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SIYE Time:7:28 on 29th 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: 100604; Chapter Total: 2274
Awards: View Trophy Room




Author's Notes:
Er ... Happy New Year?




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Harry’s lips were soft, and he had the merest hint of stubble that tickled her face. His hand, pressed against her back just at the place where her dress dipped low, felt like fire and Ginny’s knees began to give way. Harry lips slid over hers and his tongue whispered along them. Ginny couldn’t help opening her mouth and Harry sucked her bottom lip in, grazing it with his teeth. Ginny had been kissed before. By several of her more … confident dates. But never had she been kissed liked this. Quite apart from the fact that Luna was right — Harry Potter was Very Good at kissing — she could breathe, didn’t need to wipe away any drool and no one had been bitten yet. The whole situation definitely had promise.

Ginny slipped her arm up and around Harry’s neck, her other hand still clasped firmly in his, close to their hearts. Harry’s hand on her back was all that was holding her up now and she was quite unsure where she ended, and Harry began. She wasn’t even sure if they were still dancing. She could vaguely hear music playing. And George wolf whistling.

“OI!” Ginny dimly heard Ron exclaim. “There’s a wedding going on here!” Harry pulled his lips away from hers slowly and Ginny opened her eyes to see him grinning rather unapologetically at Ron. And Hermione, who was beaming.

“Well, you know … romance and … stuff,” Harry said. He looked down at Ginny, his eyes now looking uncertain. Several couples around them were still dancing to a song about springtime and Ginny could see George, Bill and Charlie sitting at the family table, applauding. She stuck her tongue out at them and Harry turned to see what she was looking at. George gave Harry two thumbs up and Bill smirked at him. Harry blushed a deep, tomato red and looked back down at Ginny. She wondered if he was going to kiss her again. Instead, Harry winced, his hand flying up to the back of his head.

“I said talk to her — not snog her!” Ron had flicked Harry just behind his left ear.

“Hey!” Harry said, rubbing his head, making his hair stick out at multiple angles which looked far sexier than it had a right to do.

“Oh Ron,” Hermione said, draping her arms around her new husband’s neck, “leave them alone. What are weddings for if not romance … and stuff?” Ginny wondered what this woman had done with Hermione Granger. Huh, perhaps Hermione Granger-Weasley was less of a crazed bride than Hermione Granger had been? Ron and Hermione were now staring into each other eyes and Celestina Warbeck was warbling about hot cauldrons. Did the wizard in charge of the music not own records by any other singer?

“What did Ron want you to talk to me about?” Ginny asked, finally registering what her brother had said. Harry began shuffling about a little in a reasonable imitation of dancing. Ron and Hermione had begun snogging as they swayed next to them on the dancefloor and he eyed them fondly.

“Ron wanted me to ...” Harry trailed off, glancing down at her nervously, “to tell you … erm how I, um … feel.”

“How you feel?” Ginny repeated stupidly. She was utterly discombobulated and desperately looking for a way to get her emotions and thoughts in order. Because right now they were racing through her mind like a herd of Hippogriffs.

Her date (if one could call Cannon that) was the president of the ‘I Love Harry Potter’ Fan Club. Luna had a boyfriend. He had a miniature dragon-thing. Harry was not Luna’s date. Luna had been Snorkack hunting and making love on mountains. There were moths that looked like poodles. Harry Potter was an excellent kisser. Luna had not made love to Harry. Luna said Ginny loved Harry. (Did she?!?) Ginny had just been thoroughly kissed by Harry Potter. She enjoyed it. Her brothers apparently approved. They had been Up To Something. She didn’t know what. Harry had sexy hair.

It was a lot of information to process in less than 30 minutes.

Ginny looked up at Harry. His hair was still sexy. So was his face. And what he was doing with his hand on her back. This was not helping her organise her thoughts. Celestina Warbeck had finally run out of things to sing about and the music had changed to a light instrumental piece quite unsuitable for dancing. Ron and Hermione still swayed to the music, oblivious, and Harry was opening and closing his mouth as if not sure where to begin. Ginny shrugged and pulled away, not sure where this conversation was going or if she was ready for it. Obviously, some distance was called for here.

“Why did you think Luna was my date?” Harry blurted.

“You were with her,” Ginny said. She had only moved a few inches. “I know you wanted her. And you didn’t want me.”

“Yes I do,” Harry whispered. He stepped towards her, reached for her hand and pulled her close. Ginny stared at him.

“You do?”

“I came back to England for you,” Harry whispered. “I just … I needed to be with you.”

“Me?” Ginny couldn’t work out what he meant even though she understood every word he said. Would she ever regain the ability to think?

“Yeah …” Harry’s eyes flicked down to her lips and back up to her eyes again. Ginny was not sure she was ready for him to kiss her again.

She desperately wanted him to.

“Oh, there you are!” Ginny’s mother suddenly bustled into view and Ginny moved away, tugging her hand from Harry’s. She though she saw him frown slightly but turned all her attention to her mother who was rather flushed, her eyes twinkling. Ginny supressed a shudder with difficulty. She knew that look. Her father had probably been calling her Mollywobbles somewhere private. Honestly. There was clearly far too much romance and … stuff going on at this wedding.

“Hello Mrs Weasley,” Harry said politely, straightening up. Ginny eyed him speculatively. He’d gone very stiff and formal all of a sudden.

