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Meddlesome Mirrors | ||||||
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Category: Alternate Universe, Post-DH/AB Characters:Harry/Ginny, Neville Longbottom, Other, Ron Weasley Genres: Comedy, General, Humor, Romance Warnings: Mild Language Story is Complete Rating: PG-13 Reviews: 41 Summary: George’s new invention is about to blow open a few secrets. Hitcount: Story Total: 12639; Chapter Total: 3769 Author's Notes: Thanks to Cognitur for the beta! Lots of love to Aggiebell, without whom this would not exist. Sorry for the delay everyone, I got caught up in the Olympics. Thank you for all the kind words and support! |
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Monday * * * * * * George had been looking at her funny all morning and she could not, for the life of her, figure out what his problem was. It was enough to make her want to smack him upside the head every time he came round. Her nerves were already on edge as it was. She thought that after the trial she would calm down, but her anxiety just switched from worrying about what and how well she would do to what the Harpies had thought of her and whether she’d actually managed to earn herself a spot. The suspense was already killing her, and it had been less than two days. Ginny counted out the change for Rose Zeller and bagged her Canary Creams, Pygmy Puff Playhouse, and pale blue heart-shaped Cupid’s Compact, handing the parcel and the change over to the giggling girl. It was not as if this was the end-all-be-all for her. She still had trials with Puddlemere, Portee, the Arrows and the Magpies coming up before the season started. It was just that, this was the Holyhead Harpies. They had been her favorite team for as long as she could remember, her bastion of girl-power in a house-full of boys. The Harpies had been her proof positive that her brothers were full of it when they left her out of their games or claimed that girls couldn’t play as well as boys could. The Harpies were a strong, solid team that placed consistently well without having to rely on gimmicks or dirty tricks like the Falcons or, some would argue, the Tornados. But she was getting ahead of herself. She wasn’t a professional Quidditch player yet, as George had reminded her at least seven times since she came in this morning. Ginny rang up customer after customer until George came down from his flat with yet another box full of his patented mirrors and told her to take lunch. She picked up a sandwich at Café Enchante, a new business that had been opened by a friendly couple after they came back from hiding in France during the last year of the war. She settled into one of the chairs out on the cobblestone patio that overlooked Diagon Alley and sipped her pumpkin juice. It was remarkable how much had changed in the last year. The store-fronts were nearly all full again, people bustled about doing their shopping, groups of kids getting ready for Hogwarts were lingering at shop windows, Gringotts had been fully patched up. It was almost as if the war had never happened, and that was, strangely, a bit upsetting. This, after all, was what they all wanted, what they still wanted: for people to be able to go about their day without fear or persecution, a thriving community of wizards and witches from all backgrounds. But this shining picture, as wonderful and relieving as it was, still felt a bit out of place. There were no real scars here. Fortescue’s old shop was under new management; Ollivanders was up and running again. It was only a year and a bit after the worst period of her life, of so many people’s lives, and you’d never know it to look. It was all a bit jarring. Ginny finished her lunch and made her way back to her brother’s shop. She pushed open the door and saw George standing behind the counter looking back at her. He was holding up a large, fat, emerald green envelope. “Look what came to the house while you were at lunch? Mum just brought it over,” he said, waving the envelope back and forth. Her heart in her throat, Ginny made a grab for it but George reached up and held it over his head, teasing her. Wasting no time, Ginny pulled out her wand and pointed it at him. A small group of parents standing nearby gasped and clucked at the sibling’s behaviour but Ginny couldn’t have cared less. George knew better than to maintain the taunt now that Ginny had stuck her wand in his face. A few more seconds of lording it over her head (literally) was not worth the bat bogies that would undoubtedly result. He handed over the envelope and Ginny sunk onto the floor behind the counter, staring at it and it’s little gold seal. “Are you going to open it or are you just going to stare at it all day?” George asked as he rang up a group of teenaged wizards, stocking up on various banned items for the new school year. Ginny stuck her tongue out at her brother behind his back and resumed her examination of the envelope. There was her name, written neatly across the back in gold script. They said it could take up to a week, but here it was. She couldn’t tell if that was a good sign or a bad one. “Would you just open it?” George asked, completely exasperated, as he turned to look down at her. “You’ve gotten all you can get out of the envelope. You’re not going to know what it says until you open the stupid thing.” “It’s not