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SIYE Time:10:38 on 29th March 2024
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One Little Slip
By deenas

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Category: Post-Hogwarts, Post-DH/PM
Characters:Harry/Ginny
Genres: Comedy
Warnings: Mild Language
Story is Complete
Rating: PG-13
Reviews: 9
Summary: When you're in a foreign country, it's really best to know what you're saying....
Hitcount: Story Total: 4338



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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"And Weasley, I suggest you stop daydreaming and actually read the play book!" bellowed Warren Worrington, the coach of the English Quidditch team.

Ginny turned away, blushing at the comment. "Yes, sir," she whispered. She hated it when Coach did that; taking his frustration out on the players. They'd won the match, for Merlin's sake; couldn't he just be happy about it. Yes, it was the quarter-final match leading up to the World Cup, but the man's feelings about Quidditch bordered on the obsessive.

"What was that?"

Ginny looked up warily as the coach hovered over her. "Yes. Sir," she answered through clenched teeth.

"It's a good thing we won, Weasley. You certainly didn't prove you belong here."

Fighting back the urge to hex the man, Ginny took a deep breath. "I'll do better on Friday."

"Make sure you do." He finally turned to the rest of the team and announced, "Practise tomorrow at eight ay-em, understand?" Groans filled the room. "Peru is the toughest team in the tournament and we need to play our sorry arses off to get to the finals next month. Get some rest tonight, and remember curfew is at eleven. I WILL be doing room checks."

"Why are you looking at me? Doug was the one with a girl in his bed," piped in Charlene Williams, the English Seeker.

"Just be in by eleven, not two, Charlene. That's all for now." The team got up from their chairs, grabbed their rucksacks, and said their goodbyes.

Ginny was left alone in the changing room, thinking about the match against Italy. It wasn't her best match by far, but it also wasn't her worst. She was the target of several Bludgers and still managed to score eight goals during the match; she had averaged twelve in the previous World Cup matches and had been the Harpies' leading scorer with 12.7 goals per game.

She opened her playbook and turned to the loose sheet of parchment nestled inside the front cover. It was well worn and smudged in some places. She trailed her finger over the markings and closed her eyes. A chill went up and down her spine which could only mean one thing: Harry was there. She slammed the book shut, hiding the parchment from him, and spun around.

"What are you doing, Harry? I was almost ready to leave."

He threw off the Invisibility Cloak and stood before her, grinning and wearing a red sweatshirt emblazoned with 'England Rocks' across the front. "Nice to see you, too." He leaned down and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. "You were taking too long and I wanted to see you." He peered around her shoulder and caught sight of the playbook. "What've you got there?"

She clutched it to her chest protectively. "Nothing."

"Come on. Looks like your playbook."

"It is, okay? You...you can't see it. It's confidential," she said shakily.

"Is not! I helped you study the plays. What's so interesting in there?" He reached for the book, but she moved out of the way, standing up and stepping backward. Harry lost his balance and tumbled to the floor. "Bollocks!"

Laughter erupted from her mouth. "Are you hurt?"

"Just my pride." He got off the floor and stepped in front of her. "Now what's in the book? I heard someone say something like 'Weasley's little doodles' in the corridor. Do you draw in your playbook?" He grabbed for it again, but she was quicker and ducked out of the way. "Let me see!"

"No! It's private!" She began to run out of the room but Harry caught her around the waist and began kissing her neck.

"Please...tell...me. You...can...trust...me," he said between kisses, all the while caressing her waist, hips, and bum.

"It's embarrassing."

He pulled back and lifted one eyebrow. "What's so bad about it?" He rested his forehead against hers, wearing a look of tenderness she knew she'd have a hard time refusing.

"I'm embarrassed to tell you. Yo soy embarazada." (1)

"What?"

"It's Spanish. Yo soy embarazada," she repeated a little louder she said with a smile.

