Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or any characters contained therein. This is pure fluff. No plot whatsoever.
Harry tossed another gnome over the garden wall, and wiped his hands on his jeans. Beside him, Ginny grasped one of the squirming creatures, and began to spin around with it. Her foot hit a patch of wet grass, and she sat down hard on the ground.
"Here," Harry leaned down and gave her a hand up.
"Thanks." she said shortly, before looking around for the gnome. Spotting him under a rosebush, she dove after him, only to go hands first into the prickly plant. The gnome leapt to the top of the wall, blew a raspberry at them both, and was gone.
"I think we've earned a break," Harry said, collapsing next to the wet stone of the wall.
They had been at the chore for almost two hours. After the torrential rains that had kept everyone at the Burrow inside for almost a week, the storms had given Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny a day of reprieve. They had celebrated with a mudfight.
Unfortunately, mudfights were not on Mrs. Weasley's list of accepted outdoor activities. Red in the face with anger, she had paired them all up, and set them, still rather covered in mud, to unpleasant tasks. Ron and Hermione were cleaning out the shed, which was more of a task than it at first seemed. The inside of the shed had been charmed to the size of a small hanger, and was crammed full of dusty boxes and insect carcasses. Ron had groaned and complained all the way out the shed, but Harry thought that he had gotten the better end of the deal. The shed provided some shelter from the drizzling rain that was falling now. And Ron had a partner who could talk to him like an actual human. Ginny seemed set on pretending that Harry had the intellectual capacity of one of the gnomes that they were flinging over the wall.
Harry wished she would at least make meaningless small talk. He would never have admitted it to Ron, but he was beginning to see Ginny in a very different light than he had previously: the sort of light that caused a gut-wrenching sensation not unlike the sort Cho had inspired. He hated to admit it even to himself. Ginny was dating Dean Thomas now. She had completely forgotten any vestige of the silly crush that had rendered her speechless in his presence for four years.
Besides, he thought as she slid down on the wet ground next to him, her shoulder bumping his, that crush had been painful for her. She had suffered so much teasing, and he himself hadn't been very understanding. He had simply ignored her whenever possible.
Ginny pushed her sweaty hair off her forehead, smearing mud across her forehead. She closed her eyes, and turned her face up to the mist that was drifting gently down on them. Harry stared at her, the way the drops caught in her hair, her eyelashes. She opened her eyes just then, and he snapped his gaze forward, feeling his cheeks burn with embarrassment.
Ginny gazed at him for nearly a full minute, deepening his discomfort. Then, miraculously, she spoke.
"So, how do you think Ron and Hermione are coming with that shed?" she asked, looking at it, across the yard.
"Probably not too well." Harry answered.
"Why not?" she asked, turning her gaze back to him. He forced himself to meet her eyes, and wished he'd changed the topic instead.
"Er, they've started dating now. I guess the shed would be a pretty private place. From your mum and stuff." He wondered if spontaneous combustion was a possible side effect of blushing. It certainly felt likely...
"Oh!" Ginny was blushing too now. "Yeah. Just hope it's not too private."
Harry tried to make some noise that made sense, but came up with an artificial sounding "Heh."
Ginny caught his eyes again, and they just sat there for a moment, staring. As the silence stretched, Harry's mind began babbling louder and louder. He had to say something. Anything. This was just too uncomfortable. Why was she blushing? Why was she looking at him like that? Maybe-Maybe she...
Ginny turned her face away again, pushing her hair back. Harry was having trouble breathing. He reached out, and gently rubbed away the mud on her forehead. She froze, holding her breath. The action had brought their faces within inches of each other. She exhaled lightly, and her breath fanned his lips.
He met her eyes, and smiled slightly. She drew in a shaky breath and closed her eyes as he trailed his thumb over her cheek and along her jawbone. "You know what?" she breathed, "When I was eleven, I used to daydream that you and I would kiss for the first time in the middle of a garden, with the moon out. And I would be in a beautiful dress, and you would be in dress robes."
"Well, we're in a garden." he whispered back.
"Yeah."
"Wait," he said, drawing back. "Your mum could see us. What about her? What about Dean? What about-"
"Harry?" she cut him off.
"Yeah?"
"Shut up."
He leaned forward again. "Right."