AN-No copyright infringement is intended, nor is a profit being made.
This story is rated M for future sex and language. Sets place after DH, but before the epilogue…kind of...I guess it ignores bits and pieces of it.
This story includes a few of my favorite things-good food, gay men, and Harry Potter. I hope you enjoy.
And to think, it all ended because he couldn't choke down Ginny's food another night.
After yet another long day, Harry was late. Again.
And Ginny was fuming. Again.
It was dinnertime and tensions were already pretty high before the food was even on the table.
The day had been long and tedious; a new batch of would-be Aurors started training under him and Ginny was forever swamped in paperwork working the legal side of the twin's joke shop.
Dinner would be choked out and hurried, no doubt.
He had apparated a block away from Grimmauld Place and walked home briskly, hunched over against the sharp wind, mouth set in a grim line.
He had hoped he would beat Ginny home, but as he paused outside his front door he caught a whiff of charred meat and knew she was there.
With a curse, Harry whipped open his front door. Grimacing at the haze of smoke that greeted him, Harry shed his cloak and hung it up before stomping to the kitchen.
Ginny stood before the ancient stove with her hands fisted on narrow hips, a confused look on her face.
The lamb chops Harry had purchased just the day before sat in his prized extra –wide nonstick skillet, burnt to a crisp.
Teeth set, he greeted Ginny before grabbing a butterbeer and settling at the oaken dinner table.
"You didn't have to cook dinner; I was kind of looking forward to cooking those chops." He said lightly, leaning back in his chair.
Ginny scowled and poked at the offending meat. "I don't mind. Besides, I like my meat well done, not pink like you usually leave them."
Harry just nodded silently. He watched sadly as Ginny speared each chop, shaking them loose on to prepared plates.
Turning towards Harry, she plastered a smile on her flushed face and set the plate before him. "Eat up!"
He had planned a nice risotto with fresh peas, maybe a little mushroom and garlic, to go along with the meat. A glass or two of unpronounceable wine, maybe some candlelight to make it really special. For dessert, a simple fruit plate-maybe Ginny would share it with him under the stars like days past.
Instead, his dinner sat on his plate like a drab palette, a depressing array of blackened meat, rolls, and limp asparagus.
He could feel Ginny's eyes boring into the top of his head as he studied his food. "Something wrong?" She finally asked voice tight with accusations.
Fist tight around his drink, Harry met her eyes. "You knew I wanted to cook these special for us."
Ginny rolled her eyes dramatically and picked up her knife and fork. "Honestly Harry, its just meat."
Harry nodded his head slowly. "Just meat I bought to cook a nice meal for us. Just the meat I had my butcher cut just so because I know you don't like a lot of fat. But yeah, it's just the meat I had plans for."
Ginny scoffed and slapped her utensils back down. "My god, if this is the way you're going to act every damn time I try to do something nice for you then this will be the last time it happens!"
Leaning back in his chair, Harry studied her as he rolled his bottle of butterbeer between his palms. "I wouldn't have minded you cooking them, even if you murder every piece of meat you touch, if you didn't do it just for spite."
Ginny all but growed and crossed her lanky arms over her chest. "For spite, really Harry? If you want to do things special for me, why not take me out every now and then? All we do is this!" She gestured to them sitting at the table. "And I'm tired of it! Take me dancing, take me to a show, take me out Harry!"
Wearily, Harry sat his now warm bottle of butterbeer down on the table. It was an argument they have had before, and often.
Ginny was a social being; she loved throwing herself into a crowd and being seen. Being seen with Harry in her clutches was all the better.
Harry was the opposite, a fault that Ginny couldn't ever seem to accept. On days when he wasn't working, Harry liked to spend his time a little quieter.
He would browse the local markets, wizarding and muggle alike, for hours on end. After buying way too much food, he would usually end up cooking it all and throwing an impromptu party of sorts.
The gatherings have always been a highlight for Harry, a time to relax and catch up with his friends and family was always welcome. In the beginning, Ginny seemed to enjoy their parties as well. When things slowed down, she would be the one to crank up the music and open another bottle and get things started again.
