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Newly and Happily Impervious to Gossip
By Kezzabear

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Category: Best Time of our Lives Challenge 2019-1, Best Time Of Our Lives Challenge (2019-1)
Genres: Fluff
Warnings: None
Story is Complete
Rating: G
Reviews: 10
Summary: ***Winner of Best Overall in the Best Time of our Lives Challenge*** HBP Missing Moment - but of course
Hitcount: Story Total: 4044

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.


Ginny crept carefully down the last few steps and poked her head around the corner, peering into the Gryffindor Common Room. The morning sun was beginning to find its way into the room, glinting off various gold accents and creating shafts of light that made it difficult to see who was there. Ginny squinted into some of the darker nooks of the circular room. There were a few people she wanted to avoid after the excitement of the last few days. She wouldn’t put it past Romilda to have slept in the Common Room so as to ambush her at first light.

Seeing only Neville, Ginny sighed with relief and, managing to catch her robes on the wall, or handrail, or possibly nothing, she all but tumbled onto the thick carpet, banging both elbows, one shoulder and her left knee on a bookshelf that was unhelpfully positioned next to the staircase.

“You okay, Ginny?” Neville had looked up from the parchment he’d been writing on and was staring at her with concern.

“Yes, grumbled Ginny. “Seriously who put that there?”

“It’s always been there,” Neville said with a grin. Ginny grimaced as she rubbed her knee before scrambling to her feet.

“It has not,” she protested, flexing both arms and wincing as her shoulder complained. Neville just shook his head and turned back to his parchment.

“You’re up early then,” Ginny said idly, throwing herself into an overstuffed armchair near the fireplace. The fire was barely alight, and Ginny debated whether to stoke it, the weather was warming up, but the nights were still fairly cool, and the sun had not yet warmed the Common Room.

“Bit of study to do,” Neville explained. “There’s a lot of snoring going on up there too.”

“Sorry about Ron,” Ginny said, not appearing very sorry at all. Neville shrugged.

“He’s all right,” Neville said, “although not for the first time, spiders wanted him to tap-dance at 2am. It’s Harry this time. Seriously loud.” Ginny frowned. She’d never heard Harry snore at The Burrow, but then Ron drowned out most things with his snoring. Harry once said he sounded like a freight train. Whatever that was.

“Does Harry often snore?”

“Not usually,” Neville shrugged, “but it’s been known to happen.” He turned back to his parchment, but Ginny could tell he wasn’t focused on it at all. She braced herself, waiting for his questions.

“He’s very happy,” Neville said after a while. He looked up, catching Ginny’s gaze. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him happier.” Ginny felt her face grow warm and turned towards the fireplace, grabbing the poker and giving the subdued embers a few hearty pokes. A few sparks flew up the chimney and the red glow intensified. When Ginny looked up again Neville was studiously writing on his parchment.

“Most people ask me things,” Ginny murmured. “Things about Harry. No one cared about me and Michael or Dean.”

“What sort of things do they ask?” Neville abandoned the pretence of studying and put his quill back in the ink pot, leaning back with his hands laced behind his head.

“Well, Romilda has a new question every time I see her,” Ginny began. “And I think she’s stalking me — she keeps popping up! Have we snogged in the Astronomy Tower? Does his hair ever lie flat? How good a kisser is he? Do I think his scar is sexy? Does he have any other scars? Does his wand match the size of … other things?” Neville snorted.

“A Hufflepuff cornered me yesterday morning,” Ginny continued. “Wanted to know his favourite food. Some crazy Ravenclaw wanted me to do a compatibility test — what a Ravenclaw is doing with a dodgy love test thing I do not know! Last night some random Slytherin wanted to know which love potion I was using — so I hexed her. As far as I can tell Snape hasn’t found out yet, but it’s only a matter of time.”

“Well, you wanted to go out with a celebrity,” Neville said in a passable impersonation of Rita Skeeter. “You should probably expect all sorts of enquiries about your love life and the famous Harry Potter, having won the heart of our brave hero!” Ginny threw a cushion at his head.

