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SIYE Time:8:48 on 28th March 2024
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I'd Rather Fall in Chocolate
By Kezzabear

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Category: Alternate Universe
Characters:Harry/Ginny
Genres: Comedy
Warnings: Negative Alcohol Use
Story is Complete
Rating: PG-13
Reviews: 421
Summary: Ginny's got a new enemy - she's just not sure who it is ... Harry knows what he wants - he just doesn't know how to get it ...
Hitcount: Story Total: 100592; Chapter Total: 2432
Awards: View Trophy Room




Author's Notes:
See! I'm back. And SOON!
Yay me!




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Luna Lovegood had a boyfriend. He seemed to be a shy fellow who looked as though he wanted to be anywhere but where he was. He had sort of sandy hair and was about the same height as Harry. His robes hung on his lanky frame a bit crookedly, like they weren’t actually sure if they were in the right place, and there was something about Rolf that reminded Harry of Hagrid. Which was weird because Hagrid was neither lanky nor shy. Rolf was looking with interest at both the ground and the trees surrounding the Burrow, sort of nodding, his head tilted every now and then as if he were listening to something no one else could hear.

Luna, having arrived at The Burrow on foot had introduced Rolf to Harry and then asked him why he had so many Wrackspurts. Rolf stuck out his hand to shake Harry’s rather awkwardly and his sleeve rippled as though home to several small creatures. A small lizard-like creature seemed to scamper along his arm, disappearing under his collar and Harry, not sure if he’d seen it at all, had to work hard not to be alarmed.

“Good to meet you,” Harry said politely, wondering if he’d really seen a nose poke itself out of Rolf’s rather large pockets.

“Er, you too,” Rolf said rather absent-mindedly, scratching his head and staring at a tree a few feet away. “I say, that looks rather like it might be an Assyrian Jumping Moth. What is it doing here?” And with that, Rolf wandered off towards a tree behind Harry.

“Oh, um,” Harry said eloquently, looking backwards to Rolf and then back at Luna. “He, er … who is he?”

“He’s a magizoologist,” Luna said, her right arm wafting near Harry’s left ear. Startled, he ducked before Luna made contact with his head. “So many Wrackspurts.”

“So, he’s with … you’re with him then?” Harry asked, reasonably sure he did not in fact have a Wrackspurt infestation. Luna stopped waving her arms about and peered at him intently.

“We are lovers, if that’s what you’re asking,” she said with a little more awareness than Harry remembered ever seeing before. He gulped.

“Um, not really, I was just — er, well …” Harry trailed off because Luna didn’t look as though she were listening to him anyway, the moment of awareness gone as suddenly as it had come.

“Have you got a lover, Harry?” she asked, flicking her left hand near his shoulder. Harry’s face was flaming. He shook his head wordlessly. “That’s a pity. I can tell you’d make an excellent lover.”

Harry didn’t know where to look. He was used to Luna being candid and it had been utterly refreshing during his sixth year. He knew exactly where he stood with Luna and she didn’t try to flatter him or play any sort of games. He really had enjoyed going out with her, but she had never been quite this blunt.

“Er, thank you,” Harry said eventually. Luna just smiled enigmatically.

“Have you got someone in mind?” Luna asked suddenly. Harry’s eyes widened. This was not going the way he had envisioned. He leaned in closer to Luna, hoping that no one else could hear their exchange.

“Someone in mind for what?”

“To become your lover,” Luna said conversationally. “I can suggest someone if you like.”

“Um, thanks,” said Harry a little nervously, “but I reckon I’ve got that er … angle covered.” He did not have that angle covered. Not in the slightest.

“Is it Ginny Weasley?” Luna looked at him curiously. “She needs a lover.” Harry stared at Luna, knowing his eyes were wider than hers but unable to move. Or answer her. Or breathe.

“G — Ginny?” Harry eventually stammered.

“She has loved you for a very long time,” Luna said.

“Does she know that?” Harry bit out sarcastically, unable to help himself after the week he’d had. Ginny had managed to completely avoid him for the entire week before the wedding which, while showing an admirable attention to detail, was not the way Harry thought things were going to go.

“Perhaps not,” Luna said thoughtfully.

“Maybe someone should tell her,” Harry muttered belligerently, running a hand through his hair. Luna didn’t appear to be listening. She was now fluttering her fingers near his head as though she was picking insects from his hair. At that moment Rolf returned suddenly, his face animated and grinning broadly.

“Marvellous, marvellous!” he cried. “The habitat here is just right for the rare and unseen Babbling Lytlian Midge!”

“Did you find one?” Luna asked, ceasing her movements about Harry’s head.

“No, no, but the habitat is perfect!” Rolf tilted his head, nodding again to his unseen audience. “Come, dearest, I will show you!” He did not really acknowledge Harry as he tugged on Luna’s hand, drawing her away from Harry and towards the large tree he’d been inspecting for moths before. Harry would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little relieved. He had adored Luna, still did, but he wasn’t sure that she wasn’t dottier than ever.

Ginny? In love with him? For a long time? Harry laughed. The woman couldn’t stand him!

It wasn’t really a laughing matter of course. He would now die alone, pining for the woman he loved, probably surrounded by rotting piles of all the cases he never solved as an Auror because he would never be able to focus on his work but he would never be able to give it up either. Ron and Hermione would have to check on him every few days to make sure he wasn’t buried underneath his files and they’d make sure he ate occasionally. He’d be so dead inside that he’d even eat Hermione’s cooking. Battling that would probably be the only thing to make him feel alive.