A flash of light filled the room, and the two of them turned toward the source. There, grinning maniacally stood a reporter and his equally giddy photographer, who continued snapping pictures and temporarily blinding Harry and Ginny with the continuous flash bulb explosions.

"¡Vámonos, Enrique!" shouted the reporter, grabbing Enrique by the collar of his shirt and dragging him away. Harry took off after them but the unmistakeable sound of Apparation signalled their departure.

He returned to her and took her hand, leading her back to the door.

"Wonder what that was all about," wondered Ginny as she followed him. "They acted like they walked in on us shagging in the changing room."

"Mmm, we haven't done that yet," he teased, squeezing her hand.

"I like it better in that big bed in the hotel."

"And in the whirlpool tub."

"And on the floor in front of the fireplace."

"I love that one, too."

"Well, I love you."

In the morning, Ginny woke before the alarm, sorry to be alone. After leaving the changing room, she and Harry had gone to a cosy little restaurant in Muggle Barcelona for dinner and then to his hotel room. Not wanting to anger Warren, she had returned to her own room at ten-thirty, but Harry didn't leave until ten-fifty-nine.

She stretched her arms above her head, relishing the slight soreness between her legs. Even though he'd only stayed a half hour, they managed to make love twice. Damn, she loved it when they did it quickly. Pulling herself into a sitting position, she rose from the bed and padded over to the door to retrieve her morning paper. While the Informe de Cataluña was in Spanish, a simple translation spell was a simple fix. She opened the door and groaned. Instead of a single newspaper lying on the floor, there were three different issues and they all had pictures of her and Harry on the front page.

"Damn," she muttered, picking them off the floor and quickly heading back inside. Placing the papers on the table, she began perusing the front pages. Each one had the same photo of the two of them, most likely the same one taken of them in the changing room.

The headline in the Informe stated:
Potter y Weasley en la dulce espera.


Anger bubbled up inside and she didn't even bother with the translation charm before incinerating it with her wand.

The headline for El Profeta de Sevilla announced
El Elegido tendrá un bebé.


"Hmm, at least they said I was his baby," she whispered as that paper turned to ashes as well.

Finally, El Mundo del Quidditch said
Weasley es un mal modelo para las niñas. (2)


Even with her limited knowledge of Spanish, she knew the paper was taking a pot-shot at her as a role model. With another groan of frustration, she burned that issue as well before heading to the shower to get rid of the smell of burnt parchment.


The lift opened to the lobby of the hotel, revealing a mob of photographers, reporters and fans, all screaming her name. With her eyes widened in panic, she only picked up a few of the questions, which all sounded horribly mean-spirited.

"¿Es verdad, Ginny?"(3)

"¿Qué dijo Harry cuando se enteró?" (4)

"Este es el fin de tu carrera deportiva, ¿verdad?" (5)

"¡Puta!" (6)

Ginny knew what that one meant and turned to the woman standing at the back of the crowd. "What? What did you call me?"

"¡Eres una puta!" (7)

The woman's words angered Ginny and she fought her way through the crowd, desperately trying to ignore the questions being fired at her and the numerous flashbulbs blinding her. She was almost to the door when a tug on her sleeve pulled her attention from the crowd. Hoping it was team security, she stopped and turned to find a small girl with an English team t-shirt.

"Can I have your... autograph, por favor?" the girl asked in a mixture of Spanish and English, making Ginny smile.

"Sí, señorita," she answered happily as she took the quill and programme from the girl and began writing her name carefully for the fan.

"Get away from my daughter, you scarlet woman!"

Ginny stopped writing and saw a woman, filled with rage, swoop down and pick up the little girl and clasping her tightly in her arms.

"You're a stain on the good name of English women!"

Ginny realised the woman spoke with a light York accent.

"I...I...what did I do?"

"Ginny!"

She turned and saw Harry walking towards her from the lifts, anger evident on his face. He ignored the questions coming from the crowd and grabbed her arm, pulling her close.

