Title: A Different Kind of Magic
Author: Alexandri
Pairing: Harry/Ginny
Disclaimer: Characters are JKR's; plot (such as it is) is mine.
Rating: PG
Summary: A musical event brings Harry and Ginny back together.
A/N: I'd like to say that I have no clue what order the performers mentioned would perform their songs or even which songs they'd perform so just go with it. Originally written in 2006.
"Why are we doing this again?" Ginny muttered as the queue inched forward.
Harry suppressed a grin and patted her shoulder. "We're helping a friend, remember? Hermione and Stephen can't make it and the tickets were expensive and they didn't want them to go to waste."
"Yeah, yeah, I know," Ginny grumbled with a slight frown. "But a Muggle concert? I've never even heard of this bloke!"
"You don't know anything about Muggle concerts," Harry pointed out, vaguely amused by his friend's disgruntlement. "Or Muggle music, for that matter."
Ginny chose not to respond, her slight shrug and deepened frown signaling the end of this particular conversation. While not expressly anti-Muggle, Ginny, like most purebloods, had no real use for the Muggle world. As a result, she never really liked excursions into it. As if to illustrate her discomfort, Ginny shifted her shoulders and tugged at the bright green halter top Parvati had insisted she wear. While Harry understood Ginny's disinterest in the Muggle world, he couldn't help thinking it was a bloody shame. She looked incredibly sexy in that halter top.
As the line dragged forward, Harry wondered how much of Ginny's attitude had to do with the tenuous state of their relationship. It had been six long years since the war ended and Harry had had a particularly hard time moving on. He'd pushed her so far away they didn't speak to each other for two years. When they finally did rekindle their friendship, Ginny had been involved with Theodore Nott. Harry hadn't liked it but he'd put his and Ginny's relationship before his opinion of the quiet Slytherin. Instead he'd focused on getting on with his own life—finding a bit of happiness repairing and improving old friendships, making new ones, working at The Leaky Cauldron after quitting the Auror Academy, and moving into a surprisingly satisfying relationship with Parvati.
Then Hermione turned her considerable energies on promoting Muggle-Wizard understanding, appointing Harry spokesperson. The Wizarding World has since proven to be most reluctant to the influx of information on the Muggle World and its denizens, claiming that such knowledge endangered the passing of wizarding tradition to future generations. Hermione, whose father was murdered during the war, vehemently disagreed. Ginny, like most purebloods, thought the Wizarding World was getting on quite nicely without dragging Muggle-Wizard politics to the forefront of the community's attention. Harry, who still enjoyed many aspects of the Wizarding World, really missed electricity (among other things) as his eyes had gotten worse in recent years and reading by candlelight wasn't helping. Thus, Harry was firmly lodged in the middle.
Tensions in the Wizarding World were increasingly going downhill. The tension among Harry and Ginny's small group of friends was even worse. Though he hadn't mentioned the likelihood to Ginny, Harry suspected tonight's little excursion into the Muggle world of leisure and entertainment was Hermione's more subtle way of wooing Ginny into a more progressive frame of mind. Of course, Harry also suspected Hermione of a spot of matchmaking now that Ginny and Theodore were irrevocably though amiably over and Harry and Parvati (who had a wildly successful fashion advice column in Witch Weekly) were too busy for each other and ran in completely different circles and thus were no longer a couple. For Harry's part, he resented Hermione's meddling (and Ron's and Molly's), but he was heartened that they obviously thought he and Ginny were still a possibility. He liked to think they were right.
"Harry?" Ginny urged as she eyed the ticket-taker with thinly veiled distrust.
Blinking, Harry smiled at the bewildered ticket-taker and handed him their passes. "First concert," he murmured, tipping his head in Ginny's direction before hurriedly ushering her through the gate.
Ginny turned a fierce glare on him, but Harry simply shrugged and said, "I had to tell him something. Just follow my lead."
"Stop flitting off into your own little world and that won't be a problem."
Choosing to let that double-edged comment go, Harry placed a careful hand on the small of her back and guided her to the concession stand.
"Why are we getting drinks?" Ginny asked.
"It'll get hot in there with all those people dancing and the lights and the noise. We'll get dehydrated."
"Don't Muggles have some sort of cooling...plan or something?"
"Yes," Harry answered patiently while paying for their beverages. "And it'll be used but it'll still get hot and sticky and you'll love it. You'll see. It's part of the fun."
