How's It Gonna Be?

by jenorama

Ginny has a new man in her life and Harry doesn't take it well. Originally published in 2004, events occur after Need Your Lovin' Tonight.

"Harry, I'm so glad you could join me for lunch," Ginny says, unfolding the cloth napkin and carefully spreading it on her lap.

"Who am I to refuse an official summons?" I mimic her movements and take a sip of my water. The bright purple memo announcing her presence in the Atrium of the Ministry had swooped into my cubicle and nearly knocked my old golden snitch off of the desk. GINEVRA MOLLY WEASLEY TO SEE HARRY JAMES POTTER it had said. Pleasantly surprised, I'd gone down to meet her and now we are sitting in a small Italian bistro in Muggle London.

"That was always one of my favorite things about visiting the Ministry with Dad when I was little. All of the memos zooming around." She has a far off look in her eyes and I take a moment to admire her. As a girl, she was cute, as a teenager, beautiful. Mature now, her face has a kind of timeless beauty I can never get tired of.

Our lunch arrives and we get down to the business of filling our bellies, serious conversation put on hold for the moment and it does not pick up until we are full. "So, how are things at St. Mungo's? They have you running the place yet?" I ask, pushing my empty plate away.

"No, not yet. I really could whip that place into shape, you know. I am up for a ward supervisor position, though."

"That'll be nice. Maybe you can move to a bigger place."

"Harry, don't! It'll hear you!"

"And what? It won't let you in tonight?"

"You joke, but you never know. The person that lived there before me was this really old wizard and sometimes I'm not sure that he's entirely moved out!"

"What? Did you find a pair of shoes in the closet?"

"No! He died there and sometimes...I don't know, I just get a feeling that something of him lingers."

"Want me to check it out?"

Ginny shakes her head and breaks off a small crust of bread from the basket between us. "No. Whatever of him is left there, it's friendly. I sort of like having him around. Anyway, enough about my possibly haunted flat, what's been going on with you? I haven't seen you in so long!"

"What are you talking about? I was at the Burrow for Sunday. You saw me then."

"That doesn't count. I hardly got to say two words to you. Tell me about your trip to New York." She crosses her arms and leans forward, her face eager. I don't know why, but she loves hearing about even the most routine of Auror missions Ron and I go on.

"Not much to tell. Went to New York, chased down a couple of guys, brought 'em back." I shrug and spread my arms. "That's about it." She looks disappointed and I want to tell her more, but I can't.

"But you didn't come see me when you got back. And I know you were back for a whole day before you showed up at the Burrow on Sunday. You usually have some sort of injury that I need to fix up." She leans back in her chair and pouts, arms still crossed.

"Sorry to disappoint you Gin, got off scot-free on this one." I didn't used to have such an easy time lying–Hermione was always better at it than either me or Ron–but something about being an Auror tends to make one's lying skills better. Furtively, I press my fingers against the spot on my thigh the bullet had torn through, thankful for the fugitive's unfamiliarity with Muggle firearms and bad aim. Almost a week afterward, it still ached a little.

Not picking up on my rather large untruth, she smiles and shrugs. "Well, I guess I should be glad then. I was getting tired of you showing up all bloody."

"I told you, Gin. Whenever I get fucked up in the line of duty, I'm coming to you." I give her my most winning smile and I am pleased to see her skin flush.

"As long as that's not the only reason you continue to cultivate my friendship."

"Now, you know that's not true." I take my hand off of my leg and reach for her small hand, lacing our fingers together. Looking down at her wrist, I notice something different. "Where's your bracelet?"

"Oh," she says, drawing her hand out of my grasp, "the clasp broke, just this morning."

"Reparo didn't work? Let me have it and I'll take it to get it fixed."

"No, I'm sure Reparo will work, I just didn't have time this morning. I was running late. I'll try it when I get home tonight." She looks down at her own hands and doesn't say anything else. If being an Auror makes you good at lying, it also makes you good at detecting lies in others and I can tell that Ginny is not quite telling me the truth.

I let her sit quietly for a moment before speaking again. "Gin, is there something you want to tell me?"

She takes a long breath and looks back up at me. "I've met someone, Harry," she says simply, waiting for my reaction.

"And?" I ask belligerently, trying to squelch the unsettled feeling in my stomach.

"And I love him."

"And?"

"And that means we can't do that thing we do sometimes any more."

