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SIYE Time:13:54 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: 100595; Chapter Total: 9911
Awards: View Trophy Room




Author's Notes:
I need to let you all know that Luna features in this chapter. Or rather the spectre of Luna. If the thought that Harry once went out with Luna squicks you, please stop reading here because it's mentioned.

I make no apologies for the turn this fic has taken in the last few days as I have written. I can't base the story I am telling on a few readers and their personal likes and dislikes. Complaints about the H/L backstory will not be responded to from this point.

That said, if you're ready for some more of Harry's inner thinkings ... prepare to be dazzled! Or at least mildly illuminated ...




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Harry didn’t think he could look Ron directly in the eye. He would definitely know that Harry had just looked his sister directly in the bum. He might be almost okay with that as a cold hard fact — after all it was inadvertent, and could have happened to anybody — but Ron was a bloke, he knew what Harry was thinking about Ginny’s bum now that he’d seen it in those blue jeans. He was probably thinking it right now, staring at Hermione’s bum.

Ugh.

Harry sat at the table determined to keep his wayward mouth closed — except for the express purpose of eating. Conversation was too risky. Harry flushed as he remembered the filth that had spilled unbidden from his mouth when caught unawares by arguably the best looking bum in existence. And he hadn’t helped matters by trying to get another look at her boobs. He sat in his seat heavily. Definitely no talking. If he could get through this one dinner, tomorrow he could head back safely to Bulgaria — trying to avoid Viktor Krum and his meddlesome matchmaking. Harry still had no idea why the former Seeker kept setting Harry up with women who all had squinty eyes and buck teeth. He was running out of excuses to avoid the procession of stooped, dentally challenged witches, one of whom couldn’t have been younger than fifty.

Molly Weasley began to serve the meal and Harry endeavoured to keep his head down and his eyes to himself. If he just concentrated on his potatoes it would be a lot easier to get through dinner, with Ginny sitting just across the table, tilting her head back as she sipped from her goblet, exposing the long, creamy column of her throat. By fixating firmly on his knife Harry wouldn’t be distracted by Ginny licking her soft, plump lips as she ate delicately, a fork poised in mid air to show off her pale, silky wrists. Harry stuffed his mouth full of treacle tart to keep from sighing out loud — or drooling. Each would have been equally embarrassing. At least Ginny was wearing a bulky jumper … that was too big for her and exposed the dusting of freckles across one luminescent shoulder. Harry groaned.

“You all right, mate?” Ron asked. He was busy helping himself to a third helping of some sort of pie and Harry stared avidly at the pie in an effort to stop his eyes following the curve of Ginny’s neck as she twisted her hair up, trying to secure the wayward strands in a rubber band.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Harry muttered, clamping his lips tight before he accidentally commented on the silky look of Ginny’s hair. Ginny hadn’t spared him one glance as she coolly ate two servings of main course, helped herself to about five bread rolls and drowned her pudding in custard before driving Harry completely mad by licking the spoon after every bite.

“Really, Ginny,” Molly Weasley said with a frown, her voice dripping disapproval, “you really need to think of your figure!” Ginny rolled her eyes and began picking at the bits of treacle tart crust left in her dish. Harry smiled when he remembered how she used to blush furiously and drop dishes.

“It is a lovely figure,” said Harry’s mouth before he could stop it, distracted by thoughts of a clumsy, eleven year old Ginny. He had always ignored her then and it would have been better if he had continued to do so instead of developing an almost involuntary verbal reaction to Ginny’s … femininity.

Harry felt like the entire room stopped and looked at him. Which would have been fine except that Molly was looking at him with a sort of scary gleam in her eye, Hermione was studying him closely and Ginny was shooting daggers his way. If looks could kill, he would be dead. The Auror office should work out how to turn that glare into a deadly weapon. It could become even more feared than the Avada Kedavra. There was no escaping this stare. It would make its way through stone to pierce your skull and turn your insides to ice.

Harry gulped.

“Hey Mum, have you seen my Cannons underpants?” Ron asked suddenly, his mouth still crammed with food.

“Really, you are bringing up underpants at the dinner table, Ron?” Hermione scolded. “For starters your mother is not your slave and don’t you think I’ll be rooting around on the floor to find all the dirty underwear once we’re married! You’ll need to levitate your own soiled clothing to the laundry. If it’s not in there, I won’t be washing it — but it wouldn’t hurt you to learn how to do the washing yourself, you know.”

Ron began a half hearted protest and then subsided, picking bits of meat and vegetables from one of the pots as he rolled his eyes at Harry and endured Hermione’s lecture. Harry kept his lips once again firmly closed and his eyes on his fingernails. Inside he was thanking Ron for the distraction - he had saved Harry from a fate worse than Voldemort. Still, Harry carefully avoided looking at Molly Weasley who was fussing at Ginny to leave the treacle tart alone, try a new shampoo that promised to make your locks shine like gold and sit straight in her chair.

Harry thought Ginny's hair was already impossibly shiny - and silky - and if Ginny sat straight in her chair she wouldn't be able to look directly at him. Which actually wasn't a bad idea. With Ginny staring a hole through his skull Harry was about to go mad, or spontaneously combust. He began to plot his escape, wondering if he could summon something from George to create a diversion. Palming his wand under the table, Harry sent a non-verbal summoning charm towards George's pockets.