“I mean you could have had me,” Neville continued, batting the cushion away. “But alas, ‘twas not to be.” Ginny felt a pang of guilt and it must have shown on her face because Neville hastily smiled, adding that he wasn’t upset.

“Oh,” Ginny said leaning forward, “you’ve got someone else in mind?” Neville blushed but didn’t say anything although his parchment was again subject to intense gaze.

“Fine, don’t tell me then,” Ginny said, leaning back and attempting to prod the embers with the poker from her supine position. “I’ll ask Harry. He’ll tell me everything he knows.” Neville looked up, horrified, and Ginny laughed. “Don’t worry he’s completely oblivious. I bet he doesn’t know anything!” The poker stubbornly refused to reach the grate and Ginny sat up with a sigh, thrusting the poker vigorously into the fireplace before reaching for another piece of wood and throwing it onto the embers.

“Luna’s a good sort,” Ginny said casually, eyeing Neville out the corner of her eye. “She hasn’t asked me anything more personal than whether or not I’ve seen any furples since Harry and I have been, well …”

“Going out?” supplied Neville helpfully. Ginny felt herself blushing again.

“I don’t even know what a furple is,” Ginny went on, avoiding Neville’s gaze, “and are we going out? It’s been maybe two days?” Ginny knew how long it had been since she’d kissed Harry after the Quidditch match (one day, sixteen hours and approximately 37 minutes) yet it came out like a question.

“What else would you call it?” Neville queried, abandoning all pretence of writing on his now crumpled parchment.

“Well I would,” Ginny said, “but does Harry?” She cast her mind back over the last two days. A long walk by the lake where Ginny told Harry about every single play of the match before they kissed until both their stomachs rumbled, followed by Ron shadowing them all over Gryffindor Tower until lights out. Then a brilliant day which Ginny now referred to as Snogging Sunday where Harry’s Invisibility cloak came in mighty handy. A number of meals eaten with one hand, the other entwined with Harry’s under the table, and a stint in the library where Hermione shushed everyone with a zeal greater than that of Madame Pince. There hadn’t been much … talking.

“Course he does,” said Neville, trying to pick up the abandoned cushion with his foot and failing miserably and kicking it dangerously close to the fireplace. “I mean he hasn’t said much, but he didn’t correct Seamus when he said it.”

“Seamus?” Ginny wrinkled her nose. “What’s Seamus been saying?” Neville rolled his eyes expressively.

“He has got to be the biggest gossip in Gryffindor Tower!”

“Really? Seamus?” Ginny shook her head. “Not Lavender Brown or Romilda Vane? You think Seamus is the biggest gossip in Gryffindor Tower?” Neville nodded.

“You think what the girls ask you about Harry is bad,” he said idly. “You should have seen the spellfire when Seamus asked about your, erm … assets.” Neville suddenly went a deep red. Ginny raised one eyebrow.

“Harry didn’t answer,” Neville said hastily, “but Seamus barely came out of it with his life!”

“Harry hexed him?” Ginny asked.

“Nah,” Neville shrugged. “He got caught in the crossfire when Dean did answer him, and Ron tried to levitate him by one leg. All Ron managed to do was shoot some blue sparks out the end of his wand.”

“What did Harry do then?” Ginny asked, full of curiosity.

“Shield charm,” Neville shrugged. Ginny rolled her eyes.

“Not which spell did he do,” she sighed, “what did he do about Seamus’ gossip?”

“I dunno,” Neville furrowed his brow, “something about how he wouldn’t be talking about his girlfriend to us idiotic lot — and then Ron groaned why did Harry have to say girlfriend and that’s when Seamus’ head finally fully caught fire.”

“Boys,” Ginny sighed. Neville grinned. Inside Ginny’s chest the word girlfriend rolled around like a pygmy puff doing somersaults making her want to skip all the way down to breakfast. A noise on the staircase made them both turn towards the sound. Hermione descended the stairs with a great deal more grace than Ginny had done sometime earlier.

