I wrote this chapter between tears of laughter XD
I am sorry if any LGTBQ+ people think Dave's character is badly done. I am a big advocate of diversity but I had not written something like this before.
Lyrics are of course from Gloria Gaynor's I will survive.
Kudos and thanks to Floreatcastellum, who is a fantastic Brit picker. I know you said teenagers are not given The Talk, but I could not resist the temptation.
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What Really Matters | ||||||
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Category: Post-DH/AB Characters:Harry/Ginny Genres: Comedy, Fluff, Humor Warnings: Mild Language, Mild Sexual Situations, Negative Alcohol Use Story is Complete Rating: R Reviews: 34 Summary: ¨What matters here is that you and I will get bonded for life, and we´ll get to share the moment with the people we love¨ This is the story of Harry and Ginny´s wedding, a spin-off from my first fic, That Look In Your Eyes. Fun, bantering, surprises and a lot of laughs. Hitcount: Story Total: 19870; Chapter Total: 2163 Awards: View Trophy Room Author's Notes: |
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Diva Dave Merlin. Diva Dave! It had been ages since the last time Ginny had seen him, no wonder she had not recognised him. David Buhle, a Muggleborn wizard four years her senior, had been at Hogwarts, sorted into Ravenclaw, and was the most accomplished singer the school choir had had in decades. At the Yule Ball, tipped off by Flitwick, the Weird Sisters had invited him to the stage; he had literally taken possession of it, discarded the silk black robes he wore and revealed a red gown under them. He then proceeded to execute a heartfelt rendition of Charm My Breath Away in a duet with Myron Wagtail, followed by a Muggle song called What’s Love Got To Do With It that Donaghan Tremlett, also a Muggleborn, accompanied with his bass. At first, only those Muggle raised sang along, but they eventually got the audience dancing and cheering, including the faculty and a slightly tipsy Madame Pince. Buhle had graduated with honours at the end of that year amidst rumours that he was going to be the next Celestina Warbeck, but nobody in the wizarding world had heard from him since the first months of the war. Looking at him in the flesh was like seeing someone being brought back from death. “Merlin’s. Saggy. Balls. David- Davinia, oh my God! I’m so pleased to meet you again! You were my idol at Hogwarts! I thought you had left the country, or…” “Shhh, let’s sit down, we can’t have this conversation aloud,” said Dave, gesturing at their surroundings. He and Luna sat down at the table. “Can’t fit a wand in this dress, if you’re so kind, Luna…” “Yes, of course.” She drew her wand surreptitiously and soon a Muffliato dimmed the noise of the club. “Is that the new spell you told me?” he asked. Luna nodded. “Hmm. Nice one.” “Dave, what happened to you? Nobody’s seen you in ages. And how did you meet Luna?” asked Hermione. “Oh, that one’s easy. St. Mungo’s just two streets away,” said Dave. Luna, who had been drinking her cocktail, smacked her lips in appreciation and nodded. “I was wandering around one night after visiting my father. He had been rescued the day before and was still very fragile. The Healers didn’t want to bet on his recovery. I felt very lonely and depressed, and I was just walking with no direction. Dave found me and recognised me from the school. We had been friends back there.” “Birds of a feather,” laughed Dave. “We were different from the rest, and that brought us together despite the age gap. I’ve been the odd one all my life. From well before getting my Hogwarts letter, I knew I was special. I loved to put on my mother’s makeup, wearing her shoes, pretending to be the star in a show... My father would punish me if he found me with her things, so I learned to hide them; sometimes accidental magic helped. It’s a good thing it was McGonagall who delivered my letter.” Ginny nodded. She could imagine how a formal, tight and severe-looking witch would have impressed David’s parents far more than little, squeaky Flitwick or decidedly ambiguous Dumbledore. She smiled at Dave. “Bet your parents thought Hogwarts would transform you into something like her.” “And they weren’t mistaken. I Transfigured my uniform trousers into skirts as soon as I learned how to do it.” The table exploded in laughter. “Between my two peculiarities, they thought being magical was the least problematical, and certainly McGonagall represented the type of strict, old fashioned education they thought I needed. And actually, it was exactly what helped me to develop my personality and skills. No one looked twice at my skirts or the colourful robes I used on weekends. McGonagall told me that as long as I attended classes wearing standard uniform pieces, stayed out of trouble and my class work was satisfactory, I could do what I wanted. Dumbledore had long conversations with me about diversity. At school, both straight and homosexual couples were perfectly normal. And dear old Flitwick, God bless him, discovered my talent at singing and recruited me for the choir. Plus, he was living proof that you can be different and still be respected and successful. Hogwarts was the first place where I could really be me, my first home.” “But every embroidered picture has an ugly backside, hasn’t it?” Luna observed, stirring her cocktail. Dave sighed. “Always spot on, Luna. Wizarding society isn’t free of prejudice. I was Muggleborn, and as such, some people hated me, specially that year when the Chamber of Secrets stuff happened.” Ginny lowered her eyes. Dave noticed and called her attention by snapping her fingers in front of her. “Hey, you! I don’t give a shit about your role in the story. As far as I’m concerned, you were a victim, just like I easily could have become one.” Ginny scrunched her face. “I still don’t have to like it.” “I know, dear, but you survived, didn’t you? That’s what counts. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. We four at this table, are the product of conflict and resilience. I could have died in the war, but I chose to hide in the Muggle world, and help others. This club was a convenient place to smuggle people, before going to safe houses or abroad.” “But the war’s over now, don’t you want to return to wizarding world? At Hogwarts, everyone said you were destined for something big,” Hermione said. “Her Upstairs is my home now, dear, and that’s big enough for me.” He smiled and looked at the stage, smiling fondly at the showmen. “They’re my family. It’s where I can be mostly me by day, and a different character every night.” “But you can’t do magic around them, can you? Don’t you miss it?” Ginny said. Dave shrugged. “I can do magic at home, though it pisses Jules off, because the TV goes on and off; and I can’t pick up the cell phone, it goes flat,” he laughed. “Jules found me one day doing my laundry by magic. I had forgotten to cast the Muggle-Repelling. There I was, having a great time singing and charming the clothes to hang and iron themselves when I turned around, and there Jules was, white as a sheet, eyes popping out of their sockets.” Dave chuckled at the memories, and the three witches joined him. “Nearly had a stroke, the poor thing, until I explained that I was harmless and that there was a choice between going on as if nothing had happened or having me Obliviate the memories. Chose the first option and it’s made my life easier.” “When you say easier, what do you mean?” Hermione asked. “See, I haven’t given up on the whole magical stuff. Once Jules knew, owls could find me at home, and that meant I could get a subscription to the Prophet, for instance. That’s how I knew about the elections the Ministry held after the war. Nobody recognised me because I went like David Buhle, not Davinia or Dave. I voted for Shacklebolt, I wanted to do my bit for our world, even if I’m not living in it. And now that peace has finally come, and a lot of Muggleborn are returning, I definitely want to keep in touch with the people I knew. But I’m not going to be the next Celestina, because I am Davinia, and this is the place I want to be.” Ginny nodded in agreement. An idea formed in her mind. “Dave… would you be opposed to the idea of attending my birthday party tomorrow? No compromises, of course, but McGonagall, Flitwick, plenty of people you met at school are invited. Would you like to join us? It’s Harry’s belated birthday party, too, but he won’t mind. The more the merrier.” Dave beamed for a moment, but then looked down. “Fridays are busy here. I have to be ready at nine… unless… would you mind if I leave early?” “Course not, Dave. Portkey invitations will activate at four o’clock, I’ll send yours tomorrow. You can use the Floo from home or Disapparate out of the wards anytime you need. Oh, and don’t worry about gifts. We’re asking people to bring only food and drinks.” “You’re so sweet, dear, but if I’m going, it’s on the condition that if Davinia wants to sing as a gift to you, you will shut up and allow her, are we clear?” Dave winked at Ginny, and then, glancing over his shoulder, said “Looks like I should be getting ready to go up the stage. You three, enjoy your cocktails, I hope you’ll like my show. Luna, will you want to join me if I call you on stage?” Luna’s face lit up with joy. “Ohh, like that time over Christmas? It was fun!” “The very same song. Tonight calls for good old Gloria.” And getting up, he gave the three witches a wink and a little bow, before slipping away to the backstage. “It’s nice of you to invite Dave to your wedding, Ginny. He will be able to reconnect with old acquaintances. It’s a pity he doesn’t want a career in the magical world, but at least this will help him to get in touch,” Hermione said. “He’s happier here,” said Luna. “I’ve been at this club several times since the night Dave found me, and I saw how they all care for one another; they’re like a big family. And this one hasn’t let him down like his real one did, so it’s no wonder he’s keeping loyal to them.” Ginny nodded. “Who can blame him? He’s right; this is the place where he can be mostly him. I just thought he would like to meet some folk tomorrow, and I really liked his performance at the Yule Ball; if he’s willing to sing too, I’m not going to say no,” she said, sipping from his cocktail. “Harry missed Dave’s performance at the Ball, he was out with Ron, avoiding both Percy and their dancing duties,” observed Hermione. “I missed it too,” said Luna. “Nobody over fourth year invited me, so I saw no point in staying over Christmas break and returned home with Daddy. Harry was the