"That thing we do? You mean fuck?" I know I'm being an utter twat about this, but I can't help myself. We've been going along in our screwed up way and I like it, I don't want anything about it to change and I lean back in my chair, folding my own arms across my chest defensively. "You've had boyfriends, I've had girlfriends. Never made any difference before," I say, conveniently ignoring the one time, the first time, when it had made a big difference.

"Harry, listen," she begins, giving me a hard look, "I know what we've done in the past and I think that it's time we...didn't do that anymore. Mattie–"

"Mattie?" I snort, sounding like even more of a twat.

"Matthew," she says, grinding the name out through gritted teeth. "Look, Harry, if you're going to be a jerk–"

"Okay, sorry, sorry." I pinch the bridge of my nose and close my eyes, feeling a headache coming on. Inhaling deeply, I look back at her and fix a pleasant look on my face. "I'm listening, Gin. Tell me about Matthew."

"I don't know if I want to now. Harry, I thought we were friends."

Oh Christ. "Gin, we are friends. Come on, tell me about your new boyfriend." I reach out and take her hand back in mine and she does not pull away this time.

Relenting, but still on guard for more snarky comments from me, she tells me about him. Matthew Hudson. "He's four years older than me and he was in Ravenclaw at school. He didn't play Quidditch and he wasn't in the DA, so I don't think you know him. He's a Healer at St. Mungo's and he's really good."

I paste an interested look on my face as she goes on, telling me how they met and began having lunch together before he finally asked her out on a date for her birthday. It turns out she's been seeing him for about a month and I am stung that she is just now telling me. And, it's only been a month! How does she know she's in love with him, anyway? I tell her as much and she glares at me.

"Okay Harry." She checks her watch and takes her hand back. "I've got to get back to work." She reaches into her purse and I wave her off.

"I've got it." I toss some Muggle money down on the table and stand, my still-healing thigh protesting only a little. We walk back to the Ministry in silence, not touching at all which is unusual for us. It seems that one of us has always got a hand on the other somewhere, a fact I never noticed until Ron pointed it out one day.

"Is there something you want to tell me about you and my sister?" he'd asked one day during our third year of Auror training.

"No. Why?"

"Well, it's just, you two always seem to be...touching each other."

"Ron, don't be daft. Ginny touches everybody."

"Not the way she touches you." As soon as he said it, I knew it was true, but I tried to discount him.

"Look, we're just mates is all. You and me, we're mates and we're always hitting each other."

"Hitting yes. But you and Ginny, it's different."

I'd laughed him off and thought about what he'd said after I was alone. It was true, I'd realized; we were always touching each other in some way. Never anything like holding hands or anything like that, but if we were in a line up or something, one of my hands usually ended up on one of her shoulders. When we talked, she would frequently reach out and touch my arm for emphasis, something I'd definitely seen her do with others, but now that I thought about it, she always seemed to linger just a touch longer than necessary with me. And, sometimes, it seemed like she went out of her way to ruffle my hair...

I flash back to that fateful night she Apparated into our kitchen and tripped over my shirt. That night set the tone for us; she never stayed. Even when we were together at her place, one of us had to go. Understandably hesitant to tell Ron that his little sister and I were shagging buddies, I haven't said a word to him, but I suspect that he knows something is going on.

Once we arrive at the entrance to the Ministry, Ginny turns back to me and rests her hand lightly on my bare forearm. "Thank you for lunch, Harry."

"No problem, Gin. Thanks for getting me out of the office."

"Are you coming to the Burrow for Sunday?"

"Is your mum cooking?" Ginny smiles and nods, her hand still on my arm. "Then I'll be there."

"Good. I'll be bringing Matthew and I really want you to meet him."

"Can't wait!" I say, hoping my smile doesn't look too much like a grimace. I watch her Disapparate back to St. Mungo's and I go back to my own cubicle, knowing that I am ruined for work the rest of the day.

Despite my fervent wishes, Sunday comes and with it the weekly dinner at the Burrow. Ever since the lunch with Ginny I have been wracking my brain for a way out of it, but I know it's futile. The only way I would get out of a Sunday dinner at the Burrow is if I were dead or out of town and since our return from New York, Ron and I have been on light duty.

"Harry? You ready to go?" Ron's voice comes through the door of my room and I sigh.

"Go on ahead, I'll catch up," I call back.

"You sure, mate?"

Oh for Heaven's sake. "Yes, Ron, I'm sure." I shake my head as I hear Ron's footsteps move down the hall. I don't hear him Disapparate and I smile. Handy trick that, the Auror's silent Apparition.

