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SIYE Time:1:47 on 11th November 2024
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All The Tropes
By lilyevans_Jan30

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Category: Post-Hogwarts
Characters:Harry/Ginny
Genres: Romance
Warnings: None
Rating: R
Reviews: 16
Summary: Harry and Ginny have been friends for so long, will anyone believe they are actually in love? They may have agreed to fake date for Ginny's protection, but what they don't realize is that it may keep Harry safe too.
Hitcount: Story Total: 16060; Chapter Total: 2618
Awards: View Trophy Room




Author's Notes:
So, It's been a hot minute since I've posted here, but FFN is acting up more than usual and honestly, I missed SIYE. :). And I think this new fic might work here. It's a rom-com and while there will be some steamy bits, I'll edit/warn as needed FYI - I always keep Fred alive in my lighter pieces.




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A/N: I’m not even sure what to say about this new story other than it’s a new rom-com, the darkness of the prologue notwithstanding. My working title has been “All the Tropes” and so far I’m keeping that as the real title too since I’ve not been able to come up with anything better. Enjoy and please review.


Molly Weasley was frantic. The Delacours would be arriving in two days, Fleur and Bill were getting married in five, there was a war going on, and she couldn’t find the lace-trimmed ecru napkins she was certain she had packed in a trunk in the attic, protected by any number of non-wrinkle spells. That wasn’t the only wedding necessity that had gone missing, or needed to be organized, or was due for a good cleaning before the nuptials could take place, and Ron, Hermione, Harry and Ginny were taking the brunt of Mrs. Weasley’s ever-growing list of chores. Harry had never known Ron and Ginny’s mum to be disorganized, and he was confused by some of her requests, which seemed either repetitive or unnecessary or both.

Finally, Ginny clued him into the fact that Molly was likely doing all she could to keep the four of them from spending time together, as if that would prevent Ron, Harry, and Hermione from leaving and planing with Ginny how she could help from her position at Hogwarts. After that Harry just shut his mouth and did whatever was asked of him. His guilt at putting Ron and Ginny in danger - especially after the events of the past year - was nearly unchecked already, but all of his protests that he could manage alone fell on deaf ears.

He was on his third trip to the orchard to collect yet more branches that were to be festooned with garlands of flowers and twined into some sort of table decoration when a small, half-eaten apple dropped out of the sky and landed on the ground in front of him. He looked up.

“If no one followed you, get up here.” Ginny’s voice boded no argument. Harry agreeably swung himself into the treehouse, grinning at the sight of her sitting against a cushy pillow with a platter of fancily decorated sweets and an expression that wasn’t the least bit guilty. She held up a small biscuit frosted in chocolate. “Want one? I think it’s got caramel inside.”

“Aren’t these for the Delacours?” Harry dropped the basket that was supposed to be holding branches and sat down. “Budge over.” He knocked against Ginny’s side until she made room for him to lean against the pillow. Ginny shrugged.

“Probably. My mum made about three times as many as we need though.” She batted Harry’s hand away so she could snag a Jaffa cake. “Besides,” she continued, taking a huge bite. “With the way she’s been working us, I say we deserve a treat.”

“I deserved that one,” said Harry grumpily. His petulance was short-lived. “Are those miniature treacle tarts?” He popped one in his mouth and groaned with appreciation.

“I made sure to take extra of those,” Ginny said. She sounded amused. “You’re almost as bad as Ron.” Harry ignored that and grabbed another tart.

“These are so good, I could almost kiss you right now.”

“Please don’t.” Ginny made a show of scooting away from him. “If you want to kiss someone, I’m sure we can find you a witch at the wedding. Gabrielle must be what, almost thirteen now?”

“I’m not kissing a twelve-year old!” Harry picked up Ginny’s bottle of pumpkin juice and took a long swallow, turning his body away from her when she tried to grab it out of his hand. “Besides,” he continued, wiping his hand across the back of his mouth. “What about you? I don’t think Dean was invited.” He raised his eyebrows and Ginny groaned.

“That’s completely over and you know it,” she said. “There’s not likely to be much kissing for me as I’m going to be related to most of the guests.”

Harry handed her back the pumpkin juice. “Or me either. I’m going to be in disguise, you know.”

The atmosphere in the treehouse shifted.

“It’s really getting dangerous, isn’t it?” Ginny’s voice was steady. Harry nodded.

“I heard you dad and Remus and Bill talking about the wards they’re putting on the entire property; there are layers and layers of spells I’ve never even heard of. Ones set by the Ministry, even.” He was quiet for a moment. “I guess we have to trust the Ministry.”

Ginny touched his hand. “But . . .?”

Harry huffed in agreement. “Exactly. “But I really don’t. Not completely. Scrimgeour . . . he’s better than Fudge, at least. More backbone, even if. . . ” He turned his body to face her. “I’m sorry I can’t tell you where we’re going, not even a little bit. Scrimgeour would try to get it out of you, and Voldemort’s followers would be worse. I couldn’t live with that.”

“I know.” Ginny wrapped her arms around her knees. “It would be the necklace all over again.” She quickly held up her hand. “Which was not your fault.”

“You’d been with us half the day; I should have recognized you’d been Confunded instead of believing Ron prattling on that you were just lovesick from snogging Dean.”

Ginny snorted. “Dean’s snogging wasn’t that good, Harry.”

He shook his head; it was a discussion they’d had before. “Exactly. I should have figured it out before you got the package out of the Three Broomsticks.” He took a deep breath; it was over and Ginny was okay. Still, of all the times he’d nearly gotten one or another of the Weasley children killed, that moment last winter - and the weeks that had followed while Ginny slowly recovered in St. Mungo’s - had been the worst.

To be honest, he was almost relieved that Ginny had been unconscious for most of it, so she hadn’t witnessed Molly lecturing, and then scolding, and finally yelling at him when, nearly four weeks after the event, he’d tried to apologize again.

“I took your measure when you were eleven years old, Harry.” Now Molly’s voice was quiet and that was somehow worse. He squirmed under her gaze.

“But . . .”

“But nothing. You questioned me less than Ron did when I asked you both to keep an eye on Ginny her second year, even though you had every reason to say no. As far as I’m concerned, your friendship with her - and with Ron for that matter - has only been a benefit.”

She turned away then and fussed with the blanket around Ginny’s legs and Harry had finally given up trying to assuage his guilt by taking the blame for Ginny being cursed.

It hadn’t gone away though, the guilt, and more than once this past week Harry wondered if Mrs. Weasley felt quite as strongly about Harry being a benefit now that he was about to put two of her children into almost unimaginable danger.

“Promise me you’ll be careful, okay? While you’re at Hogwarts?” It was another discussion the four of them had had during a few stolen moments when they weren’t doing whatever wedding chores Mrs. Weasley could dream up. Harry couldn’t tell Ginny what he and Ron and Hermione would be off doing, but Ginny had offered right away to help however she could from school. The other three had even debated whether to ask her to look for a Horcrux there but had eventually given up on the idea as too dangerous. While her blood status might protect her more than a Muggleborn, Ginny wasn’t likely to be much safer than the trio.

“Only if you all promise the same thing,” said Ginny pointedly. She leaned congenially against his arm. “I can’t believe I’m going back to a school where Snape is the Headmaster.”

“Stay well away from him if you can,” said Harry, more sharply than he intended. Of course Ginny wasn’t going to put herself in the man’s path, not after he’d shown how easily he was willing to commit murder. But she shrugged.

“If he tries anything with anyone he’s going to wish he’d stayed away from me.” Only the slight waver in her voice gave her away.

Harry ignored it. “That’s right. You and Neville and Luna and all the rest of the DA will have things well in hand,” he said, with more confidence than he felt.

Ginny snorted. “We’re both good at faking it, aren’t we?”

Harry hummed in agreement. “I think the next months will depend on it.”
*******
The wedding was mostly a blur. At one point, Harry danced with Gabrielle Delacour, much to Ginny’s amusement. To get back at her for her teasing he grabbed her during a particularly fast song and swung her around until they were both dizzy.

“Enough, Harry,” Ginny said with a laugh as she collapsed into a chair at the side of the dance floor. “Mum’ll kill me if I vomit on this dress.” Harry handed her a glass of water before sitting down beside her and she drank gratefully.

“Your mum’s already cross enough with me; I certainly don’t want to give her any more reason,” he said, taking the glass when she was finished and draining the rest of the water. Even from where he sat he could see Molly’s eyes darting around, silently counting heads to make sure Ron and Harry and Hermione hadn’t snuck off. Ginny’s eyes followed his.

“You don’t have a choice, Harry, and she knows that. None of us do.” Harry shook his head.

“You have a choice to keep your head down and not get into trouble,” he said. Without even looking he knew the expression on her face would have gone mulish. “I know, I know,” he said quickly, raising his hands in surrender. “We’ve talked about this dozens of tims and I’m not being fair, but hear me out.” In the past days, as his departure had become imminent, Harry’s concern over abandoning Ginny at Hogwarts had grown roots. Knowing where she was had become second nature to him over the years since the Chamber and it was more disconcerting than he wanted to admit to give that up. To hide his discomfort he tried to joke.

“I mean, who’s going to tell me what to do if I run into some Veela who want a date?”

It worked; Ginny snorted. “Harry, there are plenty of Veela here and I haven seen any of them give you a second glance.” She gave him an appraising look. “Even though that disguise is better looking than your regular face.”

The Muggle Harry was impersonating was chubby and had a face like a gnome. Harry punched Ginny on the arm. “You don’t think I could land a Veela?”

She shook her head immediately. “Who do you think you are, Bill?”

They sat comfortably together after that, watching Fred and George try to flirt with Fleur’s cousins and Luna and her father dance around like sunflowers. Harry was about to risk Ginny’s wrath by asking her - once more - to please humor him and be just a little careful when Kingsley’s Patronus dropped into the middle of the reception. He didn’t even have the chance to say goodbye; he was on his feet in an instant, locking eyes with Ron and Hermione, and then they were gone.
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