A/N: A labor of love for you all and for Hinny (and Teddy). We hope you enjoy this chapter!
Harry's name slides in via push notification and Ginny taps her phone screen at lightspeed. He's sent in a photo, she notices and hurries to open it. A small "oh" escapes her lips as she exhales sharply. It's him alright, just...tanned, two weeks beard spreading over from his jaw to his cheeks, deep emerald eyes twinkling in the rough daylight as he flashes her his crooked smile.
"Oh, Harry," Ginny sighs and presses the phone to her chest, as if the his virtual image can substitute the real him, his arms hugging her to him, chin resting atop her ginger head.
Still, she shakes off the lonely feeling because she promised herself she would, for him, for them, and allows her deft fingers to text him something flirty instead.
Gin: Where's the whip, Indiana Jones?
Harry: Saving it for later *wink*
Gin: Well at least you can leave your hat on
Harry: Wow you really are into this wild adventurer look
Gin: Yes, don't you dare take it away from me
Harry: Haha I was thinking about shaving, this beard is itchy
Gin: over
Gin: my
Gin: dead
Gin: BODY
Harry: Hear me out - I shave the beard but leave a moustache
Gin: I'm not even going to dignify this offense with an answer
Harry: Adorable *heart emoji*
Gin: I'll facetime you 24/7 if that means protecting that beard, mister
Harry: Deal
Harry: It's actually a win-win situation because I really miss your beautiful face
Gin: I MISS YOU TOO
Harry: Facetime or skype tonight, your timezone?
Gin: Yes please
Harry: Kiss Teddy for me! Later. Mummies and absurdly old artefacts have no patience
Gin: I will. You do your thing
Gin: And don't forget to find a whip to bring back home
Harry: Yes ma'am
It's how her days drag by, one after the other, as she waits for the night to settle in. It never feels enough, just seeing him, hearing the voice she's come to love and yearn for, but never being able to touch, to feel, to be with him. Sometimes, she's so frustrated she wants to scream, but really contains herself because Ginny doesn't want to be the reason Teddy cringes everytime he sees a woman when he grows up. And most of the time, she truly and dearly wants to erase Chile from the map or maybe hijack a plane, crash it near Harry, kiss him thoroughly and then proceed to return to England to patiently await his arrival.
"Seven more weeks," Ginny sighs and combs her fingers through her hair before securing it into a ponytail. Checking the time, she realises it's time to walk Snuffles, take Teddy to the park, drop by Ron's bakery and help him out, have dinner with her parents plus child and dog, and attempt to remain sane until she talks to Harry again.
"How are you holding up?" Ron asks her one hour later, leaning over the counter.
"Brilliant," Ginny replies, trying hard to keep her tone sarcasm free.
"I'll throw you a free doughnut if you tell me the truth," her brother grins as he waves a strawberry cream one under her nose.
"Unfair. You know full well those are my favourites!" Ginny scoffs and snatches the goodie from Ron's flour-glazed fingers.
"Yeah, and you know what else I know?"
"Hm?" She licks the tips of her fingers, doughnut already gone.
"That you're a terrible liar."
"Hark who's talking," she huffs, turning around to locate Teddy. Luckily, he's made a new best friend in the person of her niece, Victoire, a nearly four-year-old with looks to match her mother's.
"I beg your pardon?" Says a scandalised Ron.
"Don't beg, Ron. It's cheap." Ginny snatches another strawberry doughnut and grins at her equally ginger brother staring at her in disbelief, before he breaks into laughter.
"Say hello to Bill and Fleur for me, yeah?"
"And maybe giver Fleur a little kiss too?" She snickers, attempting to steal another sweet before Ron can bat her prying hand away.
"Are you here to make me go bankrupt, woman?" He shuts the case closed, securing it with a key he fishes from his apron's front pocket.
"Stingy."
"Greedy."
"Scrooge."
"Harpy."
"Tight-arsed."
"I beg to differ, I possess one brilliant piece of arse," Ron dismisses proudly.
