Warnings for the fic: Slightly A/U, doesn't follow Epilogue's timeline and ignores some info from JKR not included in the books. Adult language and situations.
Warnings for the chapter: Whipped cream, Herbology, a quote from My Fellow Americans, mentions of Dan, and a Harry who imitates Westley from The Princess Bride after being subjected to The Machine for the first time - minus the whole pain and life-draining thing.
Disclaimer: HP is not mine. Neither are Equus, The Princess Bride, or My Fellow Americans.
A/N: Much thanks to J for being a patient and helpful beta.
A/N2: J really liked the last part of this chapter. My husband just said I was an incredibly cruel and evil woman, but he's known that for years.
Chapter 6 - The Bouquet and the Sundae
As luck would have it, going to that damn play did the trick. Ginny was convinced that Harry was not leading a secret life as a Muggle actor and her brothers assumed the tickets had been her birthday present as no one had mentioned the fact that Ginny now had the latest enchanted entertainment system from Muggle Made Magic.
Unfortunately, going to the play had led to a bit of a crush on the actual actor. Ginny had reassured Harry, several times, that he was much sexier than Dan. This did nothing to appease his jealousy since Dan was generally said with a breathy sigh…by every single one of the women who'd gone to the damn play.
The only thing Harry saw as a positive was that none of their husbands knew that Dan resembled Harry. He was surprised that there was no grumbling about how often Dan got brought up over the course of the next week until George let him in on a little secret.
"None of the girls are ever going to do anything with this Dan," George told Harry doing an admirable impression of the sigh and the eyelash fluttering that usually accompanied it. "Who do you think reaps the benefits of all those boy-lusting hormones? All I have to do is ask Angie about the play and she's pulling me into the bedroom! If I ever meet this kid, I'm giving him a big sloppy kiss. Tongue, no tongue – his choice."
This, of course, gave Harry a mental image that he'd rather not have had and he'd left to search for Ginny immediately after that.
He did feel bad about the whole "fan girls" incident, though. It wasn't the first time he had been attacked by a bunch of women with Ginny nearby, but it was the first time since they had started dating. Although, Harry had to admit that witches were slightly calmer than the Muggle women had been. So as a way to prove he was romantic and say he was sorry, he sent flowers to her flat every day starting the day after "The Incident." He didn't want to overwhelm her, so he had a Muggle florist send small bouquets of whatever the nice girl at the counter suggested.
Over the course of the week, however, Harry was getting worried. Outside of a quick peck on the cheek, he wasn't even sure if she got any flowers. The week after "The Incident" was not great. Ginny came over to his flat only twice, but asked him not to come to her flat. There was no practice on Wednesday again, but Fleur went into labour early that morning and all the Weasley's spent the day in St. Mungo's waiting for news. Around six that night, Bill came out beaming and holding a tiny bundle in a blue blanket.
Ginny went back to her place for an early night after congratulating her brother and sister-in-law and Harry decided he needed help.
"Hey, Ron," his best mate turned to look at Harry as they walked out of the hospital with Hermione, George and Angelina. "Do you mind if I borrow your wife for a couple of hours? I need her help with something." Harry was a little taken aback by the gleeful smile on his friend's face.
"Sure, no problem! The two of you don't get together enough," Ron glanced over his shoulder to make sure that Hermione was still talking to Angelina about Dan and not paying attention to him. He lowered his voice after turning back to his best friend again. "Thanks, mate. I've been trying to find a chance to get into Muggle London to go to this specialty bookstore for her birthday present, but she's got a nose like a bloodhound, that one. Do you think you could keep her away from our house until nine or so?" Harry nodded, completely shocked by the fact that not only had his friend put thought into a birthday gift for his wife, he was doing so more than a month early.
That was how Harry found himself an hour later shopping in Diagon Alley, trying to work up the courage to ask Hermione for help and feigning interest in the clothes she showed him.
"What do you think of the blue, Harry? Harry? Oh honestly," Hermione heaved a long suffering sigh. "Are you even listening to me?"