stupid,” Ginny argued, not taking her eyes off of it. “It will be if the Harpies haven’t taken you on,” George returned, “won’t know until you open it.” “Fine. Opening it. A girl can’t savour a moment a little bit without someone jumping down her throat…” Ginny slid her finger under the flap and broke the seal. She slid the parchment out of the envelope and began to scan the letter. Later on Monday * * * * * * * The front door squawked as Harry entered Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. The store was always relatively quiet on Monday afternoons, but right now it was surprisingly empty. “I’ll be right with you!” He heard her call from the back. The butterflies redoubled their efforts. Butterflies weren’t even the term anymore for the tempest currently going on inside of him. Rampaging Hippogriffs would be more accurate. Maybe throw in the Whomping Willow and a dragon or two and it would be close to what he was feeling. What on earth was he going to say to her? “Sorry about that! Do you need any–“ Ginny bounced into the room. “Harry!” “Hi,” he squeaked out. “Hi! I–did you hear?” she asked. She was radiant, practically bubbling over. “Hear what?” He couldn’t help but smile, despite his nerves, the way she was bouncing in excitement before him. Suddenly she was launching herself at him. “I made the team! I’m playing for the Harpies!” Harry’s arms came around her as a laugh escaped him. Well, of course she made the team, what was she thinking of? Then it registered that Ginny was actually hugging him, her arms around him, her sweet flowery scent enveloping him. Normally this would have him stepping back, out of the embrace, but he was feeling far too giddy. She was too giddy and it was making him a little delirious. Or so he would claim. Her face was turned up to look at him. She was positively glowing with her news. Merlin, she was so beautiful. Before he could stop himself, his head ducked down and captured those smiling lips in his own. Her hands tightened their grip on his shoulders as she returned the kiss with fervour. Harry’s mind went blank as warmth spread through his whole body. Despite that, gooseflesh crawled up his back and down his arms as he pulled Ginny closer. After several more moments — or possibly several sunlit days–they pulled apart. “Brilliant,” he breathed, not entirely sure whether he meant the kiss or the news–maybe both. Her face flushed as she smiled at him. “Did you just?” “Kiss you?” he asked nervously. “Yes.” “Yeah?” “Just making sure.” She laughed. He laughed. “Ginny, I…” he started. “That’s really great news. I mean, I knew you would get it,” Harry finished instead, cringing at his own cowardice. “Thanks,” Ginny said, starting to pull back. Suddenly she looked uncertain. “Wait, I mean,” he tried again, keeping his arms circled around her to try and keep her from backing away anymore. This would be a lot easier, he thought, if he could just kiss her again. And then again whenever it got awkward and he was faced with actually having to explain to her that he’d been in love with her since he was sixteen. Somehow, though, he wasn’t sure that just kissing her would go over so well this time. “Harry, look, it’s alright, you don’t have to…” She backed up again, looking for a way out. “Yes I do. Please, I’m just… I’m really bad at this kind of thing,” he said, moving one arm from around her waist to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear for her. This froze her, and she stared at him with questioning eyes. Blushing, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his Cupid’s Compact. He popped it open and glanced at Ginny significantly before peering into the mirror. “Hello again, you gorgeous man. You’re looking quite fit.” Harry snapped the compact shut, blushing to the roots of his hair. Ginny was looking between him and the compact in shock. “You’re? But it’s my… and it’s your… then you?” she stuttered out intelligently. “It wasn’t telling me anything I didn’t already know,” he said, “I mean, in case you think…” “No, of course it didn’t, you’re well aware that you’re gorgeous and well fit,” she laughed. “That’s not what I meant!” he spluttered, laughing too. “Well, what did you mean then?” she pressed, looking at him with an arched brow. She wasn’t going to make this easy on him. “That I’ve… fancied you,” he cringed internally at the word that felt so inadequate, “ for a long time. I should have… done something or said something about it ages ago. I’ve just been scared and I didn’t want to screw it up because you’re… you’re really important to me, Gin.” Ginny took his face in her hands, her eyes blazing. She pulled his head down to hers and kissed him. “I never gave up on you, you know,” she said after they broke the kiss, “not really.” “What?” he asked, still feeling dazed, “but Hermione said…” Ginny rolled her eyes, smiling at him as she pulled out her own compact, bright emerald green, from inside her pocket. She flipped it open and brought it up to her face. “I love your freckles. I could just–“ Ginny snapped the mirror shut, chuckling at it. “That’s me,” Harry said, eyes wide, as he grinned like an idiot. “Of course it’s you, you smug bastard,” Ginny laughed, shaking her head. She smiled up at him. “Well, I do you know,” he said, smiling back. “Do what?” “Love your freckles.” * * * * * * End. |
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