first person who invited me to a party, as friends, in my fifth year. He has always been nice to me; I’m happy you two are getting married. Looking forward to have your relationship intensified by the Bond, are you?” “The Bond? Do you believe that it exists?” Ginny asked. “Wasn’t that an old witches’ tale, the magic of the Bond making your love eternal? It’s not as if divorce does not exist in the magical world,” Hermione pointed. “Oh, but those couples shouldn’t have married in the first place. The Bond does not make miracles, nor erases all troubles or difficulties, but when the love is authentic, it makes sure you will eventually overcome them,” insisted Luna. “I’m sorry, Luna, but it still sounds like an old tale to me-“ “Don’t you want to marry Ron someday? Are you afraid the love between both of you is not authentic?” said Luna with genuine concern etched in her features. “That’s not… I didn’t mean… of course I want to!” spluttered Hermione. Ginny choked in the middle of sipping her drink. She swallowed hard. “Do you? Really? Would you marry my prat of a brother?” Hermione scowled to her. “Ginny, I think it’s high time you stopped calling your brother-“ “Do not try to understand siblings rivalry, Hermione,” said Ginny making an impatient hand gesture. “You know perfectly well that I love my brother. Just sort of, well, not all of the time. But do you love him enough to marry? See that big head of his everyday on the pillow beside you?” It was difficult to tell in the dim light of the club, but Ginny could have sworn Hermione Jean Granger was blushing to the roots of her hair. However, her pride was greater than her embarrassment: she lifted her chin and announced, “Yes, I would, because he loves me and I’m sure he would do anything to make me happy… and I want to make him happy, too.” “Wow, maybe this cocktail has more booze in it than I thought,” said Ginny, lifting her glass and sniffing it. Hermione looked scandalised. “I’m not drunk!” “I’ll be the judge of that,” stated Ginny. “So tell us, Granger, who’s going to propose? I’m assuming it will be you, since I don’t think my dear brother has the guts to drop on one knee. We all know it was you who went for him first time you kissed; has he at least been brave enough to tell you the three little words? Go on, spill.” “Well, if you must know, actually he was the first to say ‘I love you’. Without any doubt or embarrassment, by the way. And I have to say, your brother is not afraid of declaring his feelings for me… quite frequently and passionately. So yes, he is the person I see myself sharing my life with.” “Sweet Merlin,” whispered an amazed Ginny, but then she recovered promptly. “Now, I’m not saying I’m not thrilled to get you as sister-in-law, but Hermione, you can have whoever you want! What makes Ron so special?” A smile tugged at the corners of Hermione’s mouth. “Do you really want to know?” “Maybe he’s an incredible lover,” piped up Luna. “He has Prewett genes, proclivity is granted, although that doesn’t guarantee a fine dexterity,” said Ginny dismissively. Hermione snorted in a very unladylike manner and reached for her glass. “I haven’t drunk enough to have this conversation. All you need to know is that I love Ron Weasley precisely for the reasons that I refuse to consider any of the people these days who surround us, attracted by our fame. Because he met me well before all this started, before the war, the medals, the Ministry career. He’s been with me through thick and thin, has been at my lowest and my best moments. He sees me like I really am.” “He also left you, Hermione. And you two have rows every other day. The fact that he’s my brother doesn’t blind me-“ “But he came back,” said Hermione fiercely. “He returned to me, and begged for forgiveness, and fought by my side. He saved our lives. And yeah, we are both stubborn, prideful people who are possibly doomed to a lifetime of bickering, but he also respects me and treats me like I’m the most incredible thing that has ever happened to him. And-“ Hermione stopped mid-sentence, lifted her cocktail, drank a long gulp from it, stared up again at Ginny and Luna, and proclaimed, “he likes… no, he loves my hair.” At this, Luna nodded as if all the clues had been suddenly revealed, while Ginny could only stammer “Hair?- what’s… hair got to do with it?” “Sshhh, not now. Davinia’s up!” said Luna, turning to face the stage, where a radiant Davinia had appeared and was greeting the audience: clearly, hers was the performance everyone was waiting for. She immediately engaged in conversation with the public, making them laugh and clap at her jokes. At one point, she looked down at the table where the three witches sat. “Tonight, my dear friends, I want to honour those who have survived. And nobody like great old Gloria to do so. Let’s go!” Music blared from loudspeakers, and Davinia sang: At first I was afraid, I was petrified Kept thinking I could never live without you by my side But then I spent so many nights thinking how you did me wrong And I grew strong And I learned how to get along And so you're back From outer space I just walked in to find you here with that sad look upon your face I should have changed that stupid lock, I should have made you leave your key If I'd known for just one second you'd be back to bother me Go on now, go, walk out the door Just turn around now 'Cause you're not welcome anymore Weren't you the one who tried to hurt me with goodbye Do you think I'd crumble Did you think I'd lay down and die? The whole club was standing up, cheering and singing along. Davinia stopped singing, keeping the music on, and asked the audience, “Now dearies, it’s your turn! Tell me, what have you survived? Tell me now!” Ginny did not know what to make of the song. The lyrics seemed to refer to a breakup between lovers, but at the same time, she felt that there was more to it than it transpired. And certainly people felt the same way too, because encouraged by the song, a man in the next table raised his arms and said “I survived bullying!”