I can't put it off any longer and I scrub my fingers through my hair and get up off the bed. I grab a black tee shirt off of the floor and pull it over my head, pausing halfway. The shirt smells awful and I throw it back down and begin rummaging through my drawers. I grab a clean gray tee shirt and pull it on, moving to my wardrobe and taking a dark blue button down shirt from a hanger. I shrug it on and leave it open, rolling up the sleeves to my elbows.

In the loo, I survey my reflection and I decide to tuck the tee shirt into my jeans, glad to not be wearing anything black for once. I pull on my trainers and shove my wand into my back pocket after futilely running my fingers through my hair.

"Time to face the new boyfriend," I mutter and visualize the back garden of the Burrow, silently appearing seconds later.

"Harry dear!" I turn around and see Molly coming toward me, an unstoppable force in a well-worn apron, her arms outstretched. One second later I am wrapped up in her arms and she is rocking me from side to side. She kisses me soundly on the cheek and finally lets go of me, straightening and smoothing my shirt. "I'm so glad you're here! It's like we hardly see you these days. You should come round more."

"I come around too much as it is! You must be sick of the sight of me!" I exclaim, eyes darting around the back garden. Everyone must be in the house and I follow Molly into the familiar kitchen. Penny, hugely pregnant, is peeling potatoes at the table, a small child playing with a few peels underneath it. She greets me warmly and I stoop down, placing a dry kiss on her warm cheek.

"All right, Martin?" I ask the child under the table. He nods solemnly at me and goes back to his peels.

Delaying the inevitable, I nose around the simmering pots and pans on the stove, getting in Molly's way until she hands me a beer and shoos me into the lounge. Maintaining a death grip on the frosty bottle, I push the door open and step into the lounge.

A burst of laughter greets me and I see him, this gate-crasher, this squatter surrounded by bright red heads. They are laughing at something he's just said, probably a joke of some sort or a funny story. Their laughter sounds traitorous to me and I shake my head, knowing I'm just being petty and jealous. I notice Ron is not among them and I turn to see him standing apart, leaning against the fireplace and I join him.

"Hey," he says, nodding his head at me.

"Hey." I take a sip of beer and gesture toward the handsome blonde man on the couch next to Ginny. "That him?"

"Yep."

"What do you think?"

"Dunno. Okay I guess."

Ron's answers are noncommittal and I wonder if it's just borne of being an overprotective brother or him not wanting to appear to like the new guy out of loyalty to me. I know what he is thinking because I am thinking it too; you didn't bring a boyfriend or girlfriend to Sundays at the Burrow unless it was serious. Ron and I have yet to bring a girl to Sunday and here is Ginny with this Matthew fellow.

"Harry," she exclaims, finally looking up long enough from her boyfriend to notice me standing next to her brother, "there you are! I was beginning to wonder if you were going to give us the slip today!" She looks at me with a stern expression and I wonder if she is doing this to make me feel better for the way I spoke to her at lunch.

"Gin, you know I could never come up with an excuse good enough to get out of Sunday dinner!" This earns a hearty laugh all around from the George, Arthur and Percy and I hear a soft snort from Ron. Ginny giggles and I am glad to see that she doesn't hate me for my terrible behavior at lunch the other day.

"Well, I'm glad you're here. Come here and meet Matthew!" She beckons to me and I walk slowly to the couch, trying to look interested in this prick.

As I approach, he stands and straightens his tie. A tie for shit's sake. Christ. I come to a stop in front of him and I notice that I am ever so slightly taller than him and I feel irrationally proud of this. Even up close he looks perfect. He is possessed of that flawless Nordic coloring that I know will only mellow and look better with age. He puts his hand out in front of him and I take it, willing myself not to squeeze too hard and make an arse of myself in front of my adopted family.

"Harry Potter," he says, letting go of my hand. I see his eyes flick upwards to my scar and back down to my eyes. The action makes me want to strike him. "I remember you at school. You're a hard one to miss." His voice is jovial and he looks for approval at his minor jest.

"Yeah. I, uh, don't really remember you though. You didn't play Quidditch, am I right?"

"No, I'm afraid I went for the more scholarly pursuits at school. Not coordinated enough for sport." A self-deprecating laugh and another search for approval.

"You weren't in the DA, either."

"No, I was not. I believe it was invitation only, am I right? Listen, I understand you were involved with one of my housemates, Cho Chang, I believe?" Oh, he's sly, this Matthew Hudson.

