A/N My only excuse is that it has been way too hot to write, which isn't much of an excuse, but you have a chapter now so, forgive me?
Thank you to my wonderful inspiring reviewers, UnderWorldQween, super16simone, OttoIsMyDog, SoccerReader, SSJJ92, JensonBensen, taliandtutu, Wondering Hail and TwistedImaginings, I cannot even begin to describe how much your comments mean to me.
Disclaimer: If I owned HP Fred would not be dead, got it? Good.
Birds of a Feather
Harry and Ginny sat on either side of the same couch, their backs to their respective arm rests, knees knocking, eyes locked. A heavy silence had settled over the room, and their penetrating gazes never wavered from each other's intense stare.
"This," Ginny said at last, "is ridiculous." Harry smirked at her,
"You're only saying that because you know you're going to lose," he said. Ginny narrowed her eyes slightly at him,
"I am not going to lose."
"Yes you are."
"No I'm not."
"Yes you are."
"I am so not having this conversation with you."
"So I win then."
"No you do not win the stupid argument, nor are you going to win this contest."
"I have to disagree with you there-" Ginny cut him off,
"You know what? I'm not having this argument either."
"Fine then." The silence entered once again, and then something entirely unimportant happened. The movement was miniscule, barely noticeable, and no matter how hard she tried, Ginny could not prevent it. She blinked.
"Ha!" Harry shouted, punching his fist in the air, before turning to look at Ginny, "So you'll stop bugging me about it then?"
"For a day."
"What?" He spluttered, staring at the red-headed girl across from him in disbelief.
"I said if you won I would stop bugging you about it, I never said for how long." Harry groaned at his short lived victory, before trying (once again) to get rid of the ridiculous notion that had caused their staring match to begin,
"I don't want a bloody owl!"
"Yes but you need one."
"I had an owl!"
"Yes Harry," she said gently, "but she died." Ginny was not being tactless, well actually she was, but she had tried tact for about a week, and the owl issue had remained unresolved, so she had deserted her attempt and gone with her usual way of arguing instead, that hadn't worked either.
She opened her mouth to continue, but Harry spoke first,
"I am not discussing this, I won, which means that you are violating the don't-bug-Harry-about-whether-or-not-he-needs-an-owl-(which he doesn't)-bet." Ginny grinned,
"I never said when either."
. . .
"Look," Ginny said a week later, "Why don't you just let me get you a bloody owl, there's no reason not to." Harry raised his head from his cereal, looking very much like he would enjoy not having this particular conversation (again). After staring at her in exasperation for several seconds he responded by saying,
"There are several actually." Ginny huffed before replying,
"Well what's one of them then?"
"Because I said so."
"That is not an answer."
"Why isn't it? It was a response to your question wasn't it?"
"Fine! What is a logical reason behind your aversion to getting an owl?"
"Logical? Since when are you Hermione?"
"Just answer the question!"
"Fine, it would be like losing, and I don't like losing."
"But what if it were like winning? Would you let me get you one then?
"How could losing possibly be like winning?"
"You would get a prize." Harry arched an eyebrow, his spoon halfway between his bowl and his mouth,
"Oh ya? And what would my prize be?" Ginny grinned at him,
"An owl."
. . .
They had been having their owl argument for about a month when Ginny finally convinced Harry to get one. It was late at night, and they had been sitting in the kitchen with mugs of hot chocolate when she began to speak.
"Please," she began desperately, "please let me get you an owl." Harry faltered slightly at the distressed tone of her voice, but then hardened his resolve and shook his head vehemently, opening his mouth he said,
"Can we not talk about this right-" Ginny cut him off however, and he was surprised to see unshed tears glistening in her eyes,
"No!" She said loudly, and then quieter, "hear me out Harry, please." Harry took in Ginny's frantic state before nodding reluctantly.
"I know you don't want an owl," she began, "but Harry, you need one, and I know you say you can always just borrow one, but Harry you can't." She was close to letting the tears fall at this point, but she pushed onward, "You're an auror Harry, and you go off, and you fight, and you almost die, and then you go off and you fight again, and every time I get a patronus, or a letter, or something saying you're in the hospital again, and I'm okay with that, because you're you, and that's what you do. "
"But what if," she continued, "one day you get hurt again, and you can't contact anyone, and so you die, all because you don't have a stupid bloody owl." Harry stared bemusedly at her, but he didn't laugh, nor did he point out that his owl was not likely to be with him while he was in combat, or even if he was he, in his fatally injured state, would not be feeling up to writing a letter, instead he stood and engulfed her in a hug, kissing the top of her head he whispered quietly,
"Okay Dear, I'll get an owl."
. . .
"So," Ginny said as she walked through the door three days later, "I know you don't want an owl (Harry decided not to point out that he had already agreed to get one), so I found you the perfect match." Harry raised a singled eyebrow in her direction, setting the coffee he had been drinking down on the table in front of him,
"Did you?"
"Yep," Ginny exclaimed happily, "I got you an owl that doesn't want an owner." She then continued to turn around and walk right back out the door. She returned seconds later with a large cage; unlatching it she released the bird,
"His name's Oscar," she said. Harry's first thought was that Oscar was one ugly bird, scarred and battle worn he was a sight to behold. Harry leaned back in his chair, lazily picking up his coffee again, and then promptly dropping it as the bird rushed at him.
Yelping, he grabbed his ear, where seconds before there had been a sharp stinging sensation, "It bit me," he cried, indignant. Ginny nodded brightly at him,
"He does that," she explained, Harry however wasn't listening, instead he was studying his new pet, where it's left eye should have been there was a mass of scar tissue, his beak was missing a chunk, and his right leg seemed stiff, and then a thought popped into Harry's head. It was absolutely preposterous, but, Harry reasoned, this was the Wizarding World, in which everything was ludicrous. So he warily shifted upright in his seat, altering his position so that his wand was easily available.
Oscar hooted approvingly, and the unexpectedly clacked its beak together, omitting a noise that sounded suspiciously like constant vigilance.
Harry groaned and slammed his head into the table, of course, of all the owls in the shop Ginny had to choose the reincarnation of Mad-Eye Moody.
Oscar bit him again.
A/N So there you go, if this offends your religion or something feel free to pretend Harry's bonkers (because he almost certainly is).
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