. Everybody cheered him. At the farthest corner, a woman cried “I survived cancer!”, and she got the loudest ovation. “Well, that’s good of you! You. Do. Deserve. The. Best!!!” said Davinia, evidently in her element. “Now I want you to join me while I sing this ode to survival. Every one of you, feel free to come on stage, but first, there’s one friend of mine who has survived a real war and tonight I ’d like to have her here by my side. Everybody, please greet my friend Luna!” And Ginny, astonished, saw Luna rising from her seat and walking up the stairs up the stage without a hint of indecision or shyness, between applause from the rest of tables. She took another one of those tools Muggles used instead of a Sonorus Charm and spoke to it. “Hi, people of Her Upstairs! Let’s chirp together!” And everyone at once joined Davinia and Luna singing the next lines: Oh no, not I, I will survive Oh, as long as I know how to love, I know I'll stay alive I've got all my life to live And I've got all my love to give and I'll survive I will survive, hey, hey It took all the strength I had not to fall apart Kept trying hard to mend the pieces of my broken heart And I spent oh-so many nights just feeling sorry for myself I used to cry But now I hold my head up high and you see me Somebody new I'm not that chained-up little person and still in love with you And so you felt like dropping in and just expect me to be free Well, now I'm saving all my lovin' for someone who's loving me! The audience was wild, nobody was sitting down; they were all jumping and singing the song in collective joy. Ginny even saw tears running down some faces: the words must have been meaningful for them. And then the audience cried even louder. Go on now, go, walk out the door Just turn around now 'Cause you're not welcome anymore Weren't you the one who tried to break me with goodbye Do you think I'd crumble Did you think I'd lay down and die? Oh no, not I, I will survive Oh, as long as I know how to love, I know I'll stay alive I've got all my life to live And I've got all my love to give and I'll survive I will survive!!!!!! With the crowd now completely devoted, Davinia addressed Ginny and Hermione again. “Come on, my friends! Aren’t you survivors too? I know you are! Get up here and tell us!” And at this, to Ginny’s great shock, Hermione, former Head Girl, worker at one of the most uptight Ministry departments, the same witch who had given the word formality a new meaning, drained her cocktail, grabbed Ginny’s hand, who could do nothing but tag along, and made her way up onto the stage. “Ladies and gentlemen, please greet Ginny and Hermione! Let’s go!” And oh, how they sang, even if Ginny did not know the lyrics like Luna and Hermione clearly did. But they were now repeating the same lines, and soon enough she was delivering the chorus along with the rest. Go on now, go, walk out the door Just turn around now 'Cause you're not welcome anymore Weren't you the one who tried to break me with goodbye Do you think I'd crumble Did you think I'd lay down and die? Oh no, not I, I will survive Oh, as long as I know how to love, I know I'll stay alive I've got all my life to live And I've got all my love to give and I'll survive I will survive I will survive!!!! This is really cathartic, Ginny thought; she was reminded of those dark days after the Chamber, when she had vowed to herself not to let it ruin her life, when she had sworn to grow stronger so no Tom could ever hurt her again. Do you think I'd crumble… did you think I'd lay down and die? No! Of course, I wouldn’t! I survived! I DID SURVIVE! In the heat of the moment, she did not notice that she had actually spoken the last words aloud until Davinia clapped her in the back and asked her “Yes, Ginny! And what did you survive, tell us!!!” “I survived Tom! We defeated him! And we WON! Take that, Tom!” “FUCK TOM!” Davinia cried. The audience went wild, between cheers and applause. At her side, Hermione grabbed the Sonorus thing and raising her fist, declared to the crowd: “Fuck Tom! And fuck bloody Bellatrix! I survived her!” I should get Hermione drunk more often, was Ginny’s last wild thought before the stage was flooded with people, all jumping, singing, and hugging them. Of one thing she was sure: she would never swap this moment of shared joy, empowerment and victory, for a thousand naked men. oooOOOooo “And please, no matter how much you want to, never be the first to initiate anything, you know, physical. Let her lead the way, that will show how much you respect her,” said Harry, draining his glass. “Well, that’s rich coming from you, isn’t