginny to sit in. She would be here in half an hour. He could almost taste her pumpkin-sugar kisses.
********
Ginny had forced herself to stay in the library and finish her Advanced Charms essay before she went down to the Great Hall for lunch. She blotted the last few lines and rolled up the several feet of parchment before stuffing it into her bag. With that done she could reasonably take the afternoon off and finish the two chapters she had to read for Advanced Potions after supper. She thought that it was odd, but without Harry here, she was actually able to be more disciplined in her studies. She smiled as she headed out of the library. It was easier to focus now that the threat of Voldemort and his minions hanging over their heads was gone, and Ginny wasn’t dropping everything to steal precious moments alone with her possibly doomed boyfriend.
Their moments now might still be stolen and guarded viciously, but the desperation was of a different nature. It was desperation to get to the future, not stave it off as long as wizardingly possible. That future Ginny thought of often. It was wide open, full of promise and full of Harry; a Harry that was free to be hers and only hers. His obligation to the Wizarding World had been fulfilled, even if the press and the Ministry didn’t seem to think so. Ginny smirked sarcastically as she thought of the incessant barrage of reporters that Harry now had to fend off. They weren’t as dangerous as Death Eaters, but they were possibly more annoying. She entered the Great Hall, and headed for the Gryffindor table. No, Harry still wasn’t there, but he was waiting for her in the Shrieking Shack.
Ginny walked past the group of first years and eyed them appraisingly, laughing on the inside as she did. A couple of the braver ones eyed her back and then they fell to their usual whispering. Ginny had gotten used to this type of reaction from the younger years. It was, after all, a well known fact that she was the girlfriend of the Twice-Famous Harry Potter. She was oddly thankful for Luna and her detached nature. Luna treated Ginny the same as she always had. It was a comfort. There was always Colin as well, who though he still seemed to idolize Harry a bit, had known them all long enough to tone it down to a mere friendly admiration.
Ginny ate quickly, not as quickly as Ron always did; her mother had tried to make Ginny into a lady from the start. She declined Colin’s offer of a game of Wizard’s Chess after lunch and told him that she wanted to take a walk and get some time alone. Well, time alone with her boyfriend, but she neglected to add that. Ginny took a long drink of pumpkin juice and got up from the table, forcing herself not to run from the Great Hall. Her deliberately measured steps carried her down the center aisle and then down toward the dungeon.
As the painting swung open, a House Elf arm held out a picnic basket, which Ginny took hurriedly. She turned and again focused on slowing her breathing and her steps as she made her way out onto the grounds. Getting away from the range of prying eyes, Ginny pulled out the map. It was rather amusing when she thought back on its story. Of course, no one knew exactly who Filch had confiscated it from to begin with, but Ginny thought to herself that Moony, Padfoot and Prongs would be proud to know that it had fallen into the hands of another Weasley; who was now using it to have a secret rendezvous with one of the said Marauders’ son. We do owe them so much; her thoughts mirrored those of her brothers when they had given Harry the map. She tapped the wand and proclaimed the now time honored oath. She nearly laughed out loud when she saw a small figured labeled “Future Mrs. Potter” appear walking toward the Whomping Willow. Ginny was going to have to have a chat with Harry and Remus about that one. Smiling, she noticed another figure appear “Hedwig” and looked up as the owl swooped down from the sky and straight to the trunk of the tree in front of her. Hedwig settled, neatly avoiding a couple of half-hearted slaps from the tree, on a large knot on the trunk. The tree froze and Ginny scrambled down the passage, after a cursory glance to make sure that no one had followed her.
Hands full, Ginny nearly tumbled down the steep entrance of the passage as she attempted to balance picnic basket, map and rucksack. Luckily for her, there was some one at the bottom to catch her.
Chapter 4: Chapter Four
Chapter Four:The passage way was pitch black, but Ginny was not in the least afraid when she felt the wiry but strong arms wrap around her and keep her from tumbling face first to the ground. She landed with an “umph” squarely in the chest of the owner of those arms and felt him take a small step backwards from the force of their collision. She had dropped the picnic basket, and the map was being crumpled between her and her rescuer.
She breathed in deeply, and smelled…home. It was the same smell her own robes held as she first took them out of her trunk when she arrived at school. It was the smell of her mum’s laundry soap, biscuits baking, bacon frying, grass and just home. And underneath that smell was Harry: like the summer breeze after rain, soapy clean but still so male.
It was an instant revelation, the lightning quick memory trigger of smell, the immediate recognition of Harry and home. Her head tilted upward and his mouth came down on hers. She dropped everything else. She needed both hands for this: to touch him, to feel him solid in front of her. And she needed to hold on.
Harry was kissing her desperately, as if he could devour her. If he kissed her hard enough, long enough, deep enough, she thought, he would be able to feed on her soul. So Ginny opened herself up and gave him what he needed: her. She let him ravish her mouth, and she tasted tea with milk and chocolate biscuits.
They had kissed often: sometimes soft and sweet, sometimes playful and teasing, and sometimes urgent and passionate. But there had only been one kiss they had shared that was anything like this in their history. It was the first one they had shared after it was all over. Then Ginny felt he needed her just to stay alive and she had poured all of her love back into his soul. He was starving then and she was the only thing that could feed him.
