CHAPTER TWO
"Oh yeah?" Harry asked. "What are you gonna do about it?"
Ginny couldn't help glancing at his lips for a moment, and then up at his eyes. His eyes met hers, and for a small, fleeting moment, she was drawn in, until she heard Ron yelling at them.
Pulling away from Harry, she rolled off of him and onto the sand, basking in its warmth. She knew she'd be covered in it when she got up, but she didn't mind. She snuck a glance at him and found that Harry was still looking at her.
She ignored the heated feeling within her and maneuvered herself up.
"You cheated!" Ron accused them.
"No, we won, fair and square," Ginny argued with her brother. "Ask Bill!" She pointed a finger at their eldest brother, who had just popped open a bottle of Muggle beer.
"There were no rules about timeouts," Bill told Ron. "I hold that Ginny played fair—at least this time."
"How about we play again? Double or nothing?"
"No, Ron. No take-backsies!"
Ron cursed at her and Ginny just smiled sweetly. "Have any more of that beer, Bill?" Ron asked, finally.
Bill gestured towards a large cooler. Fishing through it, Ron grabbed one for himself and then a second one, which he tossed to Harry.
"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Hermione asked.
"Why not?" Ron asked. "There's no evil Dark Lord—or snatchers—after us."
"There're still Death Eaters who haven't been caught," Hermione reasoned. "I think we should just be careful.
"We'll be alright, Hermione," Harry told her. "It's not like we're getting drunk."
Hermione finally nodded, effectively ending the argument. Ginny looked over at George, who had remained mostly silent.
George had a beer of his own and was sitting on a beach chair off to the side, fiddling with some sort of contraption.
Hermione looked worried still, and Ginny wondered if she was picturing some drinking-related calamity befalling them.
"Can I have a beer?" She asked Bill.
"Well, I don't know, Firefly," Bill said, frowning. "You are an awful lot younger than these hooligans."
Ginny gaped until Bill broke into a grin. "Just kidding. You turn seventeen in three days—I can't keep you from magic and beer. What kind of vacation would this be?"
Bill handed her one as she walked over, and she opened it, taking a sip. "Ick," she said, unable to stomach it. "I think I'd prefer anything over this shite."
"Hey, get it right, Ginny. It's not shite—it's piss," George told her, finally looking up from his project.
"Well, if you like it, you can have the rest of my piss" Ginny told him.
"I 'ave something you might like, Ginny," Fleur told her. She held up a bottle with some sort of purple-y juice in it.
"What's that?"
"Eet's a fruit cocktail,"answered Fleur. "Eet 'as vodka, fruit juice, and something else to make eet taste good."
"Get outta here with that girly shite," Ron told them.
"Don't be such a wanker," Ginny told her brother. "Do you have enough for me and Hermione?" She asked Fleur.
"Oui," Fleur smiled at her. Ginny wished she hadn't underestimated her sister-in-law's love for Bill when they had first met, but Ginny was glad that she had taken the time (eventually) to get to know Fleur.
Fleur held out the bottle to her, and as Ginny took it, she thanked her sister-in-law.
"'Ermione?" Fleur offered.
Hermione looked hesitant, but finally caved and took it from Fleur like she'd break it—or maybe like it would break her.
"You don't have to if you don't want to, Hermione," Ginny said, hoping she didn't feel pressured.
Hermione's dark brown eyes peered into Ginny's amber ones, like she was trying to communicate with the younger witch without using any words. Finally, she said, "It's just that I've never drank in public before… and I'd hate to be caught off-guard."
Ginny nodded in understanding. "We're safe, now," she assured Hermione.
Hermione bit her lip, teasing it slightly before letting go of it and opening her drink determinedly.
"That's my girl," Ron congratulated his girlfriend.
Ginny took a gulp of her own drink, thinking of Hermione's fears. She understood them completely—it felt like they were still waiting for the other shoe to drop. She was trying to re-train herself to exist normally, too.
She took a seat on her towel, trying to ignore Harry's presence next to her. She watched as Hermione pulled out a book and began to read. Ron, Bill, and Harry were discussing Quidditch—normally she would be all over that conversation—and Fleur was lying on her chair, sunning herself. Ginny watched George, who was still fiddling with that contraption.