"Hmm? Oh the blue is, er, lovely," he said, while trying to figure out how best to ask his questions without sounding like a prat.
"Lovely is not the word I'd use to describe anything for Ron," Hermione sighed again and put the article of clothing back on a pile. Harry never was quite sure what exactly she had tried to show him. "Did you have a reason for asking if you could come along with me? Because I'm not getting the impression it was to be helpful or to actually spend time with me."
Harry gave her a guilty smile and ruffled his hair. "You caught me. I, er, need some advice." In no time, he was telling her about how jealous he was of Dan and that Ginny hadn't wanted him to come over to her flat or spend much time with him that week and that she hadn't said much about the flowers.
"…and really, I don't care about the flowers. It's just that with everything else, I'm not sure what to think." Harry finally stopped talking, realizing that for all his preparation he had still sounded like a prat.
"You are a prat, you know that?" Hermione shook her head and smiled up at him fondly. "First of all, you have nothing to be jealous over. Daniel Radcliffe is ten years younger than you. He's a boy; you're a man. Ginny wants a man, end of story. Besides, who was it that lusted over Keira Knightley for a month after we saw that movie?"
Harry had the good grace to blush. He had been pretty childish about that little crush a couple of years back.
"The reason Ginny hasn't wanted to do much or have you over to her flat is because she's not feeling great this week," Harry tried to figure out why Hermione was making her 'I'm giving you a big hint, but I'm not going to tell you the answer' look.
'Ginny's been playing fine at practice, though. She hasn't acted like she was sick or anything. She did take that potion for muscle cramps…oh.'
"OH!" Harry rolled his eyes when Hermione actually clapped. "Give me break! I've never dated a girl for more than a week before. This isn't something I've ever really had to deal with."
Hermione just smirked and patted him on the arm. "Now, about the flowers. Ginny likes flowers, but it's obvious that you just told the florist to pick whatever they had available. It's sweet, but doesn't take much effort. I realize that is being really picky, but you want to show her how much you care, right? You have to put a little more thought and effort into it. Her favourite flowers are daffodils, but she also likes just about any kind of lily as well."
Hermione continued talking, but by then Harry was working out at plan to find a bouquet of daffodils for Ginny. He was so involved in his thoughts that he nearly let Hermione Apparate home around eight, but caught her just in time and quickly talked his friend into stopping at the Leaky Cauldron for a light supper. He sent her on her way a little after nine and headed to his own flat, intent on calling the florist in the morning.
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His girlfriend's favourite flower was only available during the spring and it was currently the end of summer. Why couldn't she have loved roses like the rest of the female population?
'I could get her lilies, but since I've tried just about every Muggle florist in England, I might as well see if Diagon Alley has anything.' Taking a fortifying breath, Harry Potter tapped his wand on the brick wall separating him from Wizarding central.
It was now Saturday afternoon. Ginny had Flooed him right after he'd finished his morning workout and invited him to her flat for supper that night. He'd looked for daffodils for two whole days now and he needed them in the next hour or he'd have to just settle for lilies.
It was with a silly grin on his face that he showed up at Ginny's flat carrying a large bouquet of big beautiful yellow daffodils. A small shop in Diagon Alley had had the elusive flowers and had sold him two dozen for only sixteen sickles. Harry had been so relieved that he'd given the clerk ten galleons and hurried out of the shop.
Ginny had loved the flowers. She gushed over them and told him eight different times that daffodils were her favourite. After her hot, wet "thank you" which started with his pants falling to his ankles and ended with both of them panting, Harry decided he had to find a way to get her daffodils at least once a month – or every bloody day if he could manage it.
Hermione was a genius and he vowed to find out what her favourite flower was and send her a giant bouquet.
After they finished eating the meal Ginny had prepared, she suggested a walk to a nearby ice cream parlour. The ice cream was wonderful and Harry made a couple of teenage girls sigh when he had leaned in to lick a drop of chocolate off of Ginny's cheek before giving her a searing kiss.
It had been an absolute perfect date.
