Disclaimer: Oh how I wish I was British. But, alas, I am not. And I'm no J.K. Rowling. So, I give all the credit to her.
A/N: Hello again! I think this is my first G/H fic, though I'm not enterily sure. Which is sorta sad. ;) I can't get enough of the world of Harry Potter! So, shall we begin?
At The Burrow, there was a young couple on the couch. A couple with the names of Ginny and Harry Potter.
They were relativly alone, which was a rare treat for them, and they were loving it.
Harry's head was placed on a pillow in Ginny's lap and her hands were running absentmindedly through his messy hair, effecively making his hair even messier (making him look more - if that was even possible - like his father) and soothing him completely. A much needed soothing in her opinion, he was working hard as the Head of the Magical Law Enforcement to round up the very last of the Death Eaters, and all the stress was taking it's toll. She lightly traced the dark circles under his eyes with soft fingers and he let out a sigh of content.
The had been keeping up an easy conversation and were quickly running out of trivial things to talk about (Neville's new job, Luna's boyfriend - a desendant of Newt Scamander - , George and Angelina, the WWW, to name a few). Ginny wanted to keep the conversation going, even though she knew that if silence fell it would be comfortable, but she wanted to hear the sound of his voice before he left for work again. So she blurted, "I wanted to laugh."
Harry's eyes opened slowly and his green eyes focused intently on her brown ones, confused and amused, "At what?"
She looked away from his enchanting eyes, focusing on the grandfather clock in the room. All hands were pointed to work, except for her mum's, her's, and Harry's which were pointed at home. Her father had made a new clock, taking Fred off (which had everyone teary-eyed) and adding Harry and Hermione, despite both of their protests. She could feel his gaze burning a hole in her chin, which was as close as he could get to her eye's considering his position. "During the Final Battle of Hogwarts," she started in a low murmur, not wanting anyone but him to hear. She looked back down and focused on his scar instead of his eyes. Which turned out to be a bad idea, and she instead focused on her fingers twisted in his hair. "When you were fighting Voldemort, I . . ." She trailed off a slight - adorable in his opinion - blush coloring her cheeks.
"You..." Harry persisted, she knew that once she brought it up, there was no ignoring it.
"I wanted to laugh. I was looking at you staring the most powerful dark wizard in history with your life on the line, and I wanted to laugh." She was sure the tips of her ears were turning red in the famous Weasley blush - blending her face with her hair - and she glanced away from him, back to the grandfather clock, out the window (it was quite a nice day, perfect for Quidditch she noted pleasntly.), the mantle of the fire place where the Floo Powder would be a nice alternative than looking at him; anywhere but his soulful eyes.
His hand grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him. "It's okay, Ginny. Nothing to be ashamed of. It certainly wasn't supposed to be humorous. . ." he trailed off, the teasing Potter glint in his eyes, and he softly chuckled, releasing her chin and brushing a strand of red hair behind her ear. "That's what happened to Sirius, you know." Ginny's eyes snapped to his immediately and squeezed his hand in hers. She knew it was hard for him to talk about the closest thing he ever had to his father. "After Pettigrew went into the sewers and blasted up the whole street. Sirius was standing there, a huge crater around him, thirteen Muggles dead, my parents dead, and me gone. He just laughed. Laughed like a mad man, but still laughed. He was laughing when the Ministry finally showed up to throw him into Azkaban.
"I guess," he continued. "That too much stress, too many things all added up, can do that to you. I wouldn't know, whenever I feel too much pressure I throw around Dumbledore's stuff." His eyes darkened a bit before smiling.
And then, he burst out laughing. "I just told you one of my best kept secrets, and you're laughing?" She asked incredulously, the awe she felt from his short speech quickly turning into irritation.
"Imagine, we're in the Great Hall, I'm circling Voldemort - giving an bloody awesome speech, I might add - and suddenly someone bursts out laughing." He said, between chuckles. She let out a small laugh, too - not because it was necessarily funny, but because his laugh was rather contagious. And soon, Mr. Weasley came home to find his daughter with tears in her eyes, clutching her stomach, her husband the same.
He cracked a grin at the display and went up the stairs, unnoticed by the laughing couple.
A/N: Ah Arthur, he's so generous. So, what'd ya think?
I got this idea when staring at a picture of Sirius Black himself. Kind of odd, but I liked it. If you read my PJO 'I Have Photograph Memories' this is the story I was talking about. Kind of a nice change, don't ya think? This is also written for the PULL project (go to my profile for the link).
Review?