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Wherever I go | ||||
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Category: Alternate Universe Characters:None Genres: None Warnings: None Rating: PG-13 Reviews: 5 Summary: Sometimes it's the things you can't fight that are the scariest. Hitcount: Story Total: 2108 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. |
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Harry stepped back and surveyed his work with a rueful grin. Hermione would be absolutely appalled at his packing skills. Even after almost a year living on the run, his bags looked like his trunks has always looked ever since his first year at Hogwarts - horribly chaotic and possibly, a bit dangerous. Luckily they weren’t bothering with a big send-off, so he’d be spared at least one lecture. “You almost ready, love?” He questioned, dropping a kiss on Ginny’s temple. She flashed a quick smile up at him and turned back to her bag, trying to decide between 2 pairs of shoes that Harry, truthfully, couldn’t tell apart from one another. “Yeah, just about. Can you go grab my carryall from the toilet? I need to find room for it somewhere in here.” She motioned with a grumpy frown to her bulging bag. “You know we’re not staying forever, right? Just a month. And there are wash facilities.” He teased her with a grin. Ginny swatted at him with a dress she had handy and motioned again towards the bathroom. “Ok, ok!” Harry relented, laughing and holding his hands up in defense. His voice floated out of the open doorway. “Are you sure you packed all of your potions?” Ginny sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, holding in her temper. She just knew he’d been waiting to ask that. “Harry. Stop mothering me. I’ve got it under control.” He popped his head out around the door way. “I take it that’s a yes, then?” At her glare and pointed glance towards her wand, he subsided. “Alright, fine.” “We’re taking this trip to forget about it for a while, right? So just… forget about it.” She grabbed her bag off the bed and dragged it over to him. “Alright?” He leaned down and gave her a quick peck in apology. “Alright. We’re running late since we left the packing to the last minute. We’ve got to get down to the ministry now to catch the portkey on time.” The pair grabbed their luggage and twisted in place, appearing moments later at the apparition point in the Ministry’s atrium. They hurried through the twisting corridors, trying to make it to the International Travel offices without getting detained by any of the people stopping short at the sight of the couple. Even years later, “The Chosen One’s” fame preceded him. Ministry lackeys, just short of slavering fans and certainly not anyone they knew, called out to them as they passed — “Hullo, Mr. Potter!”, “How are you doing today, Mr. Potter?” Harry rebutted with a wave and a quick smile that looked, to Ginny’s practiced eye, more like a grimace. And then there were the lower, pitying tones. “Alright there, Mrs. Potter?”, “Hope you’re feeling better, Mrs. Potter.” And then the honeyed tones and sympathetic eyes of the witch behind the desk in the IT office as they double-checked their travel forms. “I hope you have a restful trip, Mr. and Mrs. Potter.” Ginny gritted her teeth and Harry held her a little tighter to his side, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing calming circles on her wrist. Harry smiled in thanks and towed Ginny back to the closet-sized room their portkey — a gold vase sitting atop the table — would be departing from. In private, he folded her into a hug and rocked back and forth for a moment, her flame-colored hair spilling out in contrast across his chest and falling across to hide her face. “It’ll be fine.” Harry murmured to her. “We’ll get away for a while and it’ll blow over while we’re gone. We have a month to just relax and forget and it, yeah?” “Yeah.” Ginny agreed weakly. “I guess.” Idly, she rubbed the scar on the back of her neck. She could never truly forget. The Portkey beeped an alarm in warning and they lunged at it, each grabbing a handle with one hand and holding tightly with their luggage to the other. It glowed blue and they spun sickeningly (Harry still hated Portkey travel, even though the graveyard was years past) in air. Finally they landed with a solid “thump,” and Ginny tottered against Harry, trying to keep on her feet. The air washed over them, warm and sticky. A bored-looking official stood off to the side with a clipboard. “Mr. and Mrs. Potter? You’ve arrived at a branch of the American ministry. Welcome to Hawaii.” *** “Oh!” Ginny gasped in delight. Harry — who had the coordinates — had just side-alonged her to the cottage they would be staying in for the next month. It was gorgeous, constructed out of local woods and tucked into the foliage on the edge of a large clearing. She crossed over to the porch — where she pictured Harry and herself enjoying their evenings — and turned and surveyed the area. A matter of strides from their clearing was the beach — clean, beautiful, and what she appreciated the most; empty. The nearest neighbors were far out of sight, giving the electrifying feeling that they were the only people in existence. She took a deep breath and the salty humidity seemed to settle on her senses like a calming draught. Suddenly, Harry grabbed her about the waist and tossed her up on his shoulders; she protested half-heartedly as they both laughed in delight, he took off across the lawn and then across the sun-warmed sands of the beach, finally dumping them both in the gentle spray of the ocean lapping at their feet. The water lapping around their knees, Ginny sighed in contentment and leaned against Harry’s chest; the emotion behind the action far different than what it had been minutes earlier. Wrapping herself snugly around his waist, she pulled his head down to hers. “I love you.” She whispered against his lips, and before he could even begin to reply, her lips met his ardently, their tongues wrestling for dominance. In one of those rare displays of strength that Harry only seemed capable of in passionate moments, he hauled her up, settling her legs around his waist and walking her back to the cottage, snogging each other thoroughly the whole way. The first room they used was the bedroom. |
| Reviews 5 |
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