At least, until they rounded the corner to Ginny's building and saw a police car out front. A dull alarm sound was heard coming from the building and they both rushed forward to ask what the problem was.
"We think a smoke alarm's going off in Flat 4A, but no one is answering the door." Ginny's eyes got wide and Harry rushed up the stairs while she tried to think up a story of why there would be an alarm coming from her flat.
He should have known those damn flowers were too cheap. They were Honking Daffodils – incredibly loud Honking Daffodils. A couple of spells later, Harry had silenced the bloody things, shrunk them down and put them into Ginny's bin.
By the time he got back outside, the neighbour who liked to play the Rolling Stones at two in the morning had a bloody nose and one of the officers was doing his best to hold onto Ginny without getting hit by her flailing arms and legs, while manoeuvring her into the police car.
"Just you wait 'til I get my…" Harry breathed a sigh of relief that the car door muffled out the word "wand." While her Muggle neighbours were distracted by the sight of Ginny being driven away in a police car, Harry had quickly Apparated to the Ministry. Robards got a good laugh out of Harry's story, but went down and spoke with the officers. With his help, Ginny was released with only a warning in no time.
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Later, much, MUCH later, Ginny would laugh about this date. Although, it probably wouldn't be until she was eighty-three, or maybe eighty-four.
On Friday, she had pointed out that they had absolutely no luck with dating outside of their flats. Harry had offered to make dinner at his place on the Saturday after the "Daffodils from hell," and Ginny had told him she'd bring the dessert.
It had been a week – a WEEK – since they had had sex. On Sunday, she had been too upset about the whole "getting arrested by Muggle police" for the second time in three weeks! Then their practices had been kicked up several notches for everyone, especially those on the starting and the first reserve teams. The most intimate thing the two of them could manage every night was helping each other rub down sore muscles with a cooling cream mixed with a pain tonic. They were no longer working out on their own in the mornings four days out of the week, so sex was out then as well.
To top it off, on Wednesday they had had to spend most of the day in photo shoots with various newspapers and magazines. Poor Harry was the worst off. The annual "Witch Weekly's Most Eligible Bachelor Contest" had chosen him (again) and this time magazines worldwide had finally agreed to the terms Harry had stated three years previously as the only way they'd get him to pose topless.
His terms were noble, of course. Each publication that ran pictures of him without his shirt had to donate fifty thousand galleons to an accredited charity in their country that benefited children, war victims or hospitals. If they wanted more than a page length interview from him as well, the price was upped to a full one hundred thousand galleons.
Therefore, after the team photos and interviews, Harry was off for a long afternoon with a photographer for a special edition that would include several past interviews as well as a lengthy one he had to give during the shoot.
Needless to say, when Harry showed up at Ginny's flat later that night, he was completely exhausted, though she got a good laugh over the descriptions he gave of what they made him wear. She made a mental note to buy a couple copies for herself of the pictures of him sitting on Sirius' old motorbike, wearing nothing but a pair of leather trousers.
Finally, Saturday evening had rolled around. Ginny walked into Harry's apartment, wondering how long she would last before she just jumped her poor boyfriend.
Harry had gone all out on the dinner: candles, flowers (normal lilies), wine, a table cloth and cloth napkins, matching plates and most of his flatware. The food looked divine.
'That is one thing. The man can definitely cook.' Laid out on the table were salad, soup and homemade bread. She could smell the roast and guessed he had made some sort of potatoes and vegetable as well.
What amazed her was that he could do all of this without his wand. In fact, using his wand would just have ruined the food. He didn't need to call her mother for recipes or to ask how long to thaw out the roast. Her feelings were mixed; he could cook this well because he would have been badly punished when he was a child if he didn't do it perfectly. On the other hand, he enjoyed cooking occasionally for his friends – as long as he didn't have to clean up by himself.
Between the fact that he had gone all out for her, and the fact that he stood there, smiling that sexy, crooked smile with his hair spiked up and messy and wearing his "manly" apron – she wasn't sure she could wait until after supper.
"What did you bring for dessert?" Either he was thinking along the same lines or he was completely oblivious. When he peeked into the bag and said something about making sundaes afterwards, she decided he was oblivious.