"Let's get you out of here," he said into her ear and together they Apparated to the practise pitch.


Her eyes opened and she was immediately blinded. Ginny had just Apparated in from Spain to make her required stop at the Department of Magical Games and Sports only to find more reporters.

"So when are you due?"

"Are you and Harry getting married now?"

"Will you keep the baby?"

"What the bloody hell are you people talking about?" she shouted to no one in particular. "I am not pregnant."

"But Ginevra, dear," rang an overly cheery voice, "surely you've seen the papers. There was an eyewitness after all." Rita Skeeter grin maniacally, her Quick Quotes Quill poised atop the parchment in the woman's hand.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Rita," Ginny said. "Papers lie."

"But there is a precedent with you and Harry, isn't there? Did you or did you not go to a meeting with a Healer together? What other reason would a wizard go to an appointment with his fiancée if it wasn't a prenatal appointment?" Rita batted her eyelashes while the quill scratched across the paper.

Ginny shook her head. That particular appointment was to see a physical therapist for an injury Ginny had in a training exercise. Harry went along because he wanted to be able to help her with her rehab.

"It...it wasn't!"

"So you're denying the baby is Harry's?"

"Who's the father then? You can tell us, Ginny."

Her anger built and she whipped out her wand, ready to Bat Bogey hex the next person who said something. A collective gasp came from the gaggle of reporters and they quieted. Rita Skeeter reached into her bag and withdrew several newspapers. With her wand, she muttered the translation spell and held them out for Ginny.

She took them and glanced down. The headlines, which she had only seen written in Spanish, screamed at her.

The Chosen One is Having a Baby.

"That's what that meant?"

Potter and Weasley Have a Sweet Expectation.

"Oh, Merlin," she groaned.

Pregnant Quidditch Player Loses Match.

Ginny cringed when she saw the last one, which was referring to the loss England suffered to Peru. She had an extremely off game and was benched when she missed her eighth shot on goal and endured her fourth Bludger hit.

She rolled her eyes, shoved the papers into her bag, and marched through the gathering until she reached the door to the Department of Magical Sports and Games. It was with welcome relief that she opened the door and shut out the persistent members of the press. Leaning against the door, she took a few deep breaths and then opened her eyes. There, standing in front of her, was the department head, the English team coach and staff, the Harpies' coach and management, and the other members of the English team.

Ginny felt her stomach knot up inside her body and groaned in frustration. "I'm not pregnant."

Louis Wendell, a large man with a handlebar moustache and the director of the Quidditch department, waved his wand and cast an obvious silencing and privacy charm. "Ms. Weasley, I suggest you explain what this is all about."

She sighed and dropped her bag onto the floor. "I have no idea how the rumour started, sir. The picture that the papers are flashing around was taken after the match against France." She paused and looked at the unmoved faces of the others in the room. "Harry and I were talking in the changing room. The reporter and photographer snuck in and took the photo. I assure you that neither of us mentioned anything about a pregnancy."

Her audience seemed unmoved, especially the men, which really didn't surprise her. The wizarding world wasn't as forward thinking as their Muggle counterparts. She and the other women on the team had to work twice as hard as the men to earn their spot on the team.

Finally, Charlene broke the silence. "I believe you, Ginny, and I have no idea why these stuffed shirts don't. We're on the same birth control potion and we've taken it at the same time every morning since training camp."

"Thanks," Ginny said with a smile.

"Is that true?" asked Wendell, turning to the team trainer.

Beverly Carter nodded. "Every training day at eight-thirty, sir. We started it about three months ago when the team was selected, and I don't let them onto the pitch until they've taken it. I've got logs to prove it."

The man grunted and then excused everyone. Ginny shook her head, grateful for the ease of the meeting, yet fearing the next person she would have to confront: her mother.

Ginny appeared in the living room of the flat she shared with Harry and immediately spotted a pile of letters on the table. Knowing they would still be there if she ignored them, she crossed to the table. She chuckled briefly upon seeing the torn up bits of a Howler before taking the top one.

