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Category: Post-OotP Characters:Harry/Ginny Genres: Comedy, Drama Warnings: None Story is Complete Rating: PG-13 Reviews: 18 Summary: She figured this was a test: if Harry refused to hex her, then he thought of her as a sister; if he caved and actually decided she could handle herself ... Written pre-HBP. Hitcount: Story Total: 6708 Author's Notes: This story was written before Half-Blood Prince came out. I just kept forgetting to post it here. It was written for the second wave of the HP/GW Fic-a-Fest on LJ and currently doesn’t hold true for canon, but would’ve if I’d posted it sooner. Which is why it’s in “post-OotP” and not “post-HBP.” |
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“You’re acting like Michael Corner, you realize.” “No I’m not.” Ginny rolled her eyes. “Yes, you are, Harry. We’re paired together to duel, and you’re treating me like a porcelain doll.” Harry narrowed his eyes. “I am not like Michael Corner.” “Then throw something at me!” Exasperated, she threw her hands in the air. Harry stared at her a long time, as if weighing the consequences. Ginny glared at him, and at the same time, she tried not to be angry. However, the feeling that she had somehow gained a seventh overprotective brother had been nagging at her for weeks. She figured this was a test: if Harry refused to hex her, then he thought of her as a sister; if he caved and actually decided she could handle herself, then they were friends. Ginny didn’t want to be Harry’s friend … but she wanted to be his sister even less. “It’s not like either of us needs practice,” he answered cautiously. She groaned. “That didn’t stop you from dueling with Neville last year!” She put her hands on her hips. “Do you really think I’m less able to take care of myself than he is?” “It’s not that,” he said in a rush. “It’s just that … you’re special.” “Well, maybe I don’t like being special,” she muttered. Louder, she said, “C’mon, Harry, throw one curse at me. Is that so difficult?” He hesitated. Some unidentifiable emotion flickered across his face. “No …” “Then curse me, damn it!” Looking doubtful but determined, Harry swung his arm up, pointing it at her. “Rictusempra!” Ginny arched her back and leaned to the right. The spell flew past her harmlessly, and she watched it in disbelief as it collided with the wall. “A Tickling Charm?” she asked, stunned. She turned to Harry. “Is that how you expect to beat You-Know-Who, now?” “Ha, ha,” Harry stated. “Very funny.” “It would be,” Ginny said. “Can you see the headlines? ‘Dark Lord Vanquished — After Killing and Torturing for Somewhere Around Twenty Years, He Was Tickled to Death by The Boy Who Lived.’ Hilarious, that would be.” “No need to be sarcastic,” he sighed, a grin upturning the corners of his mouth. “Seriously, though, why can’t you throw one good hex at me?” She tossed her head back and stared at him defiantly. “What, is it that you can’t curse a girl?” “No,” Harry muttered, his eyes focused on her. They seemed darker than usual, and they had a strange emotion in them that made them look more grim and serious. Ginny ignored the strange flutter in her stomach at those eyes. Instead, she raised her eyebrows. “Oh? Let me guess, you’ve cursed your girlfriend.” He looked back at her in confusion. “Huh?” “Cho Chang,” she stated, as if it were obvious. His eyes narrowed, but not with hostility. He looked as if he were contemplating her. “Ex-girlfriend,” he corrected, the expression remaining unchanged. “Same difference,” Ginny sighed. “No, big difference. Unless you still consider Michael Corner to be your boyfriend.” There was an odd feeling in Harry’s voice that Ginny refused to decipher; she’d only end up reading things into it which weren’t there. “That’s different.” “How?” It wasn’t a real question, more of a ‘you’re being hypocritical’, but Ginny answered anyway. “Because,” she said, “Michael and I just kind of … happened. He started talking to me at the Yule Ball, we decided to try dating. It didn’t work.” She stared at Harry with annoyance. “You and Cho, however … you had a crush on her beforehand. You were into her for years, don’t even try to deny it. You don’t just … you don’t get over something that easily.” “You did.” “What?” “Never mind.” Harry turned to the rest of the rest of the DA. “That’s it for today,” he called. Everyone started to file out of the room, some more worse for wear than others. Ron had turned Hermione’s favorite jumper pink, and she’d retaliated by casting a temporary glamour to make him look like Percy. Now that their duel was over, Hermione removed her jumper and looked at it critically for a moment before brusquely pointing her wand and stating, “Finite incantatem.” She gave Ron a quick glance before turning to leave. “Oi!” Ron shouted, going after her. “What about me?!” “Honestly, Ron, it’s a glamour. They don’t even last ten minutes.” “Yeah, well, maybe