After a while, Ginny started to grow bored with his parties. Harry suspected it was just too normal for her, to have a big meal with the same old people. So then she would turn to him for 'outside entertainment'.
He would relent and they would go out to the cinema, maybe grab a meal and some drinks at some place 'not to weird', and Ginny would be sated for the week.
But now work for Harry was at its busiest time of the year, and Ginny's girlfriends were busy with their families and kids.
So Ginny was antsy to get out of the house, and all to keen to keep letting Harry know.
"We went out last weekend!" Harry groaned. They went dancing, or Ginny danced circles around him while he swayed stiffly.
Pushing away from the table, Harry stood and tossed his bottle in the garbage. He plucked up his skillet and began to gently scrub off the burnt mess. "Maybe this Sunday we can go for breakfast at that new bistro I told you about?" he asked, not turning away from the sink.
Cursing, Ginny dumped the remains of her dinner into the bin and chunked the dirtied plate onto the counter. "No! No more half-assed breakfast dates. Would it kill you to put a little effort into spending time with me?"
After a quick drying spell, Harry studied the pan thoroughly before slipping it back onto its rack about the stove. "Let me get this straight. You want to go out on dates with me, but you shoot down every suggestion I give and offer none of your own. So what am I supposed to do here Ginny?"
"Try harder! It's like you have just, totally checked out Harry." Ginny complained.
Harry turned and faced Ginny, resting his hip on the stove. "Maybe you're right."
Ginny blinked in surprise. "So it's that easy for you to just, throw away all the years we've been together?"
He thought for a minute before answering. "Easy? No, I wouldn't say that Ginny. We've been together since Hogwarts, since the War.", he said, voice growing soft that the wave of memories that washed over him.
The nightmares.
How his dreams made every battle, every person who passed, haunt him for nearly a year after he killed Riddle.
Ginny was there, moping his brow and clutching his hand at 4am.
The crushing guilt.
It took him a full three months to go back to the Burrow. To risk seeing a look of accusation in Molly's eye would have kept him away forever if Ginny didn't drag him over there.
Yes, during the aftermath of the War, Ginny was firmly by his side and he would be forever grateful.
"But.", Harry started again. "Nearly a decade has passed since those times, and I'm doing pretty well, all things considered. And that seems to the problem. Since you don't have to coddle me anymore, you have grown bored with me now that I've regrown my backbone."
Ginny sputtered, but Harry cut her off with a raised hand. "I've got a successful job, maybe a little too successful. I've got great friends, a few coins in my vault, and my own house. I'm not a project anymore, Ginny. I'm a grown man standing on his two feet, something I thought you wanted."
Ginny remained silent, watching as Harry continued to tidy the kitchen. She spoke at last, voice weak. "I'm sorry you feel this way Harry. I wish you would have told me this sooner. I thought I was a good companion for you, a good match. I always pictured us together for-"
Harry whirled around to face her, eyes bright with anger. "Don't you dare pull that 'poor innocent Ginny' act on me! Together forever huh? Where was that attitude when I proposed to you? "
Ginny took a step back as the lights dimmed ominously around them. Harry was slow to anger these days, but when he did his magic sharpened to a point and filled a room with its power.
Taking a breath, Harry smiled bitterly at Ginny. "Exciting enough for you?"
Not waiting for a response, he marched past her and went into the front room. Ginny hurried behind, heels clacking loudly on the floor. "Where are you going?" she demanded, hands on hips.
Harry stood by the front door tugging on his worn leather jacket. "I'm going to get a fucking medium-rare lamb chop. When I get back home, I would appreciate if my kitchen was clean and you were gone."
Harry opened the door and walked out into the night, closing the door quietly on Ginny's screaming.
As he walked around the corner, Harry risked a grin. Maybe it seemed sudden, but Ginny knew as well as he did that their relationship has been over since she turned down his proposal months before.
