Disclaimer: This is fan fiction. It is not meant to infringe on Mrs. Rowling's rights, or those of Warner Brothers.
Date Night
Marriage is a permanent state of compromise; i.e. no one gets everything they want, but they get enough of it, so one doesn't have to hear about it the whole of the weekend.
And so, Mr. Harry Potter, knowing what was good for him, allowed himself to be pulled away from his Saturday night football on telly, because Ginny wanted to see an art house film.
An art house film.
All thoughts of feeling sorry for himself went plink, as she gracefully descended the stairs in shiny high heels and a sleeveless gossamer dress, her hair slightly curled, with just the faintest hint of rouged lips…very 40's. Oh well done Harry, he smiled to himself.
Ginny had sweetened the deal with the promise of a steak dinner after the show, so, let's see…he'd get to squire the beauty before him, and afterwards, have a mouth-watering tuck -in at his favorite restaurant. The between bit? Just a way to get from here to there.
They had a bit of bother with the directions, but the film had only just started as they entered the darkened theater. They navigated though the narrow, crowded rows, and settled in. Harry stared absently at the screen while meditating on a voluptuous twice-baked potato, sprinkled provocatively with fresh, crisp, bacon bits… he knew how to get through a boring…
He suddenly blinked at the screen.
Are you kidding? Is she…?
He blinked again, and sat up a little.
Are they? Oh, yes they are!
He stared in fascination, arranging himself for the best possible vantage point, as he tried to suss out a particularly exotic encounter.
Good god, is that an elbow? Oh no, it's not. Hello!
Harry lowered his eyes, and covered his mouth, laughing under his breath…she said it was an Italian comedy. No way would Ginny pick a film quite this…uh, candid. He looked back up at the screen, his eyes watering…
Oh good gawd, there they go again…
He stifled a laugh, and coughed a little, covering his mouth again .When he slumped down, and splayed his knees, his lower leg connected with another…he pushed against it, teasingly.
My dearest wife, what exactly have you gotten us into?
The leg pushed back.
Oh, that's how it is , is it , he laughed to himself. Well, we paid good money, we might as well look…
Oh good gawd…
He tilted his head to various angles…I know I saw that on Animal Planet.
When he reached for the armrest to pull himself up, a hand took hold of his, and squeezed.
What's this…safety in numbers? Oh no, Ginny, you are never going to hear the end of this, he laughed to himself.
He nudged the leg with his own…it nudged back.
Oh, it's leg wrestling you're wanting? What's on the screen isn't good enough…
He looked up, then back down, covering his eyes, as he shook his head, and chuckled.
Evidently, some people just don't know how to appreciate a good naked motor scooter chase scene.
He squeezed her hand, and laughed. How do I explain this at work? Let's see, I watched a bunch of sun-kissed Italians try to tie each other in knots, and have bare-assed run abouts on scooters… and you?
As the film was drawing to a close, Harry sat up in his seat, and gave her leg a nudge, just for good measure. She nudged back, defiant to the end. He leaned over in the dark, and laughed huskily, "You are so going to get it when we get home."
She nearly broke his hand, squeezing it.
The house lights came up, and Harry slowly turned to face her, his eyes suddenly becoming big as saucers.
As Ginny sat staring on the other side of Harry, she could not, for the life of her, understand why he, and Professor Dumbledore, were leaning over, convulsed with laughter, while holding hands.