I don't answer and we stand, locked in our detente until Arthur clears his throat. "Ah, Cho Chang. I believe she works in the Regulation of Magical Creatures office, right Percy?" Arthur's comment sends us back to our neutral corners and I move back to stand next to Ron.

Continuing to sulk by the fireplace, I watch Ginny and Matthew. He leans back against the couch, his arm draped easily around her shoulders. His long fingers play with the ends of her hair, rubbing the strands between his fingers and the simple gesture ignites a hot flame of jealousy inside of me.

George makes a joke I don't hear and the assembled group laughs uproariously and I almost ache to see Ginny with her face flushed and eyes sparkling. She looks at me and I see her smile falter at my undoubtedly mirthless expression. I turn my head away, wishing I were anywhere but here.

Like a benevolent goddess, Molly sails through the door and announces that dinner will be ready shortly and we are needed to help set up the tables in the back garden. Ron and I almost run outside and set up the tables, reminding me of that long-ago dinner the night before we left for the Quidditch World Cup. Ginny had been laughing at the table-crashing antics of her brothers and I remember my heart almost stopped at the sight of her.

Soon we are seated and eating Molly's delicious dinner. I had taken care to sit at the opposite end of the table from Matthew and Ginny instead of my usual spot right across from her. I see her frown at this, but I resolutely ignore her and I pretend to be absorbed in what Percy is saying about work at the Ministry.

Another handy Auror trick is the ability to fake attention at one thing while really paying attention to another. Ron and I employ this ability quite flawlessly during dinner, hanging on the interloper's every word. To be perfectly fair, his conversation is very intelligent and his manners are impeccable, but every time I catch him touching Ginny out of the corner of my eye, I have to resist the impulse to throttle the life out of him.

"Wanker," Ron mutters next to me, shooting Hudson a dark look. Hazarding a glance, I see that he has her hand casually clasped in his on top of the table. Raising my eyes to her face, our eyes meet and I feel a hot flash course through me and I slide my eyes away, struggling to keep my face impassive.

Desperately I try to come up with ways to get away from this torture. I think of faking an Auror summons, but Ron would know my deception immediately and I can't risk him giving me away. Glumly resigned to my fate, I take a long sip of my elderflower wine and wait for an appropriate moment to present itself.

"Excuse me while I fetch the pudding." Molly begins to rise and I quickly stand up.

"No, I'll get it. You've worked hard enough on all this."

"Oh thank you, Harry darling." She smiles at me and places her hand on my arm, much like her daughter does. Fleeing her touch, I walk quickly into the kitchen and take a deep breath, my palms hard against the cool tile of the worktop.

What is my problem, exactly? It's just Ginny for fuck's sake! Why am I so bothered by this new boyfriend? She's gone out with plenty of blokes before and I never gave them so much as a second thought. I love him, she'd said. He was here for Sunday at the Burrow. He was meeting her parents. ...we can't do that thing we do sometimes any more. Is that all that's bothering me? Christ, I didn't think I was that damn shallow. "Pull it together Potter," I mumble, picking up the elaborate trifle and carrying it carefully to the waiting crowd outside.

I have no taste for it and the overwhelming sweetness of the pudding almost makes me gag and I quietly slide my dish over to Ron who devours it without question. Soon after all of the trifle is consumed, it's time to clean up and as I always do, I help, carrying in stacks of plates.

"No, Mum, you stay and have a chat with Matthew. I'll handle the clean up tonight." My stomach tightens to hear her voice, knowing that she'll be in the kitchen in a matter of moments. For a panicked second, I think about Apparating out, but that would be running away and that's something Aurors definitely don't do.

Working at the sink, I set the dishes to washing in the hot, soapy water and I feel her hand on my shoulder and hear her voice in my ear. "Jamie?" she asks, the sound hesitant.

"Gin," I return, refusing to acknowledge my old nickname.

"Harry." She tosses flatware into the busy sink and Ron walks in with a load of serving dishes. He sees the two of us standing there and he sets the dishes on the worktop, turns on his heel and strides back out. I curse and bless him with equal measure in my head.

"Harry," she repeats, laying her damned hand on my shoulder again, "Is this how it's going to be? Turn around." Sighing, I oblige her and fix my gaze over her head, staring at the antique china cabinet on the opposite wall.

"What?" I huff, blowing my fringe out of my eyes with an annoyed breath. I know I am acting like a spoilt child, but I can't seem to help myself.

