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SIYE Time:15:01 on 30th July 2021


Three Fights for Harry and Ginny
By iluvfanfics

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Category: Alternate Universe, Post-HBP
Characters:Harry/Ginny, Harry/Ginny
Genres: Comedy, Drama, Fluff, General, Humor, Romance
Warnings: Sexual Situations
Story is Complete
Rating: R
Reviews: 38
Summary: Harry had five well-used speeches he gave himself on a regular basis; three of them were for dealing with Ginny. Just a fluffy one-shot for fun!
Hitcount: Story Total: 36427
Awards: View Trophy Room


Disclaimer: Harry Potter Publishing Rights © J.K.R. Note the opinions in this story are my own and in no way represent the owners of this site. This story subject to copyright law under transformative use. No compensation is made for this work.





ChapterPrinter


Ginny Weasley tried not to laugh when the reason she was scrubbing floors in the Great Hall joined her in detention.

It was only fair that he suffer too–he had started the whole mess. But she was glad he was there. It was less boring this way.

Harry was still rubbing his sore jaw, even as he kneeled next to the bucket three feet away. “Bloody hell, Ginny,” he swore. “Did you have to punch me?”

“Did you have to kiss me?”

Harry glared at her. She bit the insides of her cheeks to keep from laughing. He looked so righteous, kneeling there with a scrub brush in his hand.

“There is nothing wrong with kissing you,” he ground out. “It’s what boyfriends and girlfriends do.”

“Not secret girlfriends and boyfriends, and not in plain sight like that anyway,” she pointed out. “I heard voices coming down the corridor. Did you want them to find us like that?”

“So you punched me? Couldn’t you have…I don’t know…walked away?”

Ginny lifted one shoulder and returned to scrubbing. “More realistic this way.”

“What’s realistic is that you started this whole thing.”

It was her turn to glare. “I did not.”

“Yes, you did.”

“You kissed me first!”

“You had your hands down my trousers.”

“Only after you put them there!”

“Still, you started it,” said Harry stubbornly.

Ginny straightened up to her knees and crossed her arms over her chest. “And how did I do that?”

Harry did not fail to notice the steely gleam in Ginny’s eyes. It usually signaled the beginning of a knockdown, drag-out fight between them. They would shout for several minutes, moving closer and closer until they fell onto each other as if they’d been starving. He felt a familiar stirring in his trousers. Damn. These arguments always ended the same and so now, he usually had an erection as soon as they began.

He straightened up and puffed out his chest, determined to win at least one argument with her. “You know how you started it,” he hissed at her.

Ginny just raised an eyebrow at him as if to say, “go on, I’m listening.”

“I saw you flirting with him, Ginny,” he warned her. “Tonight at dinner."

Ginny’s brow wrinkled as she struggled to recall what had happened at dinner. Everything was a blur right up until Harry had pulled her away from her friends and dragged her to a darkened corridor where he’d proceeded to show her exactly why she put up with this ridiculous secret relationship.

“Seamus,” he said in hard voice. “I saw you talking to him.”

“So?”

“So you were flirting!” he exploded. His voice echoed in the cavernous room.

“Sshh!” she said. “Do you want people to hear?”

He had the sense to feel abashed. But he was still angry with her. He’d watched as she laughed at everything Seamus said; big hearty laughs with wide, bright smiles she usually saved for him.

Her eyes narrowed. “I was NOT flirting with Seamus Finnegan. He was telling me a very funny story about his younger brother who is in my year and in case you haven’t noticed, he is very happily dating Lavender Brown. Merlin Harry, she was sitting right next to him–do you think I would flirt with someone whose girlfriend was right there?”

Harry didn’t know how to answer this. Part of him wanted to ask her if that meant she would flirt with someone whose girlfriend wasn’t sitting next to him, but he suspected this would not be the best tactical move on his part.

“Besides,” Ginny said abruptly. “Why would I need to flirt with anyone when I have you?”

He could feel himself weakening.

“And anyway,” she continued ruthlessly, “if it looked like I was flirting even a little bit, I would think you would be happy, considering this whole ‘keeping our relationship a secret’ thing was YOUR idea.”

And they were back.

