Prompt fill for "Harry teases Ginny by telling his little kids about that Valentine she sent him when he was 12?"
Harry had always enjoyed watching Ginny get ready, right from the early years when she would sneak out of his cottage at the break of dawn to get back to the Burrow before her mother noticed she was gone. Back then, she'd complained that his gaze distracted her, so that her fingers would fumble over her plait or the buttons of her shirt. Now, with eleven years of marriage behind them, she claimed that he no longer distracted her.
That, however, did not stop him from trying.
The sky was making a valiant attempt to snow on February 14th, even though it looked more like sleet to Harry's eye, and so naturally the children were even more overexcited than usual. Already bathed and pyjama-d in anticipation of Aunt Andromeda's arrival, they had clattered into their parents' bedroom shrieking and yelling, where Harry had made an attempt to wrestle them into submission. It had only half-worked; his three children were now at least stationary, surrounding him on the bed, but they were all chattering away at speeds he hadn't thought possible.
Over at the dressing table, Ginny gave him a patented look in the mirror, eyeing his rumpled suit with exasperation. They'd long favoured Muggle restaurants for special events; on Valentine's Day in particular, places like Amortentia and The Everblooming Rose were bound to be packed with witches and wizards who would kill to espy the famous Potters on a romantic evening out.
Harry grimaced at his wife, who rolled her eyes and reached for her hairbrush.
"Daaaddy, why do you have to go?" Lily was demanding at the top of her voice. "I don't want you to go …"
"Because it's Valentine's Day," Harry explained patiently. "Mummy and I are going to have a romantic meal. That's what mummies and daddies do on Valentine's Day."
"Valentine's Day is poo," James announced matter-of-factly. "I think girls are yuck."
"Give it a few years," Harry told him wisely. James looked horrified.
"Why a few years?" Albus asked curiously. "Rose already fancies a boy at school. He's got a bike and he thinks that's better than a broom –"
Harry could see Ginny's eyes widen in her reflection as she fastened on her earrings. "Al, you didn't tell this boy you had a broom, did you?"
"No," said Albus after a moment's hesitation. To Harry's amusement, he quickly changed the subject "So why does Rose already like boys but James thinks girls are yuck?"
"I dunno … I think girls notice boys earlier," said Harry thoughtfully. He saw that Ginny was starting on her make-up, and a wicked thought occurred to him. "I mean, Mummy was only eleven when she sent me my first Valentine –"
Ginny gasped; her hand, holding her lipstick, jerked, leaving a thick red line across her cheek. "Don't you dare," she hissed furiously.
"No, tell us!" the children begged.
Harry leant back against the pillows and gathered his children to him.
"It was my second year," he began reminiscently. Ginny's ears were turning scarlet as she reapplied her make-up. "We had the awful Professor Lockhart that year, and he made a great thing of Valentine's Day – he sent singing dwarves around the school to deliver Valentines."
"That's horrid," said James disgustedly. "I hope he got sacked."
"Er - in a manner of speaking," said Harry. "Anyway, imagine my surprise when, as I walked to my next lesson, one of the dwarves came up to me and said they had a singing Valentine for me."
"Mummy, you wrote a song for Daddy?" Lily gasped. "How did it go?"
"That's a good question," Harry said quickly, before Ginny could speak – or possibly shout. "How did it go? Do you know, it was so long ago, I can hardly remember …"
His wife eyed him beadily, knowing perfectly well that he could remember, as James, Albus and Lily protested loudly.
"I think it went something like …"
Harry cleared his throat.
"His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad,
His hair is as dark as a blackboard.
I wish he was mine, he's really divine,
The hero who conquered the Dark Lord."
When he finished, there was a dead silence.
"Mum," said James eventually, "that's crap."
"Now," Harry remonstrated sternly. "She was only eleven, remember. Give her a bit of credit. At least it rhymes."
"I think it's … nice," put in Albus, the eight-year old diplomat.
"Me too!" said Lily loyally. "I like the bit about the fresh pickled toad."
"That's my favourite part," Harry agreed solemnly.
Ginny, who was by now crimson in the face, opened her mouth, no doubt to make Harry wish he had never opened his own – but at that moment, the doorbell pealed loudly, and the children screamed in delight, tripping over each other's limbs in the furious attempt to reach the front door and greet Andromeda first.
"Are you ready?" Harry enquired delicately.
"I hope the sofa is comfortable enough for you tonight," was all Ginny said in reply.