I don’t want to look like Percy for ten minutes.” They left the room bickering. “In ten minutes, Ron’s going to be too busy snogging Hermione to notice the curse wearing off,” Ginny stated gravely, amusement dancing in her eyes. Harry snorted. “Looks like I’ll be heading back to the common room alone, then.” He started to go. “Oi!” Ginny cried, grabbing his arm and pulling him back. “Where do you think you’re going?” He raised his eyebrows. “To the common room,” he replied. “You know, that place we go when we’re not studying or playing Quidditch?” “You are not leaving this room without giving me at least one good hex,” Ginny reminded him, staring him directly in the eye. Her hand was still clutching his wrist, and she could feel his pulse beneath her fingers. It’s faster than it should be, she thought, but then again, so is mine. “But … but …” Harry stammered. His eyes were focused on her lips, and he was breathing heavily. It’s your imagination, Ginny told herself. Only your imagination … “One curse,” she said. Her voice sounded funny, even to herself. Lower. Breathier. He nodded mutely. Ginny waited. Harry stared. “You have to use your wand to curse me,” she advised. “Huh? Oh! Yeah,” he said, lifting his wand and staring at it as if he’d never seen it before. His gaze shifted to her. “Any curse,” she said. “Pick the first one that pops into your head.” Still staring at her, Harry raised his wand and muttered "Furnunculus" under his breath. Recognizing the curse, Ginny quickly dodged. “You aim needs work,” she teased as it passed, hitting the Foe Glass behind her. Apparently, Foe Glass reflected spells. Ginny didn’t notice this. Harry, however, did. “Watch out!” he shouted, lunging forward to move her out of the spell’s path. They hit the floor with a thump, Harry landing on top and knocking the wind out of Ginny. The spell collided with the wall, creating a horrible moldy spot where the paint used to be. Harry didn’t notice this. He wasn’t staring at the wall at all. Eyes wide, he was staring at Ginny; he was noticing how close the two of them were, watching her chest heave as she struggled to catch her breath, looking into her eyes (which looked nearly as round as his.) He could see himself reflected in them; he could also see Ginny’s shock, her surprise, and her nervousness from being so close to him. Part of Harry wanted to get up and bolt before he did something incredibly stupid, but a stronger part of him wanted to stay more than anything. That part of him seized control of his hand and used it to run his fingers through her hair slowly … and God, what gorgeous hair. Long and straight, and yet untamed, like a lioness. It was bright and vibrant like fire, but softer than velvet. Almost reluctantly, his eyes shifted back to her face. “Ginny …” her murmured, looking into those gorgeous brown eyes. She was shaking, but her eyes held his. She opened her mouth to speak, but Harry’s last shred of control was falling away and his lips moved to cover hers. He kissed her hungrily, like a starving man who’d just stumbled across a feast. He turned onto his side, pulling him with her. Her arms wrapped around his waist and she moaned into his mouth, kissing him as fervently as he was kissing her. Her hands moved up to his hair, combing her fingers through it. One of his hands was holding her face close to his, the other hand caressed her shoulder, then made its way down her side, tracing her hip, and resting on her thigh. Ginny pulled him closer, kissing him eagerly. She pushed him gently to the ground and swung her leg around so she was straddling him, and pulled back a bit. Her hair was like a curtain around him. Her eyes gazed into his, disbelieving, until she leaned forward again and kissed him, softer this time. She leaned back at him, staring. “One thing’s for sure, Harry,” she said. “You sure passed that test.” He raised an eyebrow questioningly. She simply laughed, and stood up. “Need help?” she asked, offering her hand. He took it, a pulled himself to his feet. “Reckon we should get back to the common room,” he stated. “I guess so,” Ginny replied, still grinning. “Hey, do you think Ron and Hermione are done yet?” “Knowing them? Not nearly.” “Do you think we have time for a game of Quidditch?” “We would,” Harry said, “but that’s assuming I’ll be able to keep my hands off of you. There’s something about fighting with girls … that’s why Ron and Hermione always need to find the nearest broom closet after they argue, you realize.” Ginny pulled back and glared, amusement dancing in her eyes behind her mask of annoyance. “Is that why you refused to duel with me?” “Maybe.” “Well why didn’t you say so? It would have saved a lot of time.” “I dunno, I kind of like the way things worked out …” he said, grinning. Laughing, the two made their way to the Quidditch pitch, hand in hand. END |
| Reviews 18 |
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