Harry felt himself swelling with indignation. “Well, thanks for bringing that up,” he spat out, “I am so anxious to have this discussion for the forty-seven-hundredth time.”

She huffed and went back to her scrubbing. He glared at her back for a few moments, trying not to notice how her hips swayed enticingly with her movements before he went back to his own scrubbing.

Harry had five well-used speeches he gave himself on a regular basis; three of them were for dealing with Ginny. After he’d broken up with her at Dumbledore’s funeral in an effort to protect her, he’d avoided her like the plague until he left for the Dursleys where he’d spent a good deal of time forcing himself to NOT write a pathetically pleading letter begging her to take him back.

After he’d arrived at the Burrow with Ron and Hermione for Bill’s wedding, they tried to stay in their neutral corners, but soon they were fighting and ten minutes after that they were engaged in some intense snogging the likes of which had not been seen since the whole Ron-Lavender fiasco in his sixth year. Over the rest of the summer she had worn him down with her drugging kisses, seeking hands and arching hips. Soon he was agreeing to return to Hogwarts for his seventh year in exchange for Professor McGonagall’s promise that he could leave school occasionally to finish the job Dumbledore had left for him.

Shortly before school had begun, he’d found himself begging her to take him back, but only in secret. It was the only way left that he could think of still to protect her. He needed her, couldn’t live without her–but he was convinced that if people knew, she would be more of a target than she already was. She’d yelled and screamed at him and they’d fought for hours about it, but in the end, she’d agreed. It had taken some heavy persuasion on his part and he hadn’t been afraid to use her physical reaction to him against her.

Their physical reactions to each other were exactly what got them into this mess in the first place. Things got out of hand whenever they were together. Even now, when his jaw was aching because she’d punched him and they were scrubbing floors in the Great Hall, he was painfully hard just thinking about being inside of her again.

Ginny smirked to herself. She wasn’t totally oblivious to the Boy-Who-Lived’s reaction to her every time they fought. He’d confessed to her once it was the way her eyes looked and the way her hair seemed to have a mind of its own when she got angry that usually pushed him over the edge. He probably shouldn’t have told her that–it only made her find reasons to start arguments with him. The fact that she got her own jollies from seeing Harry all wound up hadn’t escaped her notice either.

“I’m sorry I hurt you,” she said suddenly.

“But not sorry you punched me?” he asked icily.

“Is there a difference?”

Harry kept scrubbing tiles. “You know there is.”

“Fine then, I’m sorry I punched you.”

Harry was silent for another moment. “I’m sorry I was jealous. I…I just miss you so damn much.”

“I’m right here, Harry,” she said softly.

He shook his head. “Not all the time. Not every day. Not sitting next to me in the Great Hall, or walking around the lake or going into Hogsmeade. We’re lucky if we get to spend a few hours together a week.”

“That’s not my fault,” she said sharply.

Harry shut his eyes. She was not bringing this up again, was she? Every time they fought, she threw what he had asked her to do back in his face. It was getting tiresome.

“This argument is getting old.”

“But it always ends so well,” she said suggestively. She looked up and smiled that brilliant smile at him that she knew always made him forget why he was irritated with her in the first place.

“Witch,” he said softly, his eyes meeting hers.

“Over-protective git.”

He reached out and grabbed her by the ankle, yanking her towards him. She shrieked, her squeals bouncing off the walls of the Great Hall as he pulled her through the soapy water until she was lying breathless beneath him.

“Do you always use brute force to get what you want?” she asked, her brown eyes shining up at him.

“You’re one to talk about brute force,” he scoffed. He lowered his weight onto her, pinning her to the cold floor.

She rang her fingers tenderly over his jaw. “Does it hurt an awful lot?”

“It hurts like hell.” He decided there was no sense in being macho about it. Macho men probably didn’t have secret girlfriends who punched them.

She slid her hand to the back of his neck and lifted her head to press feather-light kisses on the bruise that was forming on his jaw. “Does this help?” she murmured as she pressed her lips over and over again along his jaw line.

“It helps a little,” he said in a strangled voice.

Ginny spread her legs so he was nestled in the cradle of her thighs. She tightened her legs and used her well-developed thigh muscles to roll them over so that she was straddling him. Grinning, she ground against him and smirked when his hips jerked against her.