"Sometimes I believe Hermione's too kind to you." Ginny rolls her eyes and suppresses a smile. She truly loves all her brothers, their quirks and jokes and wits included.
Walking over to the little couple, she caresses her niece's blonde curls and ruffles Teddy's light brown fringe.
"Who wants cookies? I heard that Uncle Ron's hiding a freshly baked batch in the kitchen, along with two glasses of milk with your names on it."
They're gone before she can finish, so Ginny waves at a confused looking Ron as he switches his gaze from the small army attacking his kitchen for no apparent reason to his baby sister, leaning against one of his most comfy settees and smirking like she owns the place.
"Gee-nee," a thick French accent claws at her eardrums and Ginny closes her eyes for a moment, shallow breaths drawn in and out as she tries to calm her poor, tried nerves. Despite all her efforts to appreciate all her sister-in-law's better qualities, there's still something in her that cannot get over many things, one of which being that said sister-in-law married her role model and brother, Bill.
"Everything alright there?" It's a man that walks beside the beautiful woman calling Ginny's name, his face displaying the same mess of freckles as hers, and Ginny smiles widely. She's still a little girl inside, and he's the superhero she'll always have.
"Oh yeah, they've been two little angels." Ginny grins mischievously as she pats the two little people's heads, bending down to help them out of their small shoes in the cottage hallway.
"Wrecked Ron's kitchen, haven't they?" Bill smirks proudly, lifting his daughter up on one shoulder as she squeals in delight.
"Didn't stand a chance," she winks, walks over to kiss the little bundle in Fleur's arms. They recently became parents for the second time, baby girl Dominique just as mesmerising as her mother and sister, with eyes the deepest gray of the ocean clashing into stones.
Bill laughs and spins his daughter once again, "That's my girl!"
"Are you staying for dinner?" Fleur asks as she grabs her long hair and flips it over her shoulder before her baby daughter can grab ahold.
"Oh, no, I've promised Mum and Dad I'll eat with them. Besides, I reckon Teddy's in need of some pampering, he's been a bit down since Harry left." She knows her brother can see through her slim facade, but still she plows on, regardless. "They're basically siamese, the two of them."
"I may be bold to assume, but how bout little Ted's not the only one missing Harry, eh?"
"It is bold of you." Ginny's frown rapidly melts into heart eyes and a smile so wide her cheeks hurt as her gaze stops upon the two children holding hands on the flowery armchair tucked in the living room, small feet dangling in the air.
"It's my turn to be bold and make assumptions, but somebody's gonna have a hard time separating those two as they grow up."
Ginny looks entirely too pleased with herself as Bill scoffs, pouts and strides over to take Vic's hand - her free hand, that is, for one is already in Teddy's gentle grip.
"Beel, don't be silly," Fleur's elegant laugh flows in as its owner floats - yes, floats, yet another thing Ginny can't quit forgive Fleur for - to her husband's side. "If she weel look like me, what weel you do?"
"I'd probably cry."
It's all Ginny can do not to spill all three strawberry-chocolate doughnuts on the family's venerable carpet, a relic from their Great Aunt Muriel, as her eldest brother and his wife make eyes at each other, gazes one notch too intense to digest.
"Come on, Ted, it's time to go."
The five-year-old jumps off the tufted seat, albeit reluctantly, and gives Ginny two big puppy eyes.
She smiles and kisses his cheek. "Alright, little buddy?"
"I like Vic," he whispers into her ear, then proceeds to stare at the floor.
"What do you say we bring her something nice next time. Would you like that?" The expression of pure delight on the boy's face is all the answer she needs. "Brilliant! Now call Snuffles and let's go have dinner before my Mum breaks and drags us over to the Burrow herself."
Teddy chuckles and they wave goodbye to family of four. And Ginny's eyes burn behind her eyelids, and she feels it's slightly hard to breathe, or maybe some of Ron's doughnuts stuck in her throat, who knows.