The smiled dropped off his face as he remembered the morning he had popped the question.
It was January 2nd, the day after Harry's annual New Year's Eve bash. After a few rounds of some potent Headache Draughts, they returned to bed for a safe breakfast of dry toast and strong coffee.
Ginny was pressed against his side, flicking lazily through the pictures she had taken the night before. She laughed at their friends, pointing out glazed eyes and crazy hairdos.
Dropping his toast onto the breakfast tray, Harry pulled the pictures out of Ginny's hand and tossed them aside. Ignoring her complaints, he took her hand in his own. "Let's get married." He blurted out.
No, it wasn't perfect, but Harry was happy and wanted that moment to last.
Ginny ripped her hand away from his as if he were on fire. "Marriage? So soon?"
Warning bells went off in his head then, but he foolishly ignored them. He startled her was all, in a moment her arms would be wrapped around his neck and Ginny would be a step closer to becoming Mrs. Harry Potter.
But instead she jumped out of the bed and the excuses began to flow.
Harry scowled, remembering the back and forth between them that lasted days, weeks.
About a month after he had first asked, Ginny 'relented' and said she would "think about it".
By then, Harry knew it was over, but the hope for a happily ever after kept him hanging on...until the want for a nice piece of meat threw him over the edge, apparently.
With a shrug, Harry apparated to the front door of one his favorite restaurants.
He had returned that night comfortably drunk and painfully full to a quiet house.
He immediately made his way to his kitchen to check out the damage. When angered, Ginny tented to be loose with the destructive curses.
Entering the kitchen, Harry winced at the bright lights that sprung to life at his presence.
The stove was bare, as was the sink. Releasing a sigh, Harry turned to leave the room when he noticed something out of the corner of his eye.
In the middle of his beautiful farmhouse table was a mess of twisted metal and splintered wood.
With dreadful curiosity, Harry moved closer to examine the object.
Only when he grabbed hold of a chunk of wood did it click- His pan.
He chuckled lowly and shook his head, banishing the mangled skillet away with regret.
Swiping a hand over his face, Harry made his way upstairs to his bedroom. It hit him as got into his empty bed that he would mourn the loss of his favorite skillet longer than the loss of his relationship with Ginny.
The next day Harry woke late and rose later still, spending a good deal of the morning lounging in his bed. It wasn't until the want of food and tea became too hard to ignore did he pry himself out of bed and make his way downstairs.
An owl's peck on the window distracted him momentarily, but seeing that it was The Quibbler being delivered, he let his annoyance evaporate. Thanks to Luna he was the lucky recipient of a free lifetime subscription.
Slipping his magazine under his robed arm, Harry padded over to explore his fridge.
He didn't get far though, as the shelves held nothing but cold air. All food was gone, vanished by the flick of a certain redhead's wand. Ripping open the freezer door, Harry groaned. Even the ice bin was bare.
Slapping down his Quibbler, he hurried to his pantry.
The small space hadn't been forgotten either. The long wooden shelves were freed from their burden of pastas, the tins of vegetables, the preserves Molly sent over by the dozens.
As he surveyed the damage, a grim thought hit him. "Oh no.", Harry whispered aloud.
"Oh no oh no oh no.", Harry chanted, running back to the front hall. Near the base of the stairs was a tiny nook once used as a cloakroom. Having only three cloaks to his name and dozens of bottles of wine, Harry turned the space into a makeshift wine cellar, with the help of a few spells, of course.
Taking a deep breath, he opened the door a crack and peeked inside. "Oh thank God.", Harry sighed.
All the bottles were in place, lying smugly side by side on their racks.
With a thought, he crouched down and grabbed a bottle off the last shelf. He popped the cork with a wave of his wand, and took a long swallow straight from the cool bottle.
Fruit and sugar sweetness washed down his throat, drying his throat out more than anything else.
It was Ginny's favorite, in the year after the War ended.
Sitting the bottle on the floor, Harry rose and left to get dressed. He had a lot of shopping to do.