GINNY!

WHY AREN'T YOU HOME YET? ARE YOU IGNORING ME?



"If it were humanly possible to ignore you, I would." She dropped the first letter and took the second.

GINNY!

GET OVER HERE THE MOMENT YOU GET HOME!



"Sorry, I had other, more exciting plans," she muttered as the parchment fell to the floor.

Ginny–

I've read some disturbing news in the papers. Please tell me it isn't true. If it is, we'll work it out.

Mum



"At least she was on my side."

Below the letters was a collection of Daily Prophets, all with the same photograph that was taken in Spain. The headlines were variations of the ones she'd seen earlier. They still stung, especially the one that inferred that her parents had raised a wild child.

With a heavy sigh, she grabbed her bags and headed toward the kitchen to wash her clothes. The translated Spanish papers glared at her and she rolled her eyes as she threw them onto the worktop, hoping they would just vanish and all the stories would go away.

The crack of Apparation drew her attention, and Ginny prepared to face her mother.

"Ginny?" It was Harry.

"In the kitchen!"

She heard him toss his jacket onto a chair and kick off his shoes. The door to the kitchen swung open and Harry swooped down on her, wrapping his arms around her from behind.

"Mum sent a few letters, didn't she?" He kissed the base of her neck softly.

"Glad I missed the Howler, though." She turned around in his arms and kissed his lips quickly. "Can you write her back? She never yells at you."

"HA!" Harry laughed. "I'm not interfering."

She playfully swatted his shoulder. "You're in this up to your arms pits, too, Potter. But why would they think I was pregnant? We didn't talk about anything like that."

"Er, well, you may have, Ginny," Harry informed her. "Here, let me show you." He reached around her and grabbed the copy that bore the headline: Ginny Weasley–Pregnant!!

"Harry, what are you doing?"

"Just wait. Reverto," he said, waving his wand. The two of them watched as the letters rearranged themselves into their native Spanish.

She gasped. "But that can't be right. I told you I was embarrassed, not pregnant."

"Oh, it's right, Gin. You should have said Estoy avergonzada. I checked. Embarazada is pregnant."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Well, that's...unfortunate." She began to giggle, and soon, both she and Harry were having a good laugh over the whole thing.

"So...so are you ever going to tell me what it is you were so embarrassed about?"

"No!" she spat. "I...I can't." She tried to wiggle out of his one-armed embrace, but he was too strong. "Damn your Auror's strength! Let me go!"

He started laughing again and released her. Before she could say anything, he snatched her playbook out of her bag, opening it to where her doodle page lay.

"Harry! Give it back!"

He held it high over her head and she began jumping for it. "We're getting married. We're not supposed to have secrets." He put his free hand on her head and backed her into the cupboard and then turned from her.

She scowled and closed her eyes as she heard him unfold the parchment and felt the heat of embarrassment start at the base of her neck and inch its way toward her cheeks. When he didn't laugh, she opened her eyes and saw his boyish smile shining back at her.

"When did you start this?"

"Last year."

"And you add to it?"

"When I'm bored. Sometimes, I'd rather think about you than Quidditch. Go ahead. Tell me I'm stupid."

Instead, Harry leaned forward and kissed her tenderly, brushing his lips skilfully over hers. "You really must love me."

"I can't help it. You're a part of me."

"The sexiest part."

"Definitely."


Notes and translations:
1–I'm pregnant. Ginny's grammar is incorrect, and I wrote it that way intentionally to emphasise her lack of understanding of the language.
2–Weasley is a Bad Role-Model for Girls
3–Is it true, Ginny?
4–What did Harry say when you told him?
5–This is the end of your Quidditch career, isn't it?
6–Whore!
7–You are a whore!

Link to the Doodle Page...http://pics.livejournal.com/fics_ by_aj/pic/00011815
Reviews 9
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