A/N: this is for fightfortherightsofhouseelves hehe. one more part after this I think...planning for a lil sultry fluff

"Well this went so well last time, I'm not surprised you asked me again," Harry drawls, taking another sip of his 'thank you for helping your desperate mate' smoothie. It's a bit too heavy on the citrus but it's free and fruit is fruit.

"Actually, my professor said I was 'insightful' and 'possessed a shocking level of medical knowledge for a classics student.'"

Harry huffs and takes a pointed sip, letting Neville stew in his ill-gotten compliments. Whatever punishment he receives from the slightly weak glare can't be as painful as Harry's resulting brain freeze. That'll teach him to try to mimic the infamous Lily Evans-Potter deadpan glare.

"Not like you have anything better to do."

"Definitely not in med school," Harry drawls.

"Ok. You're so super busy?"

"I spent the entire weekend doing clinical shifts, so yeah."

Neville blinks, waiving a biscotti to prompt Harry on, "And then you…"

"Then I spent the remainder of my time taking care of my fake farm."

"There it is." Neville says, triumphant as he taps Harry's knuckles with the half eaten cookie. He takes another bite, crumbs falling across the back of Harry's hand.

Harry shakes the sugary bits to the table top and flips another page, roughly enough that he nearly tears the corner off.

"Oi! Watch - "

This time, Harry's pointed glare is slightly more successful - Neville doesn't outright laugh at him. Sadly, Harry's mood has dipped decidedly since the harsh, albeit accurate, reminder that he spends his weekends wooing little animated characters and buying tiny cartoon horses.

"Do you ever," Harry takes a long breath, "I feel like everyone is crunching granola and energized by the universe while I'm - passed out in a chair with a pack of milk duds on my chest."

"Last time I found you asleep it was apple slices. That's a step up, right?" Neville says, dunking his biscotti into his coffee, "Back to work, no time for angst."

"So selfish."

"I'm helping you keep your artistic side while also honing your skills as a wingman - now critique."

Harry snorts and sips at his smoothie, wincing as the chill freezes up the back of his throat. "All that honing and criticism is what got me in trouble last time."

"You liked it just fine."

A few patrons jostle past and Harry scoots forward, flipping another page. "Load of good it did."

"One crisis at a time - I need four pages of analysis by Wednesday."

"Today's the last day you can demand my time for a bit - I'm Tonks' plus one for Teddy's friend's birthday."

"How complicated."

Harry grabs another sticky note and marks a men's fitness ad. "She says she gets lonely if Remus isn't there."

"Sounds like a fix up."

Sucking in a breath, Harry winces, "I know."

"Thanks for humoring me Harry," Tonks says, bouncing at Harry's side, not unlike her 5 year old, currently holding Harry's hand.

Tonks grips his arm a little tighter and Harry grunts. "I can't help but think I've been duped."

Teddy does some sort of jumping pirouette while keeping his grip on Harry's index finger - and nearly dislocating Harry's arm in the process - and Tonks trips over nothing. Which could be an indication that Harry's right about the duping. Though admittedly it is odder if Tonks doesn't trip, stumble, knock over, etc.

"I can enjoy a party and hate going without backup."

"Right."

"And Remus has that departmental bonding weekend - "

"That sounds terrifying."

As they crest the hill they've been working their way up since parking Harry's compact alongside the rest of the partygoers' vehicles, Teddy gets a dangerous look in his eye. Before Harry or Tonks can even consider what's about to happen, Teddy's log rolling down the grassy incline and giggling like a little hoodlum.

They pick up the pace to meet Teddy at the bottom, hopefully all in one piece, and Harry barely manages to take in the towering cottage waiting for them. Once Teddy's had a stern lecture from Tonks and a crooked brow from Harry, he does look a bit chastened. But any glumness vanishes when a high pitched little voice with a tinge of an accent shouts, "Teddy!"

Harry and Tonks turn almost in unison as Teddy shoots off for the front door of the home, finally getting to examine the odd structure. It's got the appearance that every few years another section was just stacked on top, a bit haphazardly but not without love. Delicate flowers crawl up the sides - real and hand painted, whitewashed shutters hug each dark grey windowpane, and in deference to today's festivities, a rainbow of pennants hang from the eaves.