it, Mr. Snogged My Sister in front of the whole damned Gryffindor Tower,” said Ron sarcastically, snatching the bottle to refill the glasses. Neville groaned and took another big swig from his drink. “Bloody hell, guys, let a man breathe. I don’t need to be taught like a toddler-“ Harry interrupted him, addressing Ron again. “Hey, I wasn’t really thinking, that day after the match. She ran to me and her eyes were blazing and everyone was cheering and I suppose the adrenaline rush made me do it, and I’m lucky she felt that way too because if she hadn’t, I could have ended with giant bats flying out of my nose… or worse.” Harry was reminded of Zabini’s fate and shuddered. “I think you know it, but rest assured: nobody could make Ginny do something she doesn’t want to and live to tell the tale.” “Six older brothers, remember? We had to make sure she knew how to care for herself. Clearly succeeded.” Ron raised his glass in a toast to himself. “I don’t know if you can take all the credit, but she certainly could defend herself, that year under the Carrows’ regime proved it,” said Neville quietly. “And the months after, too,” said Harry. “Don’t forget that Easter Hogsmeade trip, in her seventh year. The place was swarming with Aurors, yet if it weren’t for her, that scum would have got away. I was so fucking proud of her-“ “Yeah, I could tell. If I hadn’t turned up, you two would’ve become a pair of eels, the way you were looking at each other.” Harry smirked. “Could’ve got yourself lost, don’t you think? You only delayed us getting back together.” “I know, mate, but Hermione’s bet was for a summer reconciliation, and I wanted to help her win. Should’ve known better than betting against my mother, I reckon,” said Ron, scowling. “She really gets us all. Frightening really, if you stop to think about it.” “Nah, your mum’s great,” said Harry. Being the closest thing to a mother he had known, she could do no wrong, in his opinion. Even if she had firm beliefs about propriety that could be a little inconvenient, given the fact that he was dating her daughter and ways to circumvent such expected proper behaviour were very much welcomed. Welcomed by Ginny even more than me, he thought, chuckling to himself. “You only say that ‘cos you’re her favourite son, git,” said Ron, ruffling Harry’s hair, who protested and tried to get away. “I’m not! I can’t be, at least not until tomorrow. After the wedding, I will be legally her son-in-law… and hey, we will become brothers! Aren’t you excited, future bro?” “Of course, I am,” said Ron dismissively, “I will never have to share my bedroom again. Or at least,” he smirked evilly, “not with you.” “You can’t stop rubbing that on my face, can you? I love your parents, but really, they are a little bit old fashioned, with their issues about keeping the door open and not letting unmarried couples sleep together. You’re so lucky,” sighed Harry, “Hermione’s parents are so understanding.” Ron shifted in his seat, looking uncomfortable all of a sudden. “Yeah, well… they had to be, didn’t they?” He grinned sheepishly at his friends. “It was a question of… practicality, more than understanding, really. And trust me, at first, way too much embarrassing to enjoy it.” Harry and Neville looked at each other with a baffled expression. “Mate, I don’t think we follow you,” said the latter. Ron leaned back in his seat and ran a hand through his hair. “It all happened in Australia. We were staying at her parents’ house, she was to sleep in the spare bedroom, and they made up a bed for me on the sofa. I knew Hermione wasn’t sleeping well, due to the anxiety caused by the search of her parents and the reunion; she used to wake up several times during the night, and seek me; if I woke up, too, I pulled her into my arms and went back to sleep.” “Yeah, ‘sleep’,” chuckled Harry. Ron glowered at him. “Believe what you want, git. So, I was telling, that first night at their house what awakened us were her screams. She was having a nightmare, a bad one… you know.” Ron made a meaningful gesture, and Harry understood; Malfoy Manor still weighed heavily. “When her parents appeared in her bedroom, I was already there hugging her, and let me tell you, it was awkward as hell, but eventually they let me stay in her bedroom, because it soon transpired that it was the best solution.” “You could’ve brewed a potion, cast a privacy spell. Didn’t you think about that? Or did you conveniently forgot?” Neville asked, arching an eyebrow. “Very funny, Longbottom. I will pretend the Firewhisky’s talking for you-“ “It could talk for all of us, really, the bottle’s gone,” pointed Harry helpfully. “Open another, then. And no, Neville, we bloody well couldn’t do magic, since her parents were afraid of it because they thought that magic was what had gotten us in that situation: in the far side of the world, careers interrupted, their memories erased and just recovered, and oh, luckily they got her daughter back, with only two years lost, a bunch of scars and a proclivity to scream every night because she dreamt she was being tortured again. They felt like I, a stranger, knew their own daughter better than them.” Silence fell between them. “Sorry, mate, didn’t know,” muttered Neville. Ron shrugged. “It’s all right, you couldn’t.” “I can see why you say it wasn’t an enjoyable experience,” said