“I’m so pleased you’re taking the study schedule seriously,” she exclaimed. “This extra two hours is going to be so productive!” Ginny groaned.

“I’m not up to study,” she said hastily. “I couldn’t sleep so I figured I may as well get up and have an early breakfast before, you know, everyone else gets there.” Hermione looked concerned.

“Why aren’t you sleeping?” she questioned. “Are you coming down with something? Do you need to see Madame Pomfrey? The last thing you need is to get sick right before your exams, and you don’t want to give it to Harry!”

“I’m not sick,” Ginny said. “Calm down. I’m just … I keep thinking …” She trailed off a warm little thrill as she thought of Harry coursing through her chest, joining the bouncing pygmy puff. Hermione smirked.

“About Harry?”

“Yeah,” Ginny sighed. Hermione giggled. Neville stared at them.

“Girls,” he muttered, gathering up his parchment and quills and stuffing them into his book bag which was hooked over the arm of his chair.

“Everybody’s talking about you two, you know,” Hermione said. “Hannah Abbott thinks it’s the most romantic thing she’s ever heard of.”

“Hannah?” Neville asked, the tips of his ears red.

“Yes,” Hermione nodded in his direction, “of course she’s heard the embellished version where Harry, looking as dashing as the heroes in all those ridiculous romance novels Parvati and Lavender read, enters the portrait hole to find Ginny, not at all sweaty from the game, backlit by the setting sun — even though it was barely past lunchtime — holding the Quidditch Cup and breathlessly dedicating it to Harry, who swoops her up — Cup and all — before kissing her and, summoning his broom, and they fly out of Gryffindor Tower and over the Lake.” Ginny rolled her eyes.

“Those windows don’t even open properly,” Neville murmured. “You wouldn’t get a broom, two people and the Quidditch Cup out of them!”

“Well Hannah won’t be talking about how romantic you are anytime soon,” Ginny said, trying not to laugh. Neville looked startled.” Don’t worry, I’ll put in a good word.” Ginny giggled as she skipped off to the portrait hole. Hermione scurried after her.

“You really aren’t going to study?”

“Nah,” Ginny said as she started to climb out of the portrait hole. “I’m hungry. I think it’s all the kissing.” She left Hermione gaping at her as she lightly ran down the stairs, barley feeling the thick stone under her feet. This was the best feeling in the world. She was Harry Potter’s girlfriend — he’d even said so. She didn’t care that people were talking about her and Harry. Let them talk, this was the best thing in the world!


Ginny had eaten a plate of scrambled eggs, three pieces of toast and a bowl of cereal before anyone joined her in the Great Hall for breakfast, so early had she been. She was deciding between a muffin and another piece of toast when Ron sat down heavily on the bench next to her, reaching for a slice of toast as he mumbled a good morning at her.

“You’re up early,” Ginny commented, selecting a perfectly toasted slice of bread and searching for the pot of marmalade.

“Bloody Harry,” Ron complained. “Snoring louder than Hagrid.”

“Louder than you, then?”

“I don’t snore.”

“You do!” Ginny snorted indelicately. “Normally you can’t even hear Harry snoring over your buzzing.”

“Here, what are you doing listening to us sleep?” Ron protested; he pointed his butter knife at her. “That’s creepy, that is.”

“Have you even lived at our house?” Ginny asked, rolling her eyes and shoving the butter knife away. “Walls thinner than paper!” Ron grunted and shoved an entire piece of toast in his mouth.

“Y’ettaeegutam,” he said, waving the butter knife pointedly. Ginny screwed up her face as several crumbs flew out of his mouth and landed on the table. “Nffncreey!”

“You’re gonna get Creevey?” Ginny asked, perplexed. “What exactly do you have against Colin anyway? He’s not that bad!” Ron swallowed.

“I’m not talking about Creevey!” he said exasperatedly. “I’m talking about creepy!”

“Who’s being creepy?”