"What's that you've got, George?"
George looked up at her for a moment, hands still fidgeting with it. "It's a prototype of a puzzle Fred and I've been working on for the shop. I can't get it to work, though, since…" he grunted.
"What's it do?" Ginny asked.
"It's a configuration of sorts… you unlock the puzzle and then inside is a pranking object that you don't get to pick."
"That sounds… interesting."
"Problem is—we had a fail safe way for it to open, but it's not working."
Ginny watched as he threw it across the beach and into the water. "What are you doing?"
"There's no point!" George shouted. She had never seen him have such a fit since they'd been small, and it worried her more than his quiet had.
"It's alright," Ginny tried to placate him, placing her hand on his shoulder.
"It's not alright. Nothing is alright," George insisted. "Nothing has been right since Fred's been gone." He buried his head in his hands.
She looked away and found everyone staring at them, none of them saying a word. None of the looks were pitying—just a deep sadness that Ginny suspected would never mend.
She took her older brother into her arms and hugged him. She felt him shake for a moment before he stilled and pulled away, wiping at his eyes. "Sorry," George apologized.
"Nothing to be sorry about mate," Bill said, walking over and patting him on the back. "Why don't we go back and try to figure out what's up with the puzzle?"
"I'm not going to ruin the beach day," George said.
"We'll have more beach days. We live right next to the water."
Finally, George nodded and the two climbed the slope back to Shell Cottage. Ginny got up from George's chair and submerged herself in the seawater, enjoying the chill of the Atlantic Ocean and the way the salt smelled all around her.
Diving beneath the surface, she held her breath and stayed for a moment where she could see nothing but the blue all around her and seaweed floating by. Something touched her ankle and she shot upwards, hair flat and auburn against her head as she peered around, finding Harry behind her, grinning.
"You berk," she laughed.
Harry was laughing, too, and Ginny placed a hand against his chest as she waded in the water, pushing him away. "That's for scaring me!"
"So that's what I've got to do to get you to touch me," Harry said.
Ginny flushed, which she hadn't thought possible in the chill of the ocean.
He was looking at her from underneath his eyelashes, and Merlin, she wanted to bring her lips to his, again, like she'd done so long ago…
His fingers wound themselves in a strand of her hair, tugging it gently.
"We should stop," Ginny said after a moment.
"Why?"
She sucked in a breath, feeling like a magnet being drawn towards him. "Well, er..."
"Yes?" His eyes were intense, and so green against the sea as a backdrop.
Ginny did something very childish then—she jumped and dunked Harry beneath the water, and held him there for a moment before making her escape.
Later that night, after supper, Ginny did not visit the beach for the first evening since arriving at Shell Cottage. Instead, she sat on the sofa by the fire, reading a book Hermione had lent her.
It was some Muggle romance that she was guiltily enjoying—the main character had been kidnapped by a dastardly, yet charming and fit, pirate and was being forced into captivity at sea.
"Is that any good?" A voice asked from behind her. Ginny nearly jumped but kept her composure.
"I like it so far," she told Harry. "Though, I think the heroine is suffering from Stockholm Syndrome."
He chuckled. "One of those, eh?"
"Yeah. But it keeps me coming back for more, somehow."
He nodded as he took a seat next to her on the sofa, leg almost but not quite touching hers. There was some sort of current between their legs and Ginny wanted so badly to touch her leg against his.
"What brings you down here?" She finally made herself ask him.
"Oh, I couldn't sleep. And Ron was talking in his sleep."
"Anything I can use against him?"
"Plenty," Harry grinned mischievously. "But as his best mate, I can't tell you."
"You ruin all my fun." She readjusted her position and leaned back against the arm of the sofa, throwing her legs onto Harry's lap.
"Somehow, I don't believe that."
She gave him an innocent expression. "Now, I don't believe that at all," he told her. "That was far too innocent to be real."
"How do you think I got by being the only girl? I couldn't always beat the boys in rough-housing, though I have proven quite a few times that I'm a fantastic wrestler."
Harry chuckled. "I suppose you had to get by on cunning sometimes. It's a wonder you weren't in Slytherin."