“That hurts too,” he groaned.

“Well, I can definitely heal that for you,” she said. She leaned down and captured his mouth with her lips. She kissed him thoroughly, her tongue forcing its way into his mouth and stroking over and over again until he forgot that he was lying on the floor of the Great Hall in a pool of water.

Eventually he came to his senses and pushed her away, his hands on her shoulders. “Don’t start what we can’t finish,” he panted. “We’re in detention remember?”

She sighed and looked at how much floor they had left to scrub. Her forehead dropped to his shoulder. “Punching you seems to be like less and less of a good idea.”

******
All of Gryffindor Tower jumped when a simmering, practically boiling, Harry Potter slammed the portrait door behind him as he entered the common room. This year’s Head Boy was trembling with rage, accidental magic sparking from his fingertips.

He refused to look at anyone and marched over to the stairs, taking the steps two at a time as he rushed up them. Instead of continuing up boy’s side, however, he turned towards the girl’s side. As soon as he touched the first step, a loud alarm sounded and the steps turned into a slide. He cursed, rather eloquently, and several first years gasped.

He looked back at the common room, his jaw working furiously. Most of Gryffindor Tower was frozen in mid-movement, staring back at him. They’d been in the middle of celebrating the Gryffindor win over Ravenclaw at the day’s Quidditch match when Harry had burst through the door–effectively ceasing all conversation.

Summoning up her Gryffindor courage, Hermione broke out from the crowd and stepped forward cautiously.

“Harry?” she said tentatively. “What’s wrong?”

Harry’s blazing eyes fixed on Hermione. He was still sweaty and in his Quidditch robes. He’d disappeared somewhere after the match but it obviously hadn’t been to the locker rooms.

“Where is she, Hermione?” The words came spitting out as if he couldn’t stop grinding his teeth enough to speak normally.

Hermione swallowed. She’d never been scared of Harry before but the look on his face right now would probably frighten braver wizards than she. “Um…she’s in her room. But you know you can’t go up there.”

Onlookers cringed, waiting for the outburst they were sure would follow this statement.

“Then will you please go up there and ask her to come down here,” he asked in a dangerously quiet voice.”

“S…s…sure, Harry.” Hermione moved quickly to the stairwell leading to the girl’s dorm. As soon as her foot touched the slide, it turned back into stairs and she rushed up them. Harry waited at the foot of the steps, one foot tapping impatiently. He ignored his housemates who were watching in avid interest. They’d all seen what happened at the match today but only a few of them could guess why Harry was so upset about it.

Seamus and Dean did the only sensible thing and quietly started a betting pool to guess what would happen when Harry finally tracked Ginny down. Ginny Weasley’s temper was famous in Gryffindor tower; but then, so was Harry’s.

Hermione soon appeared and walked slowly down the steps towards Harry. “She…um…won’t come down. She’s says she’s not coming out of her room until you calm down.”

Harry inhaled sharply. Nostrils flaring as he breathed heavily, he moved around Hermione to stand at the foot of the steps. “GINNY WEASLEY!” he shouted. “GET YOUR ARSE DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW!”

There was silence. The tower collectively held its breath, waiting for the fiery redhead to respond.

“GINNY!” Harry shouted again. “YOU KNOW I COULD GET PAST THESE STEPS IF I WANTED TO! DON’T MAKE ME COME UP THERE!”

Ron suddenly found this situation very amusing. A snicker escaped and he clapped a hand over his mouth. “I can’t help it,” he whispered to Hermione who had shot him a dirty look. “He sounds so much like my mum.”

“I AM GOING TO COUNT TO THREE AND IF YOU-“ Harry stopped when Ginny appeared at the top of the steps. Her face was flushed and she was bristling with anger. She had a black eye and her right arm was in a sling.

“What...is...wrong...with...yo u?” she hissed at him. “You’re shouting like an idiot. Stop acting like an arse.”

Several people gasped, and more money exchanged hands.

“If you had come down when I asked, I wouldn’t have had to yell,” Harry growled at her.

“If you weren’t acting like a gigantic caveman then I would have come down earlier,” she shot back. “What are you bellowing about now anyway?” She walked down the steps and stood in front of him, her face defiant.

