Written for the Houses Competition 2017: Practice Round
Gryffindor - Drabble - Prompt: "princess" - Word Count: 872
Mrs. Weasley is doing an excellent job of keeping Harry, Ron, and Hermione too busy to talk to one another. Yesterday, she had Ron repainting the shed, Harry cleaning the kitchen pantry, and Hermione {whose Charms work is the best} working in the garden. Today, Harry is assigned to tidy the attic {with careful instructions on how not to disturb the ghoul}. Bill and Fleur's wedding is still a week away, so Harry figures he can take a moment and breathe.
He sits with his back to the attic ladder, sweating in the hot, stagnant air. Harry knows he should be working, knows he should finish this task and then report back to Mrs. Weasley for more duties {or, perhaps, for a sandwich and cold glass of milk}, but he is distracted by the shelf full of photo albums.
He traces his finger along the spines: there is one labelled "Molly + Arthur at Hogwarts," one labelled "Wedding," and then one for each of their children {the twins share a book that is fatter than all but Bill's}. The albums are snug on the shelf, each book full almost to bursting, and Harry can practically feel the familial love inside each binding.
Harry's finger stops on Ron's book, and he smirks a little as he pulls the book off the shelf and opens it. The very first picture he sees is of Ron under a Christmas tree, swatting at an ornament. Harry chuckles and is about to turn the page when a voice startles him.
"Mum charmed the baubles to stay on the tree." Ginny is kneeling so close behind him that Harry drops the photo album. It hits the floor with a thunk, and Harry flushes.
"I, er, didn't hear you come up," he stammers, picking up the album and replacing it on the shelf. He doesn't look her in the eye.
Ginny snorts. "That's obvious," she says, gesturing towards the book. "You aren't even looking at the best album. Here, look," and she reaches for the book labelled "Ginerva" and takes it off the shelf. She brushes the dust off the cover and sits down next to him; their knees bump together, but Ginny doesn't scoot away. She opens the album and gazes at it fondly. She is highly aware of Harry sitting next to her avoiding eye contact, and she is determined to be as normal as possible despite him. Out of the corner of her eye, she watches him, waiting until he looks at the photo album.
"Ha, here, look at Fred's face when Dad told him I was a girl. He cried for two days and didn't want to hold me for a week." She indicates a picture of a three-year-old Fred wailing and a bemused Arthur holding a tiny bundle that Harry assumes is an infant Ginny.
"And here, Bill had just given me a ride on his broom. That was my very first flight, and you know I've been addicted ever since." She grins and Harry smiles down at the book. He appreciates her attempt at normalcy, and he can't decide if it is awful or wonderful to be in the same room as her.
"Oh, look!" Ginny begins laughing as she turns the page. "I'd forgotten that dress! Oh!" She tilts her head back and howls. Harry can't help gazing at her; her face is reddened with the heat of the attic and her glee, and her mouth is open wide. Her shoulders are shaking, and Harry catches sight of a tear in the corner of one eye. He glances down to see the picture that set her off, and he can't help the shout of helpless laughter that escapes him.
"What is that dress?" Harry leans closer to examine it, a challenge since Ginny is still shaking with laughter. He picks up the book from her lap and holds it closer, studying the picture curiously. In it, a young Ginny is wearing an outrageously frilly dress. It is bright pink, so pink that it hurts Harry's eyes, and it was obviously meant for an adult. The picture-Ginny is prancing proudly around the living room of the Burrow, holding up a foot of fabric in front of her so she can walk. On her head is a paper crown decorated with childish scribbles and a few beads haphazardly attached.
Harry puts the album back on Ginny's lap and gapes at her. Her laughter subsides into chuckles and she grins at him. "That dress," she announces proudly, tossing her hair back over her shoulder, "was my princess dress. I wore it when I wanted to boss my brothers around, because when I was a princess, they had to do what I said. I think Mum kept the dress… it's probably in one of these boxes" She shakes her head, remembering, and Harry finds himself entranced by her memories, by her telling. He thinks of the singular photo album he has of his own family, and he realizes the real gift that Ginny is sharing with him.
Impulsively, he grabs her hand and squeezes. "Thank you...for this," he murmurs, not sure how to articulate everything he's including in his thanks.
She squeezes back. "You're welcome, Harry."