"I could have been," she revealed. "But I wanted so badly to play Quidditch for Gryffindor."
"You picked your house based on Quidditch?" He asked incredulously.
"Does that surprise you?"
He appeared to think about it. "No, actually, not at all."
She settled her legs further into his lap, and as she picked her book back up, Ginny felt him begin to rub her feet. She couldn't help herself—she moaned.
Harry glanced at her but continued his work. She let another moan out, and finally said, "Do you have to sound so, erm, erotic?"
"I can't help it," defended Ginny. "That just feels so good." It was doing strange things to other parts of her body, too, but she ignored that with all her might.
"I think I'd better try to sleep, after all," Harry said, getting up and placing her legs gently back on the sofa.
Ginny worried that she'd pushed things too far. "Night, Harry."
"Night, Gin."
She watched him walk away back up the wooden staircase, trying not to stare too much at his bum. She thought about all the times she had watched Harry Potter walk away from her, heart sinking in a way that made Ginny feel ashamed.
She tried to concentrate back on her pirate romance, but only could think of that sinking feeling within her. Things had been so good between them, and she had gone and made it all awkward. Bloody hell.
Finally, Ginny gave up on the sexy and irresistible Captain Jack and the witty and beguiling Violette. She followed Harry's suit and went upstairs to her room, sitting there listlessly before she decided that she would take a shower.
Under the spray of the hot water, Ginny remembered the way Harry's touch earlier had heated her. Her belly tightened as her hands made their way south, first just lightly teasing herself. Her breath caught in her chest as she trailed her fingers through her slit, gathering the slick moisture. She remembered the way Harry's head had felt between her thighs when she'd been on his shoulders and imagined what it would have been like if he had been facing her.
She moaned, lost in the fantasy of Harry's tongue inside her. Ginny slipped a finger into her opening, slowly building more speed as she imagined the way Harry might lap her up, and then rub against her, hard and passionate. She nearly cried out as she came, only just managing to hold back as she pulled her fingers out of her pulsing core.
When she came back to earth, Ginny quickly washed and rinsed, running a brush through her coppery locks. Her cheeks were still a little flushed, she observed, as she plaited her wet hair. She'd blame it on the hot shower, she decided, if anyone asked. Not that they would.
Hermione was already asleep, breathing deeply in her twin camp bed when Ginny returned to their room.
Ginny undressed in the dark, throwing her clothes in a pile on the floor and burrowing herself under her quilt. She lay in bed for a long time, listening to the rain hit the window until she fell asleep from sheer exhaustion.
Ginny awoke the next morning determined not to allow things to be awkward between her and Harry this morning. It was a good thing, too, as Harry was acting as if nothing strange had happened the night before.
Breakfast this morning was just toast and cereal, which suited Ginny just fine.
"What's the plan for today?" Ron asked.
"Mostly relaxation, as Fleur and I will have a lot to do tomorrow for Ginny's birthday. I think we'll go into town today if you lot want to come along."
"Hell yes," Ginny said. "It's been so long since I've been out and about."
Ron and Hermione nodded along.
"Is there a bookshop in Tinworth?" Hermione asked eagerly. "I'd like to get a new mystery or two."
"I'll go with you if there is one," Ginny told her. "I want to catch up on my Muggle romance addiction."
"Not more pirate love?" Harry joked with her.
Ginny fought the urge to blush in embarrassment, electing to give him a two-finger salute instead. He grinned at her, and she grinned back, heart and body both reacting to the way he smiled. Yesterday had not been good for her self-restraint, she thought.
"Well, let's head out soon and we can make a day of it," Bill decided. "We'll all split up, then meet for lunch and do some more shopping after."
Ginny finished her tea and cheese on toast and went upstairs, eager to get ready for the day.
She threw on a pair of denim shorts and a pale purple vest top as Hermione sat on her own twin bed, already dressed, and reading. "You got ready quickly," Ginny commented.
Hermione murmured in agreement as she continued to read. Ginny chuckled and said, "Come on. I bet everyone else is already ready to go."
Hermione only just managed to tear herself away from her book and mark her place as Ginny walked out their bedroom door and down the stairs into the kitchen, where everyone was indeed waiting. Ron immediately went to stand next to Hermione, grabbing her hand in his.