Harry’s eyes narrowed until they were slits of green fire. “I want to talk about your behavior at the match today. What did you think you were playing at?”

Ginny scoffed. “Playing at? I was saving your arse, Potter.”

Several of their housemates upped their bets. Ginny calling anyone by his or her last name was NEVER good.

Harry cursed again and ran an agitated hand through his hair. Those watching realised he was trying to reign in what little control he had left on his temper.

“It’s Quidditch,” she said in a steely voice. “That’s the way the game is played–you protect the Seeker so he can get the Snitch. I was just doing my job.”

Harry’s control snapped as he grabbed her by the upper arms and lifted her up into the air until she was face-level with him. “You could have been killed!” he shouted, shaking her a little. “That Bludger could have hit you in the head and you would have been dead! Or you could have been flying too high and hit the ground harder then you did!”

“But I wasn’t killed and I didn’t die so you can just calm down already!” she shouted back.

“No! Not until you get it through your thick skull that you could have died! I can’t always be there to protect you!”

“I get that you are hurting my arm you big oaf,” she said, squirming in his grip. “Let me go!”

He set her down hard and she stumbled, putting a hand out to catch herself on the wall. “Stop manhandling me!” she glared at him. “And I don’t need you to protect me all the time!”

He advanced towards her and forced her to back into the wall. He put a hand on either side of her head and leaned in.

“I didn’t break up with you and then sneak around behind everyone’s back just so you can get yourself killed in a Quidditch match! You shouldn’t have flown in front of me!”

“I was trying to protect you!” she yelled back at him. Her face was red and her hands were clenched into tiny fists.

“Well stop it!” he bellowed at her. “I protect you–that’s the way this works! I protect you and you stay safe! I don’t need you to protect me!”

A loud smack echoed in the common room as Ginny slapped Harry across the face. His head whipped to the side from the force of her blow and he stayed, dazed for a few seconds, before his head pivoted back to face her.

“How dare you,” she said in a hard but shaky voice. “We protect each other. If you don’t believe that then where in the hell are we going with this? What the hell are you doing with me Harry! If you think I’m the type of person who can sit back and let someone they love get hurt without trying to help!”

Those who knew Ginny and Harry suspected that this argument was no longer just about the Quidditch match where Ginny had taken a Bludger for Harry, allowing him to catch the snitch and win the match. This argument was actually about something else. But since only two of them knew that Harry and Ginny were still dating, everyone else was very confused.

“Harry, mate,” Ron stepped forward bravely and interrupted the staring contest they were engaged in. “Why don’t you guys take this elsewhere. Let us get back to the party, yeah?”

“No,” Ginny said. She pushed Harry away with a firm one-handed shove to his chest. “I’m not going anywhere with him.” She reached into her blouse and pulled out something attached to a chain around her neck. She tore the chain off and threw it at Harry.

“Take it,” she spat at him. “And don’t give it back until you’re ready to accept who and what I am, Potter. I am not your little woman and I won’t be shoved into the closet while you save the world. Not anymore.” She turned and fled up the stairs, her red hair streaming behind her.

Harry stayed, clasping whatever she’d thrown at him against his chest. He lifted his hand and looked at it and then back at the steps she’d just run up.

“Oh HELL no.”

He grabbed onto the side rail and when the steps turned into a slide, he used it to pull himself up the stairs. Alarms sounded but he kept going. He struggled to the top and made it to the doorway to her dorm just after she’d locked it. He whipped out his wand and pointed it at the lock.

“Alohamora!” The lock sprang open and he slammed the door open, only to find Ginny on the other side, her wand inches from his nose.

”Don’t come any closer,” she said menacingly.

Harry held his hands up. “Put the wand down,” he snapped. “We need to talk about this. You can’t just give me back the ring and run off like that!”

Ginny’s shoulders slumped and her wand arm fell. She suddenly looked very tired. “What do you want from me, Harry? What else could we possibly have to talk about?”

“I want you to put the ring back on,” he said.

Ginny shook her head and walked over to what he assumed was her bed. “I can’t do that,” she said. She sat on the edge of the bed. “This,” she gestured between them, “isn’t working anymore. I’m tired of hiding, tired of sneaking around, tired of pretending like it doesn’t bother me.”