But this kiss was slightly different. Ginny noticed it in his hands as well as his mouth. There was no bitter taste of smoke and blood, just sweetness. There was no fear, pain or sorrow in his embrace. There was no thought ricocheting around her mind screaming “Prove to me you are alive, prove to yourself you are alive, prove to me that I am alive!” No, this time it was different. She felt his hunger and she felt his need and she returned them. But this time she felt the joy and promise. It was as if her mind would explode with true happiness, not just bare and raw belief.
She kissed him back with everything in her. She kissed him back with all the longing for days to come of quiet peace, nights to come of play and passion, and the deep abiding knowledge that the smell of home would never be enough unless under it was the smell of Harry. She kissed him deeply as if to know every edge of his teeth, every ridge of his mouth, every soft curve of his tongue against hers. Ginny was memorizing every tiny bit of this small piece of her new home.
They pulled away from each other after what seemed forever and never enough, and Ginny fumbled for her wand. She lit it wanting to see his beautiful face. He was straightening his glasses and his lips looked almost bruised from their greeting.
~~~~~~~
“Oh,” He pulled on a mock look of surprise he knew was thoroughly given away by the hunger still in his eyes, “Ginny, I thought you were someone else.” He winked one green eye.
“Well, Harry, Love,” Ginny pointed her wand directly at his nose, and gave him that smile, “would you like to see how a real Bat Bogey Hex is done?” She cocked her eyebrow and he was at her again, glasses be damned! He couldn’t stop kissing her. He never wanted to stop kissing her, and he was achingly aware that that was not all he wanted to do to her. The sound of crunching parchment and Ginny’s gasp finally broke them apart.
“Oh, good, we didn’t tear it.” Ginny picked up the map and commented breathlessly, as she smoothed it out. “And, I have a little question for you Mr. Potter.” She opened the map and pointed the lit end of her want to the spot on the parchment that showed the passage beneath the Whomping Willow. There were two tiny figures facing each other labeled “Mr. Potter” and “Future Mrs. Potter.”
“Blimey!” Harry gasped, “How did you do that?” He looked up at Ginny and was surprised to see her accusing look.
“I didn’t do that! You know I didn’t, Potter!” He bit back a chuckle, her cheeks were flushed and she always used his last name when he was in trouble. He was tempted to kiss her again, but decided against it.
“No, honest Ginny, I didn’t do it.” He put the best serious face on that he could, laid his hand down on the map and stated solemnly, “I solemnly swear on the memory of Padfoot and Prongs I didn’t.”
“Really?” She eyed him suspiciously in the low light of her wand.
“Really.” Harry was going to have to send an owl to Lupin about this one. A lovely last prank for the Marauders, he thought to himself.
“Alright, I believe you.” With a still wary glance at the map, Ginny leaned down and picked up her dropped picnic basket. “Come on then. Let’s go on up.” Harry took her rucksack and slung it over his shoulder and tucked the map into the pocket of his robes so he would have a hand free to hold Ginny’s.
They made their way up the passage to the Shrieking Shack speaking of Quidditch. Ginny told Harry about the tryouts, and the new team members. She started in on the new training schedule and all the workouts that she would need to do to get her new team into shape. Harry shook his head, maybe it wasn’t just Oliver Wood, he thought, maybe there was a curse or a hex on the Gryffindor captaincy. He told her that he still wanted to wait awhile to re-enter the public eye, but when he did he thought that the professional Quidditch leagues might be where he wanted to reappear. Their conversation was simple and easy, full of the everyday. There was no talk of the dark and evil days that they had survived, only the bright and carefree ones to come.
No one missed Ginny that afternoon, all her friends just assuming that she was somewhere about the castle that they were not. And Molly just peered over at the latest hand on her wonderful clock, on occasion throughout the afternoon; just glad to see that it had not once in three months landed on “mortal peril.”
A/N: The letters will be back next chapter....coming soon!
Chapter 5: Chapter Five
Chapter Five:Dearest Future Mrs. Potter,
Hello, Love. Well your mum has not received any owls from Hogwarts, so I am assuming that you didn’t get caught sneaking out of the castle to have a secret rendezvous with your boyfriend. Lucky man, he is! Of course it was probably one of the few times that a parent actually knew that a student was sneaking out of the castle before the student did. I am amazed that she didn’t think that we needed a chaperone. Either she trusts us or she is already picking out names for our first child. Should I ask her if she has any suggestions? Or do you think that would just get me a rolling pin to the head? Just teasing, Love. I don’t want your mum to die of shock, I rather like her and she feeds me so well.
I forgot to thank you for bringing me lunch yesterday. I am glad that you know me well enough to realize that I had been too excited to stop and eat before I came. Tell Dobby thank you for me, he did a wonderful job on that treacle tart. I am going to ask your mum if she can knit him an official Weasley jumper. He will be in raptures don’t you think?
It really was a perfect afternoon. Well, aside from the dust and boarded up windows. I like the thought of you lying in my arms on a Sunday afternoon. Can we do that always, well after you get finished with school anyway? You fit so perfectly there. It seems only right that you be there on a regular basis.