"Aww, did you miss your girlfriend in the ten minutes she was gone?"
"Ginny, what's gotten into you?" Hermione asked.
"Well, absolutely nothing has," Ginny replied. "Gotten into me, that is."
Hermione shot her an arch look but didn't reply verbally.
Everyone ignored their exchange as they grabbed their bags or wallets and began to walk out the front door towards the car. Of course, it had to be magically expanded to fit all seven of them. Hermione began to tell them the virtues of a multi-purpose vehicle, something she said all Weasleys should invest in.
Ginny shook her head, smiling, knowing that none of them would ever have the need as long as they had magic to expand the insides of a car. Ginny didn't think she would ever get a car, either, as she would soon be able to apparate or floo anywhere she needed to go.
They arrived in Tinworth, Ginny, Ron, Hermione, and Harry heading to the nearest bookstore first. Hermione was even harder to reign in than Ginny had expected her to be. As she stopped to ask Harry if their friend was okay, he explained that it was the first bookstore she'd been in since the summer before their sixth year.
"It's like watching someone who's been jonesing," Ginny commented.
He nodded. "Yeah. Ron had better hide her wallet."
"We should let her buy as many as she wants. You know she'll never regret it."
"You're right," he conceded, watching as Hermione took a seat on the floor and began reading. "Is that too much?" he asked, gesturing.
Ginny shrugged. "Would Ron not do the same thing in a Quidditch store?"
Harry shrugged. "Probably, if Quidditch supplies were the same price as books. Find anything you like yet?"
"Not really. I was hoping something would catch my fancy, but nothing has."
Harry grabbed a book at random off the shelf next to them. "What about this? It's about, er…" His eyes widened as he read the back of the book, "Well, never mind," he said, attempting to put it back.
Ginny snatched it from Harry's hands as he fumbled with it and read the description. Her cheeks warmed. "Oh my," she agreed. "Definitely not."
She put it back and he grabbed another. "There's always this one about… werewolves?"
"Muggles seem to like the idea of wolf mates," Ginny explained, having read one or two. "They can be interesting, but they're not my favourite."
"What are your favourites, then?" he asked.
Ginny bit her lip, thinking. "I like the normal ones, with cute romantic plots. Or the ones with bad boys who get redeemed through the power of love."
"Not the bad boys," Harry groaned. "Why do girls like bad boys?"
"Nice guys tend to know they're nice, and think they deserve exactly what they want because of it," she told him.
"I don't—"
"Well, you're not a nice guy, Harry. You're a good guy, and a brave man. There's a difference, I promise you."
He looked confused but nodded anyway.
"And," Ginny continued. "You'd think I'd have gotten enough danger in my own life, but I do like books with a hint of danger and trouble, as well. A good plot is key."
"Like pirates raiding the high seas?" he asked.
"Oh shut it, you," Ginny laughed, pushing his shoulder lightly. "But, yes, like that."
He grinned cheekily at her. "Oh, looks like Ron has had enough and is dragging Hermione out."
Hermione looked a little distraught as Ron pulled her by the hand, a bag filled with books in Hermione's other hand.
Harry and Ginny grinned at each other and followed them out of the shop.
Ginny glanced at Harry, who was looking around the street, face serious and alert. She wanted to tell him that he didn't have to be so tense, that everything was safe now, but Ginny knew that there was no use. Nothing stopped the fear, even now that Tom was gone. It was like an old instinct; it was one they hadn't quite learned how to bury yet.
So, Ginny let Harry do what he needed to do to feel safe, as he let her when he sat with her in the evenings at the beach. She bumped her hand against his briefly, thrilling in the touch and also just wanting to lend some comfort to him. He looked at her, face softening momentarily before his mask was back up.
"Oh, look, Harry!" She said excitedly, pointing. "A Muggle coffee shop! I've always wanted to try one out!"
"Me too," Harry told her. "Want to go in?"
She nodded eagerly, face lit up in a wide smile. She grabbed his hand and pulled him excitedly in its direction. She opened the door and they were immediately greeted by the strong, pleasant scent of sweet coffee, and the sound of a grinding.
