WARNING: Contains HP Deathly Hallows SPOILERS!!!
This takes place in between the end of the Final Battle and the Epilogue of The Deathly Hallows. It's a story about Harry and Ginny and their lives three years after the Battle.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter!
Sometimes she caught him standing in the rain, out on the balcony of their flat. He looked the same every time: his shoulders thrown back, his face tilted up, and his eyes—his emerald green eyes—closed off to the world. She watched him and thought that maybe it reminded him of playing Quidditch in the rain at Hogwarts. One day it hit her though, with a sense of firm realization. He did it not because it reminded him of something, but because it had the calm effect of reminding him of nothing at all.
He walked in now, soaked to the bone. She hid behind her bowl sized coffee mug and pretended to be reading her book. She heard his feet padding lightly across the hardwood floor towards her and acted like she hadn't noticed. He came up behind her and began to run his fingers through her elbow-length hair and kissed the top of her head; unaware that he was dripping rain water onto her shoulders.
"What're you reading?"
She barely heard him she was so engrossed in his touch.
"A Muggle book Hermione sent me," she replied distractedly.
"Did she send a letter?"
Ginny nodded and gestured to the opened envelope on the table. She immediately regretted it when he stopped stroking her hair and walked around her to pick up the letter. He sat down opposite to her and began to read Hermione's fine script. Ginny stood up and went to the linen closet to fetch a towel, returning to see him take a sip of her coffee. The corner of her mouth twitched into a half smile. It had taken a long time for him to get like this—calm and happy. But then, it had been the same for everyone else they knew too. The Final Battle had taken the lives of many friends, and in Ginny's case, family. She glanced past Harry to the picture that sat on the mantle of the fireplace. Fred grinned back at her, making faces. Beside it Tonks and Lupin smiled back at her.
It had taken a very long time.
"So the wedding date's been set," Harry said as she placed the towel around his shoulders. He smiled up at her in thanks. "Do you know where it's going to be?"
"The Burrow," she replied, hugging him loosely from behind. "Mum's already throwing a fit. It will be Bill and Fleur all over again."
She regretted her words the second they were out of her mouth. Harry stiffened, "Hopefully not."
She sighed, remembering the attack. She was about to say something when Harry twisted around to look at her.
"Ron and Hermione: married. Who'd have guessed it?"
"Everyone," she laughed, glad to be away from the topic of Voldemort.
"You're right," he said, laughing too.
They were silent and Ginny disengaged her arms and sent her now empty mug flying to the sink with her wand. Harry stood up and stretched, tossing Hermione's letter back onto the table and drying himself off with a flick of his own wand.
"What do you want for dinner?" he asked.
When they had originally moved in, Harry had discovered he had some culinary skill and liked experimenting with cooking every chance he got. Ginny never had any objection to this, as she had not inherited her mum's own cooking talents.
"I dunno," she replied, sitting on the bar stool at the island in the kitchen. She took up her acoustic guitar strummed the chords clumsily. It had been his birthday present to her two years ago.
She began to play, lightly at first and then more strongly. After a moment or two she began to sing along; her voice mixing in pleasantly. Occasionally she'd look away from her fingers and watch him prepare the ingredients. She delighted in watching him cook, simply because he always did it the Muggle way. She didn't even think he noticed he wasn't using magic. It was just such a Harry thing to do.
"It's Teddy's birthday on Wednesday," she reminded him after a while, taking a break from singing.
"I'd nearly forgotten," he said, somewhat surprised with himself.
He spooned out a bit of sauce and walked over to her. Without interrupting her guitar playing he held the spoon to her mouth to let her taste his latest creation. She nodded in approval and he went back to chopping carrots.
"What on earth do you buy a three year old?" he asked her slightly flustered.
At the young age of twenty, Harry was an amazing godfather but sometimes Ginny got the feeling he thought he was in over his head. She shrugged in reply and switched songs to something slow and melodic. After the last verse she looked up.
Harry had stopped what he was doing. He was watching her intensely, but apparently unaware that he was doing so. Ginny stopped playing the last few chords and leaned the guitar against the island. Harry absentmindedly turned the stove top off and took a few steps towards her until he was standing directly in front of her, looking down.
He kissed her in a way reminiscent to what she had done on his seventeenth birthday.
A while later Ginny pulled her top back on and slipped back into her panties. On the stove their dinner sat cold and forgotten and on the floor, next to the island, Harry sat pulling his boxers back on.
"Do you want to marry me?" he asked as he stood up.
"What?" she wasn't sure if she had heard him correctly.
He came close to her and kissed both of her cheeks. He pressed a small box into her hand (he had silently summoned it when she wasn't looking) and kissed her lips too.
"Marry me?"
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