Three hours and much pampering later, both Ginny and Teddy are so stuffed they feel like rolling all the way home, and they might do it if it weren't for the big lump of a dog stealing food from the table whenever either of the diners wasn't paying attention. This is how Arthur finds the three of them laying on the front porch, Snuffles going belly up, Ginny and Teddy plopped into Molly's old rocking chair.
He jingles the battered set of keys on his index finger. "Need a ride?"
A strange guffaw is the answer he receives but he takes it as a solid "yes, please" and soon enough has the trio huddled up in the family's blue Ford Anglia, Arthur Weasley's pride and joy.
He patiently waits for Ginny to bathe and tuck Teddy in, absentmindedly cleaning the horn-rimmed glasses he's been wearing for the last decade with the sleeve of his Saturday evening shirt. His daughter's bare feet pad their way into Harry's kitchen - their kitchen, she's still adjusting to the thought that this might be her home now, and places an open palm on Arthur's shoulder.
"Alright, Dad?"
He smiles as he takes her in, wrinkles hugging the curves of his mouth. "All's well." Arthur caresses her cheek and lingers a moment near her jaw. "You've grown."
"I tried not to, I promise." Bad humour is her way of deflecting, it's always been.
"Your mother - we'd both like to know, are you living here now?" He doesn't look all too concerned and Ginny gives him a lot of credit for it, guessing how many times her parents turned the matter over before bringing up with her. She's thankful it's not Molly leading the conversation.
Ginny sighs, "I don't know?"
"But would you like to?"
The tightness in her chest is back. "I guess so," Ginny finally admits, feeling redness creep its way up her chest and to her cheeks. She's never been a fan of blushing, firmly believing it made her look like freshly picked tomato.
"As long as you're sure," her father gives her an encouraging smile and she leans into his side, head nestling on his shoulder, as she's done so many times in her childhood.
"I am."
"That's good. We only want you to be happy." Arthur's chin rests near her temple and her hands hug him long and tight.
"I am."
They sit in companionable silence until Snuffles' yelp sounds miserably from under the small table.
"Tummy ache." Ginny shrugs and crawls next to the dog to massage him out of his miserable state.
The oldest Weasley straightens up and claps his hard-worked palms to his knees. "Well you seem to know what you're doing."
"Oh yeah, happens more than not," she sighs from under the table.
Arthur chuckles, "I'll leave you to it, then." Booted feet pressing hard into the tiles on their way to the exit, he stops for a moment before letting himself out, "Come home more often, yeah? Your mother and I miss you."
Ginny blinks hard to stop herself from crying under a kitchen table, one big over-fed dog in her arms. It's never easy leaving your nest behind, she knows, but it it really supposed to be this hard?
"You're beautiful," Harry virtually fawns over a wet-haired Ginny as she giggles and towels her waist length mess of a hair dry.
She flashes him a toothy grin, "You're a cute little sop."
"I'm a sop with a cause."
"Oh yeah? What's your cause, then?"
"Making you happy." Harry smiles sheepishly and scratches at his ever growing beard as Ginny falls on her back on the other side of the screen, bathrobe slightly exposing creamy inches of skin, all sprinkled with freckles upon freckles. "You're the worst," she laughs, eyes closed and chest heaving in ill concealed delight, to which Harry responds with a ridiculous kissy face that only makes her laugh harder.
"Hey, Gin," he says when their laughter calm down.
"Mhm?" Her hands work three thick tresses of hair into a simple braid, her prefered means of allowing her hair to dry.
"Do you ever regret that night?"
"Do you?" She shoots back faster than he expects her to, almost making him jump of the wreck of a chair he's doomed to spend his free hours on.
Harry's face is sincere, his hands framing it before hiding amidst his wild black hair. "No."
"That's your answer." Ginny fixes him with her blazing look, the one that tells him of a girl so confident and untamed, the one that makes his blood freeze in his veins only to flow thrice as fast a second later. "Why?"
"You know how you dig ten hours straight and thoughts start buzzing around your head?"
"Sure," she snorts.
"Well it was around that time that I started thinking that maybe - maybe I rushed us into it?" Harry feels lucky that there are exactly 10,739 kilometers between them or else nothing could've saved him from Ginny's precise smack over the back of his head.