"What's that sound?" She asked, trying not to cover her ears.
"I'm not sure," Harry replied, nearly shouting to be heard. "Shall we go look at the menu?"
She shook her head affirmatively, not feeling like yelling. They stared at the menu, absolutely confused as to what was what.
Finally, the grinding sound stopped and the Muggle woman behind the counter called out someone's order, leaving the coffee at the pick-up window.
"Welcome in," she greeted as she came over to help them. "What can I get started for you?"
Ginny thought she detected a soft Irish accent, as if the woman had begun to lose it after relocating. "Erm, we've never had this type of coffee before," Ginny finally admitted to the woman. "What would you recommend?"
They both took her recommendations based off their favourite flavours, Ginny ending up with someone called a mocha and Harry with a caramel macchiato.
They sat at a small table in the corner of the room, Harry taking the seat that would allow him to see everyone in the shop and what they were doing, and Ginny sitting in the seat facing the window.
She watched Harry take a sip of his drink, and asked, "What do you think?"
He licked his lips, a bit of whipped cream stuck in the left corner of his mouth.
"It's good," he decided. "It's not like tea."
Ginny tried her own, nearly burning her tongue. Something in her brain lit up, similarly to when she had a bite of fudge or treacle tart. "This is good," she said. "It's definitely not like tea."
She couldn't stop staring at the whipped cream, still on the corner of his lip. She wanted to kiss it off him, imagined the way the coffee would taste on his lips and tongue.
"What?" Harry asked. "Why are you staring at me?"
She let out a nervous giggle, which annoyed her more than anything else, before she told him, "You have some cream on your mouth," and pointed at the corner of her own lip.
He felt for it on his lip, pink tongue darting out and licking its way along. Somehow, Harry still missed it. "Here," Ginny offered. "Let me help you."
She reached across the table toward his face carefully, trying to keep her hand from shaking. She wiped it from the corner of his lip, finger brushing lightly along his bottom one on the way there, before she brought her fingers back to her mouth and licked the whipped cream off it.
Harry was staring at her now, gaping, cheeks reddening slightly. "That's better," Ginny smiled.
He let out a ragged breath.
"Something wrong?" Ginny asked, not daring to imagine that she had affected him the same way he had been affecting her in the last week.
"No, not at all," Harry said, cheeks still red.
She shrugged and took another sip of her mocha, beginning a conversation about the Harpies.
Hours later, they all piled back into the magically-enhanced car and Fleur drove them back to Shell Cottage. Ginny felt rather tired and was fighting sleep on the ride back to the cottage. Her eyes closed against her will and she felt the relief of rest as her head fell against someone's warm shoulder.
Soon she was being woken up, but she could barely open her eyes. "Come on, Gin," a familiar voice coaxed. "I'll help you to bed, but I can't carry you."
She finally nodded sleepily, opening her eyes the smallest amount possible. "Harry?"
"Yeah, it's me. Everyone else is getting supper ready, but I'll get you to bed if you want to sleep."
Ginny tried to push the sleepiness away and did begin to feel more awake as she stretched her arms high above her head, shirt rising just a bit past her belly button. Harry let out a strange sound, but she paid him no mind as unbuckled and climbed out, yawning.
"Thanks, Harry," she finally said, feeling more awake. "What's everyone doing for supper?"
"Ron and Hermione are preparing spag bol, and Fleur is tossing some sort of fancy salad. No one wanted George touching the food, so he and Bill are fiddling with the wireless, I think."
"Hermione and Ron can cook?" Ginny asked.
"Ron's actually better at it than Hermione," Harry explained. "I think it's his passion for food."
"He always loved to help Mum in the kitchen," Ginny admitted. "I hope he's nearly as good as her."
"It's hard to rival Molly Weasley's cooking," Harry told her seriously.
She chuckled. "Yes, feeding a small army for thirty years of your life would improve your cooking skills, I imagine."
They were standing next to each other near the front door, facing each other. Ginny heard the nearby sea, waves breaking against the shore. Her heart skipped a beat as they stood there, looking at each other.
Ginny fought the urge to fidget with her vest top, finally deciding that she would just open the door and walk into the cottage.