“You agreed-“

“I know what I agreed to,” she said sharply. “And I’m sorry. I thought I could live with it. I thought, as long as I knew you wanted me, that it would be enough. But it doesn’t feel like that anymore.”

Harry tried not to jump to conclusions about what she was saying. If he stayed calm then perhaps his heart would not shatter onto the floor and break into a million pieces. He resisted the urge to rub an area of his chest that was starting to ache.

“What,” he cleared his throat, “what does it feel like?”

She looked at him, a hard, blazing look on her face. It was familiar. Normally that look would have had his trousers tightening but there was a sadness on her face that he’d rarely seen before.

“It feels like we are letting him win,” she said fiercely. “Before you’ve even begun to fight him!”

Harry looked down at the ring in his hand. It was gold with an emerald stone. It had been his mother’s and he’d made a special, secretive trip into Diagon Alley to get it from Gringotts. He never wanted to see it anywhere else except on Ginny’s finger. He swallowed.

”Ginny, I-“

“Harry, do you love me?” she asked bluntly.

He looked up at her. “You know I do. I love you beyond anything I’ve ever known before. I never even knew what love was until I met you.”

“Then how can you ask me to be something that I’m not? I am not the type of person who stays behind, Harry. Or have you forgotten that? I’m not the type of witch who hides away while her man fights.” She hopped off the bed and walked towards him.

“The only person I could ever be is the one who loves you enough to stand beside you. To help you, to protect you, to die for you if I have too. I can’t be that person if you won’t let me, Harry. And whether or not you want to admit it, you could never be with someone who is less than that.”

“I don’t want you to die,” he said hoarsely. “Not for me.”

“But I would,” she said, softly. “And there is nothing you can do to change that. This isn’t about me wanting revenge on Voldemort or you needing someone to come home to. This is about you and me and why we love each other. We’re good together because we’re equals, because we’re right for each other–in all the ways that matter. Because we understand things about each other that no one else can.”

“Ginny, you can’t die. I won’t let you,” he said this firmly, as if he could control what would happen in the coming months.

“Okay,” she agreed. “As long as I get to stop you from getting killed too.”

Harry sighed. He should have known he wasn’t going to win this argument the moment she’d come down those stairs. The truth was, he was tired of the sneaking around. He just wanted to be with Ginny. And she had a point about letting Voldemort win if they couldn’t find some happiness now.

“Fine,” he said, closing his eyes. A part of him was relieved they would be able to be open about their relationship. Another part of him felt like he’d just signed her death warrant. “But if you get killed don’t come crying to me. I’ll be too angry to talk to you.”

Ginny smiled and stepped closer to side her arm around his waist. “It’s a deal.”

He hugged her close, wrapping his arms around her and resting his chin on the top of her head. They stood for a moment and Harry enjoyed the way she fit in his arms–the way she always fit in his arms.

He fumbled with the chain behind her back and used his wand, which he was still grasping in his hand, to mumble a quick repairing charm. He leaned back and slipped the chain over her head, pleased to see it back around her neck.

“Thanks,” she said softly.

He looked down at her. His fingers came up to trace the edge of the bruise around her eye. “I’m sorry you got hurt today.”

She shrugged. “S’okay. Pomfrey fixed my arm, I just have to wear the sling to make sure it doesn’t get moved around a lot.”

“Does that mean we don’t get to have make-up sex?” He looked at her hopefully. “’Cause now that I’ve calmed down, I remember that you looked really hot when you appeared at the top of those stairs.”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “I guess it was pretty hot when you pressed me against that wall. Though it didn’t feel like that at the time.”

“Oh yeah?” Harry smirked and forced her to walk backwards until her shoulders hit the wall next to her bed. He reached down and lifted her legs up to wrap around his waist and pressed his body against her, effectively pinning her to the wall. “How’s this then?”

Ginny wrapped her good arm around his neck and propped the bad one up on his shoulder. “Do you think it’s odd that we can go from fighting to fucking in less than ten minutes?”

“Nah. We’re just really passionate people,” he told her. “And don’t say that word. It’s not good enough for what we do together.”

“You sound like Hermione when she tells Ron not to use bad language.”