“Oh, just call me Molly, dear!” Harry smiled a little as her mother tried to straighten his hair before giving up.

“What’s happening, mum?” Ginny asked, trying to sound casual. She was not certain that she had succeeded because her mother was eyeing her with intense speculation.

“Speeches,” Molly Weasley said shortly, turning back to Harry and dusting invisible lint from his robes, “specifically, yours dear. Everyone else is waiting.” It was then that Ginny noticed the empty dancefloor and looked up to find most of the guests seated and Mr Granger standing with Bill, a glass in his hand.

“Oh, um, right,” Harry stammered, running one hand through his crazy sexy hair.

He needed to stop doing that.

Ginny had very little idea of what anyone said during the speeches and toasts. Instead of the rapt concentration displayed by her mother, Ginny’s brain replayed images of Cannon staring longingly at Harry, Luna handing Rolf a fluffy slug, her brothers looking guilty and Harry ruffling his hair. Ginny had no way of knowing how long anyone had been speaking, nor what they had been saying. Mr Granger, Ron and Harry had been speaking for a good twenty minutes. Or an eternity. Ginny had no way to tell. Hermione might have done cute and awkward things as a child; Harry was possibly the best friend her brother had ever had and Ron was irreplaceable or maybe irrepressible although it was doubtful Harry knew that word so Ron was probably irreplaceable. Irresponsible? Possibly. Irreverent? Definitely. Irresistible? Erm … was Harry still talking about Ron?

Ginny eyed the bridal table, searching for a drink. All the glasses were empty. Were these people trying to dehydrate her? Hadn’t she just had a drink in her hand because they toasted … someone? What if they toasted someone else? It was her bridesmaidly duty to make sure she had a drink. Pulling her wand from its hiding place in her bouquet, Ginny aimed it at the bar and summoned a drink.

It might not be traditional to toast with whatever pink and frothy creation came her way but at least she had a drink in her hand the moment Harry called for a toast to the bride and groom.

It tasted awful.

“Did you swipe Auntie Muriel’s cocktail?” Ron asked her as she sat down, choking slightly, undercover of the round of applause still sweeping the marquee.

“I just needed a drink,” Ginny hissed, “so I summoned one from the bar. I think someone stole mine!”

“I think you drank yours,” Ron muttered back, “and mine! You even drank when I toasted the bridesmaid — which is you!” The waiters were bringing out plates of food and Harry was talking quietly with Hermione on Ron’s other side. Ginny still had no idea what to do with the events of the last hour, or with the disgusting cocktail in her hand.

“Harry kissed me,” Ginny said to Ron as a waiter put plates of fancy looking food in front of them. Ron speared a piece of chicken with his fork and rolled his eyes.

“I know,” Ron said, before shoving the chicken in his mouth, “boutime — s’beenmooingofulonuff.”

“What?” Ginny stared at her brother. Ron finished chewing, swallowed and grinned at her while loading up his fork again.

“He’s been mooning over you long enough,” Ron said before stuffing his face with chicken, chewing with a satisfied grin on his face.

“I hardly think, well, you know, an hour or so is …” Ginny waved her drink in the air, still trying to gather her thoughts. “An hour or so is not mooning nor is it long.” She focused on the plate a waiter had brought her, trying to work out how to dismantle the elegant looking creation on her plate.

“An hour?” Ron burst out laughing and both Harry and Hermione turned to look at him before shaking their heads fondly and returning their attention to their own meals. Ron shook with laughter as he loaded his fork with more chicken before waving it in Ginny’s direction. “Try years!”

“Years?” Ginny echoed, wondering if she should fortify herself with the beef wellington on her plate or the frothy, pink drink in her glass.

“Yeah,” Ron said, picking up his own drink, waving it at her before taking a huge gulp. “He thinks we didn’t know. But we knew. Luna knew that we knew, even if he didn’t know. In fact, I think she knew first.” Ron nodded sagely as he scooped up some of his potatoes.

“Knew what?” Ginny asked, irritated by Ron’s vague double talk and constant eating.

“Couldn’t get him to admit it though,” Ron continued as if Ginny had not spoken, more potatoes hanging precariously off the end of his fork. “Or, well he can be a bit dim. Went off to Bulgaria. Bloody tosser.”

Ginny watched as Ron continued eating, making eyes at Hermione and drinking increasing amounts of whatever layered concoction was in his glass. She pushed her beef wellington around the plate idly, knowing she would get nothing more of any sense out of Ron.

Her thoughts drifted to The Git. Could she still call him that? Did he have … feelings for her? Did she have … feelings for him? Ginny reached for her pink, frothy cocktail, taking a large sip. Her spine still vibrated from where Harry had trailed his fingers. Her lips still tingled from his kiss.

Or was that from the cocktail?

Ginny eyed it disdainfully, wishing she had summoned something that did not resemble Skelegrow and blood replenishing potion, and not quite knowing how to get rid of it.

“I didn’t think you were the cocktail type.” A deep voice at her elbow startled her out of her reverie. Ginny looked up and straight into the twinkling eyes of Harry Potter, his mouth was quirked in a half smile and his messy black hair glinted in the dim light of multiple candles floating throughout the marquee. Ginny felt her stomach swoop and her breath quicken. Raising her glass like she was giving a toast, she winked at him.

“Well, I didn’t think I was the Harry Potter type, but here we are.”
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