"Remind me, which of these were you rushing us, when I dragged you into the bedroom? When I took off your shirt that I was deliberately wearing? Or when I told you not to stop?" Her brown eyes were locked to his in a way that made him madly blush, for all his years.
"Heard you loud and clear."
Adjusting her posture so that she can comfortably place one wool-socked foot under her, Ginny lingers for a moment, eyes darting from his new scruffy, wild look to his fretting bruised hands. "So what's triggered you into this state, hmm?"
" 's nothing. I mean," Harry draws in a long suffering breath before confessing, "Ron's told me you've only gotten out of a relationship when we met and - yeah," he shily admits.
"Harry," Ginny's expression softens, "One, I told you to keep your hat on and because of the sexy song, but obviously the hot desert sun's doing things to your brain." Harry snorts, eyes twinkling in the semi-obscure light of his laptop screen. "Second, although my brother's big fat mouth wasn't lying, the fact that I broke up with someone has nothing to do with us."
"So it's you who broke up with him." Harry's face lights up if only a bit and she can't help but take pity on him and offer what he needs.
"His name is Dean and we met while playing football," Ginny starts, face propped up by her fist.
Harry involuntarily flexes his strained muscles. "I can play football."
"Is this the point?" One ginger eyebrow shoots up and Ginny continues, "Anyway, yes, we met during training. It was nice while it lasted, yet sometimes it felt like he didn't really trust that I could handle things on my own," she continues as her fingers play through her plaid.
"Sounds like he didn't know you all that well?" Harry suggests, privately wishing Dean good riddance.
"How well can you get to know someone in one year?" And he can't distinguish if she's being sarcastic or not, but before he can decide, Ginny extends an invitation to walk down a memory lane of his own, "How about you? Any stunningly beautiful girlfriends haunting your past?" Her smile is cheeky, but Harry notices it doesn't extend to her eyes.
"Haunting? No."
"But stunning and beautiful?"
"I don't know," Harry laughs. "I did date a girl named Cho in college."
She waits a moment before asking, "And? What happened?"
"She was jealous all the time. And had crappy friends." Harry leans on the back of his hard chair, palms supporting the back of his head.
"So what you're saying is, if I get all jealous and needy because beautiful tanned women are swooning over you behind my back in Chile, I should expect a break-up?" Her gaze is challenging, daring even, and he's enjoying every bit of it.
"Nah, you see the difference is I was never in love with Cho," his mouth speaks before he can close it.
A beat and it's Ginny who speaks.
"I've never been in love with anyone, either," she says, "Until I met you."
"Gin…" His fingers touch the image of her through the screen, desperate to feel any inch of her.
"Seven more weeks, yeah?"
He nods so hard his neck cracks.
"And then good luck keeping me away from you." Ginny's voice falters towards the end and Harry knows she's about to cry, but honestly so is he. "Unless you shave that damn sexy beard," she hurries to change the mood. It's all hard enough without them weeping everytime they Skype.
"You mean this beard?" Harry traces his fingers through it, wide smirk plastered to his face.
"What a little tease you are, Harry James."
Eyes flashing, Harry shoots back, "Says the woman who's been 'accidentally' letting her dressing gown gape open for the last hour."
Ginny glances down, thoughtful, but doesn't amend the problem. If anything about Ginny's glorious - ahem - body can be considered a problem.
They share a heated look and neither is really sure if they're going to go there or not. But one of Harry's research assistants makes the decision for them, bursting in and alerting Harry that dinner's almost over.
While Harry promises to make his way toward the makeshift cafeteria in the next few minutes, Ginny tucks herself back into her robe and memorizes Harry's face.
When he turns his attention back to her, she's smiling softly. "You know, we joke, but I really do - this isn't just some casual thing for me, yeah?"
"I don't think it's possible for me to be casual about you, Gin," Harry says warmly.
There's a pause, and Harry chuckles, "It's kinda shite to not be able to follow that up with - something."
"You will, we will," Ginny smiles, "Just on a bit of a delay."