Harry, opening the second Firewhisky bottle in an attempt to dispel the suddenly sombre mood. “Way too much uncomfortable.” Ron grimaced. “Oh, no, that was only the beginning of it.” He picked his glass, drank the remaining liquid and motioned to Harry to refill it. “I need to drink more to have this conversation.” Harry obliged, and Ron took a big swig before speaking again. “You know how none of us have received a proper… sex talk from a parent, don’t you?” At his friends’ shocked faces, he clarified, “Yeah, obviously not you two, yours couldn’t, but not mine, nor anyone’s as far as I know, have talked about that with their children, we just pick up things as we grow, ask our brothers and friends…” “Read those leaflets at Pomfrey’s office,” piped up Neville. "Books our friends deem interesting," observed Harry. “Right, well, not Paul. On behalf of her daughter, plus some crap about believing in sanitary education, he took as a duty to educate me in respect, consent… and safety. As if I was a kid being taught how to clean my teeth.” Neville looked nonplussed, but Harry winced. “Safety? Do you mean…?” Ron groaned. “Oh, yes. I do.” Neville looked between the two of them, unable to shake the shocked expression. “What are you talking about?” Ron drank again from his glass and stared at Neville. “I’m saying that while I was living under his roof, Hermione’s father took me out for a walk, made me sit down in a park bench and proceeded to explain to me how I was expected to respect his daughter in every aspect of our physical relationship, including, but not limited to, avoiding my little swimmers to reach a destination that made him become a grandfather before due time in a distant future, and of course only if Hermione wanted it first. And in order to achieve that, he gave me a packet of condoms, and thank Merlin and all the warty warlocks before him, he went no further and just told me to read the instructions inside the box before I could die from embarrassment.” Harry could not help it; he gave a great snort of laughter, covered his face with his hands and began to snigger silently. He heard Neville asking, “Con-what? I still don’t get-“ “Condoms, Longbottom. Muggle little plastic wraps for the ready dick. Think of it as a raincoat, but keeping the… rain, inside,” explained an ill-tempered Ron. “Oh, I… I see, yes, how that could be a… a really distressing situation, er-“ Unable to keep talking, Neville exploded with laughter, and Harry abandoned all concealment and joined him until he had to wipe tears from his face. “And after that,” said Ron, ignoring his friends’ merriment, “he took pity on me and led me to a nearby pub, where we were able to drown the mortification and awkwardness in beer. Turned out he was a great connoisseur and we ended up having a good time, but heavens, what a price!” he said, shaking his head. The other two just doubled their howls. “Gryffindor through and through,” said Harry. “If the price one has to pay to go to bed with his girl is getting her father’s ‘blessing’, I should even be grateful of the fact that the first time I’m going to sleep with your sister will be tomorrow night. I don’t think Arthur-“ he stopped, suddenly conscious of the fact that Neville and Ron were staring at him dumbfounded. “What?” “But… but I thought you said… maybe you didn’t, but… tomorrow, first time with Ginny? That’s not… Blimey,” spluttered Ron. “We were under the impression that you two had-“ Something clicked inside Harry’s brain, and he hastily clarified, “Er, no, I meant… We have slept together, just not- stayed over the night, you know, waking up in the same bed the morning after-“ Ron covered his ears. “Told you, no need to know.” “But I wasn’t talking about that!” Harry exclaimed, feeling her face flushed. Ron let his hands fall. “Of course we’ve had sex, a lot less than we would have liked by the way, because of certain plonkers who like to call themselves friends but have made a hobby of interfering between their sister and her boyfriend, even when said boyfriend changed his status to fiancé.” “I wasn’t supposed to reveal that information, so I had to act like I didn’t know it,” Ron shrugged, knocking back his glass and grabbing the bottle for refills. He offered to Neville, but he, giggling madly, refused with a hand gesture. “Yeah, looks like you’ve had enough. Harry?” “Top it, please, if we’re going to talk about this…” Ron snorted and did like he was told, spilling some in the process. Hangover is bound to be huge tomorrow, he thought, but he made a mental shrug. It was his stag night, after all. “What was your point, then?” Ron asked, after capping the bottle. “Well, see, sex isn’t everything, is it? I mean, it’s great, you know-“ “No details, remember?” “Wasn’t going to tell. What I was saying… I’m looking forward to sleeping, just that, share a bed, hug her, spooning, whatever, and waking up together. We’ve never had the chance; it’s always been stolen moments, always in a hurry, never staying overnight. Bloody curfews, bloody shifts and bloody nosy brothers.” He glared at Ron, who blew him a kiss in response. “The most we’ve managed is naps under the trees, on a blanket, in broad daylight. Godric,” he took off his glasses and rubbed his face, “I’m sounding really pathetic.” “You’re not,” said Ron, to his great surprise. Harry