Harry followed her, and as she led them away from their almost-moment, she wondered why she kept pulling away from him. What was she afraid of?
She made her way to the kitchen and tried to be of use to someone, jumping into any tasks that they needed help with, trying not to think too hard of the feelings of confusion and desire that Harry had warring within her. Did he feel the same way? she wondered before chastising herself and focusing on helping with browning the meat for the spag bol.
"You look like you are concentrating extremely hard, Firefly," Bill told her.
She looked up from the almost-brown meat at her eldest brother, startled out of her riotous thoughts. "Oh, nah. Just making sure not to poison us all," she told him.
He gave her a look like he knew that she was lying but wasn't going to call her out on it this time. She counted her blessings as she began to drain the grease.
Dinner seemed like it was prepared in no time with everyone's help, and soon they were sitting silently at the table, shoveling pasta into their mouths.
"So, Ginny, is there anything you want for your birthday?" Bill asked midway through the meal, breaking the silence.
He took a sip of his red wine and Ginny thought about it. She truly couldn't think of a thing that she wanted—everything she would have wanted the year before seemed silly. "Maybe some school supplies," she finally said.
"School supplies?" George piped up. "Who are you and what have you done with Ginevra Weasley?"
Ginny shrugged, swallowing her bite of pasta. She wiped her mouth and said, "There's nothing else I can think of. Anything that's not useful seems a little frivolous."
"You sound like Mum," Ron complained. "It's not frivolous if it makes you happy."
Ginny shrugged again; mouth full of spag bol. Ron tutted in disappointment, and Harry told her quietly from beside her, "Too bad I already got you your gift—it's not a textbook or quill, either."
She turned to look at him, swallowing her bite so quickly it hurt. Her cheeks burned and curiosity raged within her. What had Harry gotten her? He'd never gotten her a gift before.
She barely kept herself from asking him and she saw the mirth in his eyes as he watched her fight with herself about it. "You'll have to wait 'til tomorrow to open it," Harry teased.
"Oh, you killjoy."
He laughed and just like that, conversation reignited around the table.
After supper was cleaned up, Ginny found herself on the couch in front of the fire, once again. She wasn't reading this time, as she couldn't seem to quiet her thoughts long enough to read one sentence.
The subject of her thoughts entered the living room and sat down on the sofa next to her. "You seem to be a creature of habit," Harry commented.
Ginny's legs were curled up beneath her and she had to readjust her position to be able to look at him fully. "Oh, am I?" she asked blithely.
He smiled crookedly and her heart did a strange little flip-flop, reminding her that that exact smile was part of the reason she had so easily fallen for him again in her fifth year. She could almost remember the moment she'd realized that she was totally and completely bewitched. It had hit her like the Hogwarts Express, as he had been smiling at her just like that at Quidditch practice one day. She had to admit, the realization had not done her relationship with Dean Thomas any favours.
"Yes, definitely," Harry answered. "You get into routines."
"You've been watching me, have you, Potter?" She grinned at him flirtatiously.
"Actually, I have been. I can't seem to help it, you see."
She raised an eyebrow at him, wondering what was emboldening him so.
Just then, Ron and Hermione entered the living room as well. She wanted to bat-bogey her brother as he continued loudly with Hermione about whatever he'd been blathering on about.
"Don't you ever shut up?" she asked Ron.
"Merlin, Ginny. Did you need someone to pull your broom out for you?"
She rolled her eyes, trying to push her annoyance with her brother back. She loved him, she told herself. She really did. He just had the worst timing in the world.
"I like it right where it's at, thanks, dear brother."
Harry made a choking sound, and she patted him on the back as she uncurled her legs from under her and stood up, stretching. For the second time that evening, her vest top rode up past her belly button, and Harry made yet another strange sound that she ignored. "I think I'll go to bed."
As she walked up the stairs, she heard Hermione berating Ron and she only felt mildly guilty that she had seemingly gotten him in trouble again. Oh well, she knew that the two would make up in an explosive (and completely disgusting) way.
She lay in bed for a long while, listening to the murmur of Ron, Hermione, and Harry's voices downstairs. She finally drifted off as she wondered what Harry had been about to say.