While Teddy and his friend - presumably the birthday girl Victoire - circle aimlessly in some sort of ring around the rosy mimic, Tonks pulls Harry closer to the house. "I did have an ulterior motive."

"Shocking."

Teddy's in grabbing distance and makes good use of it, hand tugging at Harry's sleeve and introducing him into the dizzy circuits wearing a pattern in the soft grass. Victoire and Teddy's nonsense song almost drown out Tonks' voice as she whisper-shouts and gestures toward the front of the house, "Harry - meet ulterior motive."

His eyeline immediately follows and finds a woman warming the half open doorway. "Sweater Pants?"

Her eyes find his almost at the same time and she barks out a laugh, "Breathable Knickers Boy?"

Tonks looks between them, "You know each other."

"Not - we - "

Whatever fumbling response Harry might've managed ends when Teddy's ankle locks around his and the next handful of moments are spent twisting his body into whatever shape it takes not to crush his godson and godson's best mate. And hopefully avoid starting his Foundation Programme with a broken limb.

Both children are already giggling so Tonks takes on the cursory review for any unnoticed bumps, cuts, or bruises, while Sweater Pants offers Harry a hand.

"Are you stalking me?"

"Is it stalking if I have an invitation?"

"Are you five?"

"Did you know plus ones at children's parties are a thing now?"

"Tonks is such a meddler," Sweater Pants says with a wry grin as Harry dusts his bum off. Hopefully he's not completely covered in grass and other nature mess. Though it would be on brand for his interactions with Sweater Pants.

She picks a few twigs from his jumper and tosses them aside, brow furrowed. "So is that what you have been calling me in your head? Sweater Pants?"

"I - " Harry can't manage a response, not when her fingers have now touched his chest and maybe lingered just a bit too long.

"Because I think of you as Dr. Fit Trainwreck. Filled in the doctor bit from context clues."

"I - almost a doctor."

She snorts. "Ok then - I model."

"Yeah - oh you're taking the mick."

"Thank you Captain Obvious, though the whole 'model' as a verb thing does ruin my joke a bit."

"Dr. Obvious."

Model Sweater Pants holds up one finger, "Ah - it's Almost Dr. Obvious."

"I guess I'm a doctor - still feels odd? I start my foundation programme at the end of the month."

"Fancy," she answers, only pausing to send a cheerful wave as Teddy and Victoire disappear inside. And then once they do, to flick off Tonks, who accepts the greeting with a wink. "So names? Or am I only allowed to call you Doctor?"

Her voice pitches lower and it's not really a thing for Harry, being called Doctor - which is good for so many reasons - but this woman calling him Doctor and looking at him with those warm brown eyes. He's halfway gone and barely chokes out, "Harry."

She hums. "Very nice. I'm Ginny. So you can stop calling me Sweaty Bum or whatever you said earlier."

"Sweater Pants, just Sweater Pants."

Ginny winks and rests her hand on the brass handle, door already cracked open. "Not as bad as it could've been. Ta."

Once Harry's inside, he's sucked into the tornado that is a children's birthday party. Happy screams, shushing parents, echoes of begging for cake now, and the veritable minefield of tiny fingers and toes just waiting to be squashed under his boots. Boots that suddenly feel very large.

He can't quite tell who the hostess is and Tonks is a virtual ghost, flitting between conversations and avoiding Harry quite unlike someone who couldn't bear attending alone and ending up a sad wallflower.

An amused voice jars him from his thoughts. "Contemplating throwing the 'do no harm' vow out the window?"

"Just for the afternoon," Harry mutters back, though a grin does tickle his lips at the sound of Ginny's voice. He turns to face her fully, "She thinks I'm completely inept socially."

"She has some faith if she left you unattended."

"It's not like I don't have friends!"

"Of course," Ginny agrees, "Mum pulls this with me all the time."

"Don't start me on parents - though my dad is the invasive one."

Ginny chuckles. "I like that. Invasive."

Harry does his best to ignore the way his chest warms at her laughter. She thinks he is funny. The effort is helped along somewhat by the stampede of three of the tiny party attendees chasing each other with noisemakers. After nearly being knocked on his face, Harry finds his efforts in staying upright have been aided by Ginny's firm grasp on his elbow.

"Alright?"

"