“Oi!” Ron called frantically, shaking Harry out of his dreary visions of the future. “Look alive! It’s starting!” Ron was a cross between terrified and elated, or drunk (he had better not be or Hermione was going to kill him). Ron waved frantically at his best man from the edge of the lawn while smartly dressed guests milled around the entrance to the marquee. Luna danced her way towards it, yellow robes almost floating around her and Rolf scurrying behind her. Harry was sure he had a creature clutched in his hand, but he couldn’t think about that now. George doffed his ridiculous top hat at several young witches who giggled at him but appeared mostly unaffected. Mrs Weasley brushed at Charlie’s robes while Mr Weasley slapped Percy on the back and Bill took a squirming Victoire from Fleur. Harry made his way to the marquee entrance wondering if he should get a dog to keep him company as he slowly pined away amidst his future unsolved files. When Harry eventually reached Ron, the Groom did indeed have a drink in his hand.

“What are you drinking?” Harry hissed.

“Mr Granger gave it to me,” Ron said, waving the glass at Harry. “To settle my nerves!” Harry was not sure that had been a wise move on Mr Granger’s part.

“Are you drunk?” Harry eyed his best friend carefully. Ron grinned.

“It’s gin,” Ron whispered. “Not my sister — the drink! I feel great!” Harry grimaced. Clearly things had gone far enough with the gin.

“Give it here,” Harry said, rolling his eyes. Ron rolled his eyes in return and handed Harry the glass.

“I’m not drunk,” Ron said. “Just happy. ‘Sides, it’s a party!” Harry banished the glass and subtly cast a sobering charm at Ron. On top of the second-best champagne, the gin was an unwelcome addition to Ron’s pre-wedding celebrations. Ron frowned at Harry.

“I wasn’t drunk,” he whined. Harry just raised his eyebrows and straightened Ron’s tie, then his own. Harry patted his breast pocket to reassure himself the rings were there before smiling encouragingly at Ron who now looked like he was about to eat slugs.

Perhaps the sobering charm had been a mistake.

Ron swallowed heavily before Harry placed his hand under Ron’s elbow and began leading him down the aisle.

“Um, Harry,” Ron began, “it’s really happening, isn’t it? I’m getting married.” Truthfully, he still looked a little terrified.

“You’ll be fine,” Harry muttered out the corner of his mouth, a grin plastered on his face as he nodded at the assembled guests. “One foot in front of the other, you can do this.”

“What if I stuff it up?” Ron asked seriously.

“You always do, and she still loves you,” Harry laughed. “All you have to do is grovel a bit!” They had made it to the front of the marquee.

“That’s true,” said Ron, perking up a bit before turning around. “That’s what you should try with Ginny!”

“What?”

“You need to do some serious grovelling, mate,” Ron said, the seriousness of his tone at odds with the cheery smile he was bestowing on the entire marquee.

“I — what?”

“For ditching her and giving mum her flowers,” Ron explained as though explaining things to a small child, or to someone who knew what he was talking about. Which Harry did not. That Ron chose this moment to begin this particular conversation made Harry want to strangle him. Or perhaps jinx him. But a beaming Mrs Weasley taking her seat made Harry restrain himself.

“I didn’t ditch her,” Harry whispered fiercely out the side of his mouth, realisation suddenly dawning. “Wait, is that why everyone’s been cross with me all week? Well you could have let a bloke know before now! And hey, what’d you mean about the flowers?”

“Not now, Harry!” Ron said in an undertone. “I’m a little busy.” Harry contemplated the Jelly Legs Jinx. Or perhaps a Stinging Hex.

“We are not finished with this conversation!” Harry whispered, plastering a smile on his face as the music changed. Whatever else he was about to say to Ron completely vanished from his head as Ginny Weasley appeared at the entrance to the marquee.

Harry’s tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth, but he couldn’t have found any words to speak anyway. Ginny’s hair was piled up on top of her head, adorned with delicate white flowers. Sparkling jewels that caught the light of the candles placed around the marquee glittered at her throat. The green dress showed off both her shapely legs and the swell of her bosom, which was something Harry always appreciated in a dress. He couldn’t wait to get a look at the back of it.

Ginny seemed to glide down the aisle. Either she was concentrating really hard or that floor covering was enchanted. Unable to take his eyes off her, Harry let himself simply watch her, sure a silly grin was on his face. He didn’t care. Ginny steadily made her way to the front of the marquee, pausing for a slight moment halfway down the aisle. For a moment their eyes locked but it was so brief Harry wondered if he’d dreamt it. Ginny’s bouquet of white flowers wobbled almost imperceptibly before she seemed to straighten, fix her eyes to the front of the marquee, and go on.

Harry, unable to take his eyes off her, gazed at Ginny as she arrived at the front of the marquee, and as Hermione walked up the aisle on the arm of her father.

“She’s beautiful,” Ron sighed. Harry nodded; his eyes still fixed on Ginny who had not made eye contact with him since her momentary pause halfway down the aisle.

“Yeah, she is,” Harry breathed. Ron looked sideways at his best man.

“I meant Hermione,” Ron said with a chuckle. Harry flushed and his eyes flickered to the bride momentarily.

“Sure, her too,” Harry whispered, eyes sparkling with mischief. Ron elbowed him in the ribs and Harry held back his laughter with great difficulty.

Finishing her walk down the aisle, Hermione stepped up next to Ron, handing Ginny her bouquet and giggling as her eyes met Ron’s. Ginny winked at Ron from behind an armful of white flowers and, eyes still on Ginny, Harry resolved to do whatever grovelling he needed to do
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