He was not expecting the pair of pink, frilly knickers that landed in his lap, or the wink that George threw him across the table. Harry blushed furiously, hastily tried to rid himself of the knickers and nearly fell off his chair, his elbow landing in his Butterbeer as he did so. George snickered and Harry stood with as much dignity as he could muster, surreptitiously banishing the knickers, and glaring at George.

"Oh Harry, just go on into the sitting room," Molly said as she fussed over his soiled shirt sleeve. "We'll have a nice chat before you have to go back to that nasty job of yours." Harry scuttled quickly out of the kitchen and threw himself on the threadbare couch, wanting to avoid looking at Ginny at all costs.

Merlin, if this was how she felt all those years ago when she was clumsy, no wonder she never spoke!

"Losing your touch, Potter?" George asked with a smirk as he flung himself into a nearby armchair.

"Sod off," Harry muttered, staring into the fireplace.

"Used to be once you could pick my pocket without me noticing," George said conversationally. "What have they got you doing over there in Bulgaria? Paperwork?"

"I go out in the field occasionally," said Harry defensively. "There's just not as many Dark Wizards ..." Harry trailed off, knowing it was more like he was bored and lonely and that the last partner he'd had turned out to be the kind of wizard who enjoyed the company of other wizards and assumed Harry's lack of attention to the witches was an indication that he would be amenable to a tryst in the middle of a wheat field in southern Spain while on assignment.

Harry was now positive that he did not enjoy the ... intimate company of other wizards. He didn't go out on assignment much either.

"Remember when she used to blush around you?" George said. "Those were the good old days! Golden school days of our youth! Adventure ... fun ... highjinks!"

"Danger ... torture ... death," muttered Harry. George ignored him and began prattling about the witch who'd been wearing the pink, frilly knickers just hours ago.

Harry thought he might die of embarrassment - or excessive detail, he wasn't sure which was worse, the fact that the witch in question was Parvati Patil, or that he now knew exactly how to seduce her.

"So ..." George trailed off and winked suggestively as Ginny apeared in the doorway, scowling. "Ron tells me you had a bird on your arm last night?"

"She was ..." Harry paused, searching for the right words. "Seamus set us up."

"She was ghastly," Ginny said, crossing the room and throwing herself into the armchair by the fireplace. Harry tried not to notice the way the firelight flickered across her features and made her glow.

"I'm not surprised," George said. "I don't think you've been out with a decent sort since ... Luna."

"It's not my fault," Harry protested. "I think all the good witches must be taken. I keep getting the humpbacked ones with buck teeth and warty noses!" Ginny snorted.

"There's more to a witch than her looks, you know," she snapped. "Some of us actually have brains."

"I know," Harry said, staring at her, perplexed. "I grew up with Hermione, but that doesn't change the fact that Gladys Winterbourne has bad breath, snorts like a pig when she eats and can only talk about Celestina Warbeck and Hector Higgins."

"Who's Hector Higgins?" asked George, leaning back and folding his hands behind his head as if he was settling in to watch the telly.

"Lead actor in that wireless show Mum's always listening to." Ginny rolled her eyes. "He's supposed to be handsome but if you ask me he's got a crooked nose and weird looking ears."

"I know!" Harry exclaimed, pointing at Ginny. "That's what I told Gladys and she said I had no class and wouldn't know talent if it came up and bit me! I still think he sounds like a horse with a Snitch up its nose."

"More like a donkey," Ginny mused. Harry snorted softly and smiled. Ginny really was quite pretty when she wasn’t glaring at him.

“Is that the show with Horatio and Beryl?” George asked.

“That’s the one, mate,” Harry said, nodding at George. “Gladys made me sit and listen to the Christmas marathon last year on our second date. I would rather sit through Potions with Snape than listen to that rubbish again. There was no third date.” Harry shuddered.

“Poor woman,” Ginny muttered. “You probably left her hanging too.” Harry narrowed his eyes. He didn’t have a chance to respond before Hermione came bustling into the room with several fabric swatches in her arms. George cursed under his breath and vanished so swiftly from the room Harry could have sworn the other man Disapparated.

“Which one, Ginny?” Hermione asked, dumping the load of swatches in Ginny’s lap. “I’m partial to the powder blue but I’m not sure it will go with your hair.” Hermione snatched a length of pale blue fabric and held it to Ginny’s face. Ginny scowled as Hermione began holding lengths of shiny fabric up, critically appraising the way they made Ginny look. As she got to the greens Hermione began muttering and Ginny’s eyes began to flash.

“I thought we’d decided on lemon for the bridesmaid dresses?” she asked, gritting her teeth and swatting at a lurid lime green fabric that rustled.

“Bland,” Hermione dismissed with a wave of pink shiny stuff. “I need something that contrasts the beige and the ecru.”

“Luna always said yellow was a good colour for weddings,” Harry said, thinking he might help Ginny out but she just turned to him and frowned. “She always said she was going to wear yellow at her wedding.” Ginny’s frown deepened.

“She is also the one who believes in Nargles,” Hermione said stiffly as she brandished a particularly horrid shade of orange that clashed terribly with Ginny’s hair.

“I’m going to wear this one,” Ginny growled as she thrust a forest green length of shimmering fabric at Hermione before standing and pushing the swatches to the floor and stalking out of the room. Harry gulped at the look Ginny threw him as she left. It made his blood run cold and his heart stop.

“She’s going to look like a Christmas tree!” Hermione wailed.

But Harry ignored her and stared after Ginny Weasley, wondering why Ron’s little sister suddenly looked like she wanted to run a stake through his heart.
Reviews 421
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