"Look at me." I flick my eyes down to her and then back up over her head, hearing her snort of irritation. "Fine, be a prat, then. Listen Harry, I don't know what your problem is, but you'd better sort it out soon."

"I wasn't aware I had a problem." The words are out of my mouth and I mentally slap myself for sounding like a whinging baby.

"You haven't said two bloody words to me all night! I feel like you've been ignoring me. I thought we were mates, Harry."

The hurt in her voice hits me hard and I close my eyes and swallow. "I'm sorry Gin." I look down at her and finally meet her eyes, shoving my hands in the pockets of my jeans because if I don't, I know I won't be able to resist touching her. "Um, I don't think I like Matthew too awful much." Understatement of the year. I hate his fucking guts.

"You just have to give him a chance. He's really a good guy, Harry. I don't think that's all of it, though." Cursing her perceptiveness, I rake my hand through my hair and blow out a harsh breath. "Are you upset because of what I said at lunch the other day?"

"No." I protest in the manner of an immature child and cross my arms over my chest.

"Harry," she says, a note of warning in her voice.

"How can you say you love him after being with him for only a month?" I ask, repeating my question from the ill-fated luncheon. I want to reach out and touch her so badly but I just cross my arms tighter and look away. "How come..." it's not me, I finish silently.

"That is it!" Her eyes snap with fire and she angrily snatches up a dishtowel and begins wiping down the worktop. "I should have known. You know, Harry, I'm sure you can find a girl that's more than willing to hop into bed and shag you six ways from Sunday because I certainly won't be doing it anymore!"

I feel a hot rush of anger at her words and I clench my fists at my sides. Her back is to me and I move to stand close behind her, feeling the heat of her body against mine. "Is that true, Gin?" I whisper, my breath hot in her ear. "Tell me, have you let Hudson have a go yet? Have you shagged him? Have you fucked?" I feel her body stiffen and I grab her shoulders to stop her from spinning around and delivering the slap in the face I so richly deserve. "Is it good with him? Does he make you feel as good as I do? Do you scream when you're with him?"

"You sodding bastard!"

These angry words from her hurt, but I have a good head of steam now and I can't stop the words coming out of my mouth. "I hope he makes you come hard, Gin, because I certainly won't be doing it anymore!" I whisper these last words through clenched teeth and I whirl away from her, striding from the kitchen and out into the cool air of the garden. I don't hear any steps behind me, so I know she's not coming after me and this makes me feel both relieved and sad.

Outdoors, I avoid Ron's gaze and make my excuses to Molly and Arthur, telling them I don't feel well. That, at least is not a complete lie. I feel like shit and Ginny probably hates me now and I don't know what I can do to make it better.

Standing up like he's giving some sort of recitation at school, Hudson sweeps his perfect blond hair back and extends a hand out to me. I can see he's loosened his tie and is looking carefully casual. "If you like, Harry, I can give you a quick diagnosis here. Fix you right up."

That's the last goddamned thing I want at the moment and I shake my head. "No, I think it's just the time change. From New York. I'm just going to go have a lie down."

"Oh dear! Ron, are you still feeling the time change?" Molly gives a look of motherly concern to Ron and he glances at me.

"No, Mum. You know me, I usually adjust pretty quickly to things like that. Maybe Harry caught some sort of American bug." And that's why he's still my best mate after all these years.

"An American bug, eh? You know Harry, you need to be careful with those sorts of things. You should really come by St. Mungo's the next time you're going abroad for a bit of an immunity booster." Jesus Christ! He just won't stop!

"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind." Managing to keep my tone civil, I say goodnight and Apparate out of there just in time; the last thing I see is Ginny emerging from the kitchen and she does not look happy. In fact, she looks like she's been crying.

Blessedly alone in my bedroom, I collapse on my bed and stare blankly at the ceiling, my insides feeling all twisted up. I have never told her I love her. I have never told her I wanted only her. She never said if she wanted only me and now I guess I have my answer. Too many things in our occasionally complicated relationship have been left unsaid and I guess now, it's too late.

"Potter, you are a prick. If she never speaks to you again, it's more than you deserve. She needs a friend, not a bloody petulant child. Get your fucking act together and be her best mate. Be happy for her, you arsehole." Verbal scolding over, I kick off my shoes and turn over onto my stomach, mentally exhausted by the evening. Tomorrow, I will make things right, if she'll allow me.