Dinner was wonderful, but not fast enough in Ginny's opinion. If she hadn't been so focused on dessert, she probably would have noticed the turn their conversation had taken about the time Harry served the roast, potatoes and asparagus. She almost ruined a perfectly lovely moment because she was so turned on by her boyfriend that she couldn't sit still and focus on what he was saying.
"…thinking a lot. I don't want to rush into anything, but I wanted you to know that, well, you're it for me. I'm not, er, proposing or anything, yet, but I love you. I love you so much, Ginny, and I can't imagine…" Right about then was when her brain kicked into gear.
"What? You, you love me?" Apparently this had not been the right thing to say as Harry's face tinged pink and his face fell. 'I have to salvage this, fast.'
"Harry, I'm so sorry. I was thinking about something, well, about you, and I wasn't listening as closely as I should have been." Harry looked away, hurt evident in his eyes. "Harry. Harry, please look at me." He finally did and it was hard for her not to cry at the pained look on his face.
"I love you, too. I have for years. I've known for a long time that was why I couldn't keep a boyfriend to save my life. None of them could possibly compare to you." She barely got out the last word before she was crushed to his chest, his mouth hot and hard on hers.
Their dinner lay forgotten as they moved towards the couch. Just before Harry pushed her onto it, she sprang away from him and ran into the kitchen to grab the bag she had brought for dessert.
Harry laughed and leaned back on his couch. "Trust a Weasley to choose dessert over sex."
Ginny just grinned back at him as she kneeled on the floor by his legs, reaching up to undo the buttons on his pants. "No, trust a Weasley to choose dessert and sex." Harry's eyes got wide as he watched her turn his penis into a whipped cream sundae complete with a drizzle of chocolate.
Harry was shaking in anticipation as Ginny lowered her head, tongue extended, to clean him off.
"Harry dear, I've brought you some of that chicken you asked about last weekend as well as a treacle tart." Neither Harry nor Ginny were able to come out of their shock fast enough to cover up the whipped cream and penis sundae, before Molly Weasley rounded the corner from Harry's kitchen into his living room.
No sound was made as Molly stood there and stared at her only daughter kneeling beside a half-naked man whom Molly considered to be her seventh son. It took a terribly pitiful whimper from a rapidly paling Harry for the two Weasley women to spring into action. A beet red Molly whipped around and stared at the wall behind her, as Ginny leapt up and grabbed a throw blanket from a nearby chair to cover him up.
Harry could only sit and whimper.
"It's okay now, Mum. He's covered up," Ginny whispered, her red face deepening until she could feel the heat of her blush. She couldn't do more than that as she was completely mortified and wanted to drop through the floor. She supposed it could have been worse. If her mother had come just a few minutes earlier, Harry's penis would have been displayed in all its erect glory.
'Or not,' Ginny considered to herself. 'It was a tough call. Mum finding out how depraved I am being with her surrogate son is probably not the lesser of the two evils.'
When Molly Weasley yelled, you knew you were in trouble, but also that you would be able to get away unscathed after being lectured and given a short punishment. It was when she whispered that her children were truly frightened of the consequences.
After a half-hour, whispered diatribe on the dangers of premarital sex (the worst of which, apparently, was disappointing Ginny's mother), they were told what Molly would do to them if they had a child out of wedlock. Harry had paled at the mention of a Castrating Charm and Ginny didn't doubt that her mother would snap her wand and send Ginny to live with her cousin Mafalda, who was a nun. Then, as was her mother's way, they were both given bone crushing hugs and told how happy she was that they had finally figured out what she had known for years.
After an awkward kiss on the top of Harry's messy head, Molly moved quickly to the Floo and they heard her shout "The Burrow" before they both breathed a sigh of relief.
Needless to say, there was no sex that night, just cleaning up from dinner and quietly settling down to watch a movie before cuddling up together in Harry's bed.
They had both recovered sufficiently by the next morning, however. Ginny was happy to find out that whipped cream and penis sundaes were in fact, fantastic.