Oh, got an owl back from Moony re: our name changes on the map. It seems that Sirius tweaked the magic on the map to take the mickey out of my dad because he fancied my mum. Mooney guesses that the spell just transferred over to us when I realized how I felt about you. I mean I know that we aren’t “officially engaged” and all, but I was hoping that at this stage that was more of a formality. It is, isn’t it? Cause I can’t imagine my life with anyone else but you, Ginevra. I want to spend all my Sunday afternoons with you, and every other day possible. (Oh, nights too, best not think on that too long, I am at the kitchen table and your mum is by the stove.) Four and a half days until I get to see you again.
One thing I missed going to the Shrieking Shack with you was the way that the sun looks in your hair. I love the way you look in the sun. Your hair is blazing, like you are on fire, but never burning out. It reminds me of Fawkes. Not just the way that you look, but the way that you make me feel; like my heart will swell to bursting. Can we get married in the afternoon sun? That is how I want to see you forever in my mind when I think back on the day you married me: a fire that will never die and my heart full to bursting.
Speaking of weddings, I have enclosed my first draft of the best man’s toast, well the one that I gave to Hermione anyway. (Insert Fred and George type laughter here.) That poor girl really is mad. I know that it has got to be hard trying to sort out a wizarding wedding when half the people on the guest list are Muggles, but still. I would have thought that Ron would be taking this a bit harder, but he says as long as she still lets him go on the honeymoon, he will put up with anything. I suppose I can’t blame him there. He has been doing his best to help with the details, but I have decided that I will only be following direct orders from the bride-to-be. I figure I have less chance of getting in trouble that way. Speaking of trouble, tell me again about those dressing rooms at Madame Malkin’s.
The Boy Who Wants to Marry You,
Harry
Dear Future Mr. Weasley-Potter.
Sir, I am a busy woman. I do not have time to indulge in fantasies about snogging my boyfriend/intended husband in the dressing rooms of robe makers, but hey, I make time! (Did I get one over on you there??) History of Magic is rather handy for one thing at least, and breakfast and lunch and dinner (Colin and Dennis say hi again by the way, go ahead roll those beautiful green eyes of yours). Where was I? Oh, yes and when I am laying in bed at night, as I fall asleep. Are you sure you aren’t using all that Occlumency/Legimency training to put all these lovely and deliciously wicked thoughts into my mind?? Well if you are, don’t stop.
Thanks so much for not trying to kill my mum. I rather like her as well, most of the time. Although, I quite imagine that she is itching to see if I can’t produce at least one granddaughter for her to spoil. Ask her what she thinks of Lily for a girl. No don’t! I like your face the way it is. (Yes scar and all, boys with scars are sexy you know.) And tell Moony thanks so much. I guess it is true what they say: old Marauders never die, they just keep haunting pieces of parchment in hopes of torturing the next generation. No offense to our dear Padfoot and Prongs, love. I am sure that they would be very proud of the fact that you have decided to marry such a lovely and talented witch. (Even if you haven’t officially asked her yet.)
As for that toast that you wrote, that was very sweet, sincere and touching. Now send me the real one! And please do include the Polyjuice incident, because if Snape is in attendance I think that it would be lovely to see him fume about not being able to retroactively deduct house points!! Speaking of those who are a bit sorry you made it through, I ducked into the second floor loo yesterday. I think that Myrtle has finally come to terms with the fact that you are going to live a long and happy life. She told me that she has her eye on a rather reckless third year.
Quidditch is going well, since you asked! I think that I may get this team into shape before the first game after all. I don’t know about the House Cup, though. That may just be too much to ask of a rookie year Keeper and Seeker. But, I want to leave them in the shape to win next year if I can’t manage the House Cup this year. Of course, throwing Quidditch on top of NEWT’s is maddening. I can not believe that you did so much last year. You truly are amazing, Love. Oh and don’t blush at that because you are. Not so much in a Boy-Who-Lived kind of way, more in a my-Harry kind of way.
Hmmmm, yes I think that I should be able to clear all my Sunday afternoons for you dear. There is no better way to spend them. I know that you love the way that I fit into your arms, but I need to say something. Thank you, Harry. Thank you for letting me hold you some of the time. Thank you for allowing me in, all those times that you finally let down your guard and let me comfort you. Thank you for seeing my strength, and feeling safe enough to lean on me once in awhile. Thank you for never treating me like the witch behind the wizard. I have always know that you wanted me beside you, not behind you. That is why ‘we’ work Harry, because it is ‘we.’ Thank you for that.
Oh, Love, I am getting sleepy. Damn, Snape and his Potions essays! I am afraid that I must leave your letter and get to my dreams of you. I hope that you are dreaming of me. Cause you really should be asleep at this hour. No self-respecting unemployed wizard would be up this late!
The Girl Who Would Say Yes (if you ever actually asked her)
Ginny
P.S. Please do not ever mention my brother on his honeymoon again; one of us being scarred for life is definitely enough!
P.P.S. We may need to put a Silencing Charm on that mirror in the dressing room. They tend to be rather chatty.