put his glasses back on and looked at his friends; none of them seemed likely to take the mickey out of him. On the contrary, both wore thoughtful expressions, albeit it could be simply because of the alcohol in the case of Neville. But Ron seemed a tad sober. “It’s amazing, priceless. Just hold her and stay… you’ve seen Hermione’s hair, have you?” “Hard not to, she’sss got a fair amount of it,” piped up Neville, slurring the words a bit. “All the months on the run, inside that tent, I used to watch her trying to tame and plait it before going to bed,” he revealed, without a hint of embarrassment. “Believe me, I was longing to touch that hair. On our first time alone, I asked her to let me comb it. It was a few days after the Battle, it had been a hard day of funerals. We were mentally exhausted, she had been crying. I thought it could be a way of soothing her nerves as well as satiating my curiosity.” “I like it when Ginny runs her fingers through my hair,” interrupted Harry. “Makes me feel like drizzling honey.” I should cut out on the booze. I’m already sounding like a pathetic drunken poet. “Well, it was like red hot peppers for her, because next thing I knew, she was on top, snogging the daylights out of me.” Harry complained loudly again, while Neville just slipped down in his armchair, giggling. “Good thing you were alone when you decided to play hairdresser then. I’ve walked in on you snogging too many times for my liking,” said Harry, raising his glass and taking a sip. “Good thing indeed, ‘cos that was the first time we had sex, mate,” said Ron matter-of-factly. Harry sprayed his mouthful in surprise. Neville laughed so hard that he spilled the contents of his glass. Ron ignored both of them and grabbed his wand to clean the resulting mess. “We agreed not to talk about intimate details, didn’t we? I absolutely did not need to have that image in my mind, along with the ones I already had,” groaned Harry. “And you won’t have any. You seriously didn’t figure out when we had done it? How do you think I managed to cast a Patronus that summer? There weren’t many happy memories to rely on.” “I used to remember my Oscillating Orchids blooming for the first time. Worked like a charm for me,” said Neville. “No offence, mate, but maybe once you’ve got through other type of first times, blooming orchids are going to look lame,” replied Ron. “Anyway, I strayed away from the point.” “Which was…?” Harry asked. “That sex isn’t everything. Sleeping together, combing her hair, eating together… sharing things in general, those can be the best sensations in the world.” Harry nodded. “I can’t wait to get married for that. I want to wake up with her, travel together, cook dinner for both of us.” “And shag like rabbits, admit it,” said Ron pointing an accusatory finger to him and making him roll his eyes. “Yeah, Ron, whatever. But also just sleep together.” “Never sleep on an argument,” said suddenly Neville. Both Ron and Harry turned their heads to look at him. “You wanted me to give him advice, well, I’ve just remembered that. That’s what my Gran always tells my Aunt Enid. She and Uncle Algie are always having a row.” “He has a point,” said Ron thoughtfully. “I reckon Ginny has our mother’s temper, so yeah… brave of you, wanting to tie the knot with her. Marriage isn’t always wine and roses.” “Wait until she discovers how much you snore. It’s going to put a damper in the whole romantic idea of sleeping together,” scoffed Neville. “Actually, his snores are a blessing. Nightmares are much worse,” said Ron with a grimace. “I should have warned my sister; I’m the one who’s been sharing a room with you since we were eleven years old. I know you better than her.” “That’s not true, it’s different with her, that’s all,” said Harry. “We’ll get to know each other better once we’re living together. Ginny’s the one I want to spend the rest of my life with. I love her, I don’t need to know anything else to marry.” “Oooohhh, that’s sweet,” said Neville, feigning to wipe a tear. “Save that for your speech tomorrow, will you?” “Speech? What speech?” Harry asked. “Speeches, in plural. The groom, best man and the father of the bride, it’s traditional that they deliver a speech near the end of the reception,” explained Ron. “You knew that, didn’t you?” “Of course not, how could I? I’ve only been to Bill and Fleur’s wedding before, and there were no speeches.” “There would have been, but Death Eaters chose that moment to gatecrash the party,” recalled Ron. “Look, it’s not that bad. You’re supposed to thank everyone for coming, thank my parents for raising your bride, tease me mercilessly and throw in one or two sex jokes. My father, he won’t know until tomorrow, so he probably will say how happy he and my mother are and be done with it. And mine’s more or less the same as yours but I get to tease you even more. Don’t fret; Hermione’s revised it and crossed out the worst jabs so you won’t try to kill me-“ “I’ve half a mind to kill you right now,” said Harry irritably. “You have yours written down and already revised? And you didn’t think to warn me? What am I going to say? You know I hate speeches, always decline when someone asks me.” “C’mon, Harry, it’s not a big deal,” said Neville. “That bit you said before, it’s perfect. Just throw one or two jokes and some nice memories and that’s