“You are, listening to Harry and I sleep!”

“I do not listen to you sleep!”

“Yeah well, don’t,” Ron said, reaching for the scrambled eggs. “It’s creepy.” Ginny sighed. Clearly trying to talk to her brother before he had eaten was quite the error of judgement and yet she had made it even after knowing him so long. Probably because she was thinking about Harry. A dreamy smile crept over her face and she knew she probably looked foolish but couldn’t find it in her to care. She sighed happily.

“Shtoppit.” Ron sounded pained as he shovelled scrambled eggs into his mouth.

“Stop what?” Ginny poured herself a glass of pumpkin juice and waved it questioningly at Ron. He gestured towards his goblet before swallowing.

“That look!” Ron exclaimed. “That look on your face. I know what you’re thinking about and I don’t like it!”

“What am I thinking about, Ron?” Ginny taunted, holding her goblet so that it only partially hid her smile. He scowled at her.

“You know,” Ron grumbled.

“Know what?” Ginny asked with feigned innocence, taking a sip from her goblet. Ron only groaned and stabbed viciously at a piece of bacon.

“My. Best. Friend.” Ron stabbed at his plate, punctuating each word with the sound of his fork spearing rashers of bacon. Ginny eyed him warily for a moment as a few more students trickled into the Great Hall.

“You don’t get to say who I … go out with,” Ginny said, experimenting with the phrase and feeling a warm bubbly feeling swell up from her toes.

“But why Harry?” Ron whined. Ginny felt like whacking him with her serviette. She nearly did. Restraining herself with everything she possessed, Ginny managed to calmly place the serviette and her half-full goblet beside her plate and turned her whole body deliberately towards her brother.

“Because I like Harry, and Harry likes me,” she said patiently, “and you’re not the boss of us.” Ron looked at her and sighed.

“Fine,” he muttered. “He’s a right sight better than Michael or Dean at any rate. Tossers.” Ginny rolled her eyes and picked up her goblet again. She’d barely taken a sip when Hermione appeared in front of them, carrying a sheaf of parchment, at least three textbooks and several quills. She dropped her burden on the table and sat down in a flurry of parchment and robes.

“You really should finish your breakfast,” Hermione lectured. “You’re missing valuable study time. There’s still an hour before classes start.”

“Fantastic,” said a deep voice at Ginny’s elbow. She looked up as Harry reached past her to snag a stack of toast. “Let’s go for a walk before classes.” He grabbed Ginny’s hand and tugged gently, his green eyes sparkling and a sexy grin on his face. Ginny nearly melted through the floor but managed to pull herself together enough to stumble out behind him, ignoring the whispers that followed them out of the Great Hall along with Hermione’s rather more shrill admonition about distractions and examinations.


“Ev eryone’s talking about us,” Ginny said as she and Harry wandered down to the lake. “Do you mind?” Harry just smiled and squeezed her hand. Ginny raised one eyebrow to reiterate the question.

“Nah,” Harry said casually, stopping and spinning her until she was nestled snugly in his arms. Ginny melted into him and Harry looked down at her. “Don’t care.”

“Not even a little bit?”

“Nope.” Ginny giggled as Harry began to tickle her neck with his nose. She swatted him away and pulled back a little.

“I — well, I said — to Ron, that we’re going out.” Ginny waited, holding her breath, needing to hear it from Harry himself.

“Mmmmmhmmmm,” Harry murmured as he nuzzled her neck. “We are, and he’ll get used to it. We’ve only got a few more minutes before we have to get ready for classes. Less talking about Ron, more kissing Harry.” He pulled back and gave Ginny a roguish grin and she laughed before he captured her mouth with his own.

Well at least now she was sure, Ginny thought as she lost herself in the kiss. Romilda could ask whatever she wanted, Ginny decided, she was definitely going out with Harry Potter and the gossips could talk about it all they wanted (even Seamus).

Ginny didn’t care about their gossip; she was Harry Potter’s girlfriend. And he was an excellent kisser.

Reviews 10

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