Disclaimer: Blame JKR, not me.
"Heyginwillyougoandgeticecreamwithmesaturday?" Harry undoubtedly was nervous, but he gave an unabashed smirk at my automatic agreement. I have to say I was a bit scared, not to mention slightly flattered. I mean when a guys battles, and defeats, Voldemort you would think that they could easily ask a girl they like out for ice cream, right? But no, my boyfriend is a stuttering mess.
Yes, boyfriend. We are, in fact, already 'going out', but Harry, being the chivalrous Gryffindor he is, wants to take me on a couple dates before we make it official.
So, here I am, waiting on the living room settee for my masculine escort to burst through the fireplace and sweep me off my graceful little feet with his dashing handsome looks.
"Oh, my little baby has a date," Mum mumbles affectionately as she stands behind the couch and toys with my hair, "You and Harry are just too cute, dear."
I roll my eyes. I think nearly everyone on the planet likes to remind us just how brilliantly cute we are. Cute? Does that suffice for head-over-heels, passionately, made for each other, and perfectly in love? I surely hope so, because if not our relationship has been severely underestimated.
But I know everyone wishes us the absolute best, except maybe Cho…but I haven't seen her since the final battle.
And just like that my heart sinks, the battle. Losing Fred and Tonks and Remus (I have stopped calling him professor, I like to think he would be proud of me for breaking such an awful habit) was an absolute horror, and just thinking about it now makes my eyes start to tear.
George had completely withdrawn himself, until the funeral, which was one of the most horrible and beautiful things I have ever had to witness. He was like a statue, impassive and curt, the introverted, quiet, one he always was. Only Mum could try to sympathize, because of losing Gideon and Fabian, but they where still no twin brother.
No one yet has the nerve to remove Fred's hand from the nine hand clock over the mantle. The little 'Fred' engraved pointer simply does slow, never ceasing circles, not knowing where to stop. His laundry basket remains full five weeks after the battle, no one daring to feel the fabrics that once flourished his body, the fabrics soft with wear that still smell like him, nobody audacious enough to throw them out or put them in his wardrobe.
Teddy was, at first, given to a proffering Andromeda, who herself was mourning Ted and Tonks, but was then taken by Harry, who had managed to take rent of his own flat, but had preferred to live at the Burrow for two weeks following the battle. Harry had slept next to the aqua-haired infant every night; cherishing the life that had sprung from the two he had loved so dearly, claiming the orphan that he was once very much alike.
Remus, a key element in the Order, produced just the right balance with his leadership after Dumbledore died. A wonderful teacher, a light, friendly, paternal figure at Hogwarts (although about half the female population had a crush on him at school). He was incredibly modest, and not because he was polite, which he was, but because he was doubtful and self-loathsome because of his lycanthropy.
Tonks, when you grow up with six older brothers, was a refreshing escape from a testosterone fueled family. Admirable because of her Auror qualification. A truly unique woman because of not only her metamorphing powers but outlook and withstanding spunk.
Goodness, I miss them all so much.
"Oh, dear, I hope Harry hasn't planned anything outside, it's pouring." Mum says, as if the silence is there just to be filled at all times, stating the complete obvious.
Just like that the fireplace in front of me grew and burst into acid green flames at the embers. Harry, ashen hair sticking up in all directions, looked like he hadn't slept in nights, but was smiling huge, "Hey, Gin, sorry I'm a bit late I had to drop Teddy off at Dromeda's. She insisted I have some tea, which I was far too polite to refuse, got me comfortable, and then pounced at me with a comb and detangling spells," He ruffled his ashy hair and patted his sooty jumper, strode across the room, and pulled me up off the couch. His voice lowered "I see where Tonks got her crazy."
He then realizes what he said, and his eyes go wide. He swallows roughly and all at once everyone is thinking the same thing. He gives a timid smile, looks at Mum hesitantly, and squeezes my hand lightly. I rip my hand free of his and fling my arms around his neck, hugging him tight, knowing that we can all empathize, and he returns the embrace ten-fold.
Tonks would've laughed her arse off if she knew we were going to remember her as crazy.
Mum scuttles over, after we had left our embrace, and squishes him into her breast, giving him a colossal bear hug. I don't think my Mum could love my boyfriend more.
"Ready to go, Gin?" Harry asks after Mum releases him, his cheeks flushed and the dark circles under his eyes diminishing slightly.
"Yep. Bye Mum!" I said and grabbed his extended arm. Before we could apparate away I heard a barely audible, "Goodbye, dear, have fun!"
And then the odd sensation of being in a latex bodysuit overcame and darkness pooled around us.
Then the darkness slowly withered away, like the slightly damaged windshield wipers on the Ford Anglia wiping away thick tar, to the clatter of people inside the little duplex I have come to recognize as Florence Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor. The colorful interior benches were full of chattering, ice cream laden, five-year-olds.
The busy atmosphere didn't distract from the simple fact that Harry knew exactly where I wanted to go on a date. I mean, where better than Diagon Alley?
"Oi," Harry said, fumbling on his feet as a parade of children tried to squeeze around us, all at once.
"I want this, Mummy! I want this!" screamed a little girl with golden pigtails and teary blue eyes, pointing at a large lollipop on display. Though the shop was filled with wet people hiding from the rain, the line to the counter was short and in no time we had reached the front.
"What do you want, Gin?" Harry asked through a slightly agitated smile, he probably hadn't expected it to rain and the whole parlor to play temporary residence to about a million soggy people. But I smiled at him reassuringly and I, being a regular at Florence's, knew what I wanted instantaneously.
"I'll have the banana ice cream with mini jelly slugs, please," I said to the attendant, a purple Wellie clad teenager in a tee shirt a violent shade of fuchsia and a rhinestone lip ring, who flicked her wand lazily at one of the scoopers before it leapt to life and began scooping the pale yellow ice cream, throwing the tiny, colorful, confections haphazardly on top. The cone zoomed to the counter and magicked itself to stay upright.
"What can I get you?" The attendant asked Harry, looking both annoyed by our need of service and indignant that she was the one who had to provide it.
"How about chocolate with raspberries and nuts?" Harry said politely, he had been rather fond of the combination since he had had it on his first ever trip to Diagon Alley, right along side Hagrid.
"What kind of nuts?" Asked the teenager, looked obliviously at Harry, "We have hazelnuts, walnuts, macadamias, brazil nuts, pistachios, almonds, walnuts, oh did I say that already? Oh, okay let me start over…" She continued to drone on and rolled her eyes.
"I'll have walnuts," Harry said, slightly affronted.
"Okay, then, walnuts it is," She flicked her wand and the scooper came to action once again, combining the dark ice cream, vivid maroon berries, and cream colored chunks. The finished cone zoomed to the counter to stand aside mine.
The attendant pushed a few tabs on the vintage register and it opened with a high-pitched ping, "That'll be a Galleon and six Knuts," She said, monotonously, opening her hand when Harry offered the coins. "Thank you for selecting Florence Fortescue's as your ice cream getting destination," She said uniformly and rolled her eyes once again.
"No problem," Harry said over his shoulder, smiling sarcastically, as we retreated to find a bench. Finding a nearly empty seat in the corner near the window, I sat while Harry, showing his chivalry once again, insisted he stand, leaning slightly on the robin's egg blue wall behind him.
After a few minutes of mild comfortable silence, slurping at the ice cream all the while, a whole other group of what looked to be seven-year-old bustled into the parlor, dripping and whining.
"You know what?" I asked rhetorically, grabbing Harry's hand and pulling him forward, "It's not that bad out."
I ran for the door, tugging Harry behind me, but going slow enough that we didn't drop our ice creams, which was eaten down to the edge of the cone anyway. We pushed around the children and their hollering parentage, retreating to the door and out into the flooding cobblestone street. Harry following close behind, making a vain attempt to cover his hair with the hand opposite the ice cream.
"Gin, what are you doing?" Harry asked skeptically, although he was trying hard not to laugh.
"What does it look like, silly," I said as I threw my hands up in the air and danced in circles, the rain pounding all around me. Harry's hair, thanks to its abnormal volume, had collected much water and was clinging to his forehead, where his eyebrows had disappeared.
"You'll be the death of me, Gin," He said under his breath as I continued to dance in the rain, my jumper hugging damply to my skin, the raindrops stinging lightly as the dancing down from the heavens.
"And don't you forget, Harry James Potter," I shot at him, smiling as his skeptical demeanor receded and a fat smile plastered itself upon his face.
"I would never,"
(A/N) You have no idea how many sugar-free Tropicana Lemonades (leftovers from an annual New Years party and my sorry alternative to Red Bull) and gums (Thanks for the idea, JKR) I have consumed simply to keep me awake. I hope you enjoyed it and got a decent laugh out of it. This dedication is split three ways, To Kayla, whom waited far too long for this. For Jessica, whom is the most brilliant friend (and Dinny) I could've ever imagined. And for Mackenzie Ann Curtis, whom I miss so much. I love you all too much for words.