all, really. You know, when did you meet, when did you realise that you loved her-“ “Day after the Battle, it was,” said Harry automatically, and shook his head. “But I can’t talk about it. She had told me some private information about what happened under the Carrows’ regime. All you need to know is that while being wandless, she took down her attacker kicking his balls, got his and her wand back, and hexed him before leaving. And I just was so proud of her that all I could think was ‘that’s my girl, I love her’. I probably did from well before that, but that day it just dawned on me.” Ron and Neville were staring at Harry open mouthed. “Wow,” said the latter. “I can see why you can’t use that. How about first time you told her that you loved her? Is it cheesy enough?” Harry groaned again; he was beginning to dread heavily the whole affair. “Not that, either. It was on her seventeenth birthday.” “Well, that’s nice -“ “It’s not, Nev, we were both naked for the first time.” Ron immediately clamped his hands to his ears. He pointed at him. “See? No way I’m telling that in front of her family!” He buried his head in his hands. “Yeah, of course…,” he heard Neville saying. “Hmm, the proposal story? Was it romantic?” “Are you kidding me? At the hospital, after narrowly avoiding death and upsetting her because she wasn’t on the emergency contacts list and wasn’t allowed to see me? She decided to propose so she wouldn’t have to find herself again in the same situation. Not romantic in the usual way, although I don’t regret one bit of it.” “You have quite a story, the pair of you,” said Ron, who had unclamped her hands from his ears. “How about the way you used to look at her dot in the map the months we were on the run?” “How did you know? I’ve told no one, not even Ginny.” “Oh, please. T’was dead obvious, all that time staring at the sodden map. Even I noticed.” “Well I’m not telling that in front of people, it’s very personal.” Neville sighed. “What about the other way round? First time she said ‘I love you?’” “Er…” Harry racked his brains. “Um, er, she hasn’t.” “WHAT?” exclaimed Ron and Neville at the same time. “Well, she always tells me she’s fond of me, or that she fancies me-“ Or says nothing and snogs me, he thought. “Or when I tell her, she says ‘ditto’. Until now, I hadn’t realised she hasn’t actually said the words… Why is that so important? You’re looking at me weirdly.” “Mate, to say ‘I love you’ is a big step, everybody knows that. I can’t believe you two are getting married tomorrow without having said it properly,” insisted Ron. “This is a fucking disaster,” blurted Harry. The alcohol was messing with his capacity to think clearly; he suddenly felt like suffocating. “The wedding is tomorrow and I don’t have a speech, my snoring is going to ruin everything and my fiancée has never told me she loves me. Maybe you’re right. Maybe we should postpone, or even cancel it-“ “Whoa, calm down, Harry! We haven’t said any such a thing,” said Ron. “No more Firewhisky for you, mate,” said Neville, picking up Harry’s glass. “Do you think we’re rushing? That we’re doing this for the right motives? Perhaps we should wait, shouldn’t we?” He was pulling at his hair now; for all the confidence he had felt only minutes ago, now it seemed that everything was carelessly thought, hurried, wrong. And not all the hasty decisions he had made in his life had turned out well. The memory of the Department of Mysteries fiasco in his fifth year came up suddenly and reminded him painfully of that. He looked at his friends; Neville and Ron were arguing over who was in charge of bringing the Sobering Solution. “You only had to nick some from the shop!” “Stop it!”, cried Harry. When the two of them looked at him, he asked “How can I know we’re doing the right thing?” “C’mon, Harry, of course it is! You’re made for each other, your love has survived a war, separation, even splitting up twice-“ Neville hissed at this, and Ron clamped a hand to his mouth and swore under his breath. Harry felt a heavy weight of dread inside him. “Well, that just proves it! What if we fall out again? Oh, Merlin, fuck! We can’t do this!” “Oh, no, no, no, no!”, said Neville forcefully. “Just stop to think straight and tell me one fucking concrete motive why you shouldn’t do it.” “Well, Neville, for one, I don’t really know if she loves me because I just realised she hasn’t said so!” “And what are we waiting for? Fuck’s sake, let’s go and ask her!” Ron got up, drained his glass, grabbed his cloak from the hanger and went to the fireplace. “They were going to spend the night at the Burrow, we can wait for them there if they haven’t arrived yet.” Pausing in the act of snatching the Floo Powder, he returned to the table and took the Firewhisky bottle. Harry opened his mouth to object, but Neville slammed his cloak in his arms, seized him by the shoulders and directed him to the fireplace, where flames were already rising high and invitingly green. He was shoved unceremoniously into them, so he had no choice but to yell “The Burrow!” His heart beating fast, taking care of tucking his elbows in, and looking at the rapidly passing fireplaces, he could only think of what would he do if Ginny Weasley did not feel for him the same love he felt for her. |
| Reviews 34 |
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