Harry winced. “Okay, instant mood-killer. Please don’t mention practically-family members when I’m about to ravish you.”

“Sorry.”

Several minutes later, when the shouting had finally stopped upstairs, Hermione decided she’d better go and check to make sure her two best friends hadn’t actually killed each other. Ron looked a little nervous when she’d told him her plans but didn’t try to stop her.

She paused outside the door to Ginny’s room and pressed her ear against it. The yelling had stopped but there were some definite strange noises going on. Perhaps Ginny was strangling Harry. She knocked softly and opened the door slowly, trying to avoid a wayward hex, if in fact hexes were being thrown.

“Ginny? Harry? Are you guys…OH MY GOSH!” Hermione shrieked and covered her eyes, fumbling behind her for the doorknob. “Please tell me I didn’t just see Harry’s butt, please tell me I didn’t just see Harry’s butt,” she chanted over and over to herself, praying it wasn’t true.

She peeked through her fingers, gave another squeak and shut her eyes again. Yep, that was Harry’s butt and if she wasn’t mistaken, it had been attached to Harry who seemed to be quite attached to Ginny who was, if appearances were true, was flushed and sweaty against the wall of her dorm room.

“Hermione, get out!” Harry roared at her, over his shoulder.

“Sorry! Sorry! I’m so sorry!” Hermione stumbled over her words and her feet as she found the doorknob and quickly shut the door behind her. Oh. My. Goodness.

“Hermione! Are you all right?”

Ron was shouting at her from the bottom of the stairs. She could barely register the panic in his voice. All she could think about was clenching and thrusting and Harry and Ginny…oh good Merlin, she was never going to be able to get this awful image out of her head.

The door to Ginny’s room opened and Harry stepped out, blushing furiously. His Quidditch robes were pulled on haphazardly, his hair messier than usual. Ginny followed him out, dressed in a pale yellow robe. Surprisingly, she was not blushing. Rather, she was smirking, her eyes twinkling at Harry and Hermione’s obvious embarrassment.

“I’ll see you later,” Harry mumbled, kissing Ginny quickly on the lips. “I’ve got to go shower.”

“Harry,” Hermione said weakly. “I’m so-“

“Let’s just forget about it,” he said quickly. He ran down the stairs as if he couldn’t stand to be there a second longer.

“Hermione! Harry? What’s going on?”

“I’m fine Ron!” she called back. “Just saw… um…a spider. No big deal.”

“Bloody hell.”

Hermione looked at Ginny, mortification on her face. “Ginny, I’m so sorry. I never dreamed…well, I swear I didn’t mean…oh bloody hell, I give up.” She slunk down the wall and sat with her head resting on her knees. She didn’t think she’d ever be able to walk back into the sixth-year girl’s dorm rooms again.

“Hermione, you cursed!”

“Well, you would to if you just saw your two best friends…and Harry’s….oh, I can’t even say it.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “Saying it makes it real and I just want to forget about the whole thing.”

Ginny laughed. “Well, I don’t think any lasting harm has been done. Although you may have cured Harry of ever shagging me in my dorm room again. From now on we’re probably going to have to do it in a Gringott’s vault.”

“Well, just be sure to lock the door,” Hermione grumbled.

“Sorry ‘bout that. We were a bit caught up.”

“How on earth can you guys be fighting one minute and doing that the next?”

Ginny raised an eyebrow at her. “Hermione, you and Ron fight all the time. You’re telling me that isn’t some sort of foreplay?”

Hermione looked at Ginny like she was crazy. “Foreplay? Ron and I don’t-“

“You’re telling me that it’s not the least bit exciting for you?”

“You’re crazy,” Hermione said plainly.

“Maybe,” Ginny conceded. “But there’s just something about Harry worked up into a temper…” she shivered. “I mean, did you see him when I came to the top of the stairs?”

“Yeah,” said Hermione in disbelief. “He looked terrifying.”

“Really? I thought he looked incredibly sexy. I mean did you see his eyes? Intense.”

“So, you weren’t really upset at all?”

Ginny considered the question. “I was very upset and so was he. But that’s how we work, you know? We get really mad and frustrated with each other, shout really loud, get it all out and it works itself out somehow. Sometimes we say things we don’t mean and sometimes we say exactly what we mean but were afraid to talk about it. So there’s a lot of honesty and forgiveness going on. But we accept that about each other. Harry’s good for me because he isn’t afraid to stand up to me and I’m good for him because I force him to face things. I get him angry enough to shout out his feelings,” she sighed. “Sometimes it’s the only way to get him to talk things out.”

She shrugged. “But it’s okay because once the fighting is over we realise how much we love each other and then we shag like rabbits. It’s great.”

Hermione shook her head. “I don’t get it but if it works for you guys then have at it. Just so long as I don’t have to see that last part ever again.”

Ginny smiled at her. “Well, both are very cathartic. You should try them sometime.”

******
“GINNY WEASLEY!”

The shout ran throughout the tower one Saturday afternoon and the housemates present groaned, recognizing the familiar bellow of their Head Boy.

A small, redheaded blur came dashing down the stairs from the boys' dorms. She was laughing and running from the Head Boy who, due to his longer arms, managed to snag her just as she hit the girls' stairs.

He spun her around and grabbed her by the arms in an iron-like grip. “Okay, now you are going to tell me why the sixth-year boys are in their underwear and scrubbing the boys' bathrooms with their toothbrushes.”

“Why do you assume I had anything to do with that? I was just an innocent bystander.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed. “I KNOW you had something to do with it. That spectacle up there has Ginny Weasley written all over it. You’re the only one I know who would go the extra step to have the thing witnessed by a bunch of giggling girls.”

“Okay fine,” she said, giving up. “They lost a bet. S’not my fault they’re bad at Muggle poker.”

Harry took a deep breath and let go of her arms, crossing his own over his chest and widening his stance. He looked like a military officer who was questioning a witness.

“Muggle poker is usually played with money or plastic chips. And why in the world were you playing poker?”

“For our Muggle studies class,” she told him. “And Colin is muggle-born so he was teaching us. I can’t help it if they’re bad players.”

“Ginny,” Harry said through his clenched teeth. “You can’t make them scrub the bathrooms with their toothbrushes and in their underwear!”

“Why not? They lost the game fair and square!”

“There are a bunch of girls up there giggling and laughing at them! Romilda Vane is taking pictures for Merlin’s sake! Make it stop! Call off the bet!”

Ginny lifted her chin. “I won’t and you can’t make me. I beat them with a royal flush–do you know what a good hand that is? Anyway, you’re the Head Boy. YOU make them stop.”

“I tried. They won’t,” he ground out. “Something about their honor as wizards.”

“I don’t know why you’re so upset anyway. You’re going to get a clean bathroom out of it,” she pointed out.

“But Ginny,” Harry had a pained expression on his face, “why the underwear and the audience? Couldn’t you have stopped with the toothbrushes? Did you have to humiliate them?”

“Yes,” she answered in a matter-of-fact voice. “They forced me into when they told me that a witch doesn’t know anything about card games. They said it was a man’s game and girls weren’t tough enough to bluff or some other rubbish like that.”

Harry eyed her thoughtfully. “They said that did they?”

“Yes.” She stepped a little closer to her boyfriend and looked at him up with half-lidded eyes. “I simply had to teach them a lesson.”

Those watching could tell that Harry was trying not to grin at Ginny. The corners of his mouth were twitching and his shoulders were trembling as if he was trying not to shake with laughter.

“I guess they deserved it then,” he finally conceded. “But no more crazy bets okay?”

”Sure Harry,” she smiled at him in such a way that clearly meant “no more crazy bets that you find out about.”

She stepped closer and slid her arms around his waist. “You were very authoritative just now. Kind of attractive.”

Harry raised his eyebrows. “Yeah?” he said in a significantly lowered voice.

They were speaking too low for those in the common room to hear but everyone watching saw Ginny stand up on her tiptoes and whisper something in Harry’s ear. He made a strangled noise and clenched her shoulders before stepping back and grabbing her hand. They ran up the stairs towards the boy’s dorm, Ginny’s giggles echoing in the stairwell.

“Great,” said Dean. He slumped back into his chair and threw his quill down on the table in disgust. “I was just about to go and take a nap.”



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