"Of course, it is," Ginny drawled, clearly doubtful.
Valiantly holding on to his patience—which was not his strong suit to begin with—Harry steered a very displeased Ginny into the auditorium and found their seats (10th row, center). They passed the time with idle chatter and Harry pointing out various Muggle contraptions Ginny had never encountered.
The stadium gradually filled and Harry watched with barely suppressed amusement as Ginny grudgingly gave in to the infectious anticipation in the arena and began to show genuine interest in what was going on around her. She became so caught up in the thrumming excitement, she almost screamed when the lights began to dim. She stared, riveted, as the stage suddenly blazed with lights and the band burst into a dark, roiling groove that Harry thought sounded unmistakably American.
A tiny blonde with a guitar stepped up to the mike and began to sing in a smoky alto completely incongruent with her pixie-like appearance. Hazarding a glance at his own pixie-like date (not that he'd ever say that to her as he realized Ginny was not above physical violence), Harry found Ginny gazing raptly as she bobbed her head along with the song, lips murmuring "Who will save your soul?" along with the singer. Chuckling in relief, Harry returned his attention to the stage and, after three songs, hoped that the bloke following the blonde wasn't quite as sensitive no matter how much he found himself relating to the lyrics.
The blonde and her band played for about an hour and Ginny lost all her inhibitions. She danced. She cheered. She laughed at some of the woman's comments. By the tie the main attraction came on, an American bloke by the name of Rob Thomas, Ginny was virtually indistinguishable from any other Muggle bird. In fact, Ginny appeared to be just as enthralled by the man. Quite frankly, Harry thought the man was distinctly odd-looking.
Though he launched into a catchy tune about now wanting to be lonely anymore and Harry couldn't help casting sidelong glances at Ginny, but she was too absorbed in the show. Harry himself was swept into his own little world by a couple songs: one that appeared to be called "I Am an Illusion;" the other one "Something to Be."
Harry wondered if the songs were directed to him and Ginny as the quirky-looking man sang of love and self-awareness and social cohesion. He wouldn't put it past Hermione to concoct such a plan. But, when Ginny's hand brushed against his during "My, My, My," Harry found he didn't mind the idea of Hermione's scheming as much as he normally would. When she twined her fingers with his during "When the Heartache Ends," any anger he may have felt disappeared. He glanced down at Ginny and found her gazing back, a soft smile flirting with her lips. He smiled back and began counting the seconds until the bloody concert was over.
After another thirty minutes (which included an encore that even Harry, in his agitated state, couldn't deny was deserved), Harry and Ginny began the arduous task of trying to get out of the arena. Harry noticed that Ginny didn't let go of his hand. It took about twenty minutes to leave the arena and reach the apparation point. From there, they went to the apparation point near Ginny's flat in Diagon Alley. They strolled the short distance, Harry listening contentedly to Ginny's quiet yet enthused recall of the concert. His mind, however, was consumed with the thought of kissing her good night.
She slowed as they reached the steps to her building and turned toward Harry. "I had a good time," she announced, her chin tipped up as if she expected him to mock her.
Harry smiled. "I noticed."
"Hermione's trying to woo me to her side, isn't she?"
"Probably," Harry conceded with a nod.
"And you?"
He shrugged and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "I can't tell you how to feel, Gin."
"What sort of spokesperson are you?" she exclaimed with a laugh. "A terrible one, I'd say. Hermione should fire you immediately."
Harry laughed with her. "Not very likely."
"Probably not." Ginny smiled and shook her head as she climbed up the first step. Their still-clasped hands swung gently between them. Finally, she tilted her head to the side and gazed at Harry. "Are you going to kiss me or not?"
Harry's eyebrows disappeared under his fringe. "I...that is...yes."
"Get on with it, then. It's late and Mum wants us all present for a family breakfast tomorrow. You're invited, you know."
"Yeah," he murmured, closing the distance between them and cradling her cheek in his free hand. Her eyes fluttered closed and Harry pressed his lips to hers.
It was a slow kiss—a leisurely reacquaintance with something he hadn't got the chance to do nearly enough when she was his. Harry felt like the final piece of...whatever it was he'd been trying to build for himself clicked into place as they stood in the warm, enveloping summer breeze. And it was over, natural, comforting.
Ginny rested her forehead against his and stared into his eyes. "You'll be at the Burrow tomorrow?" she asked softly.
Harry nodded.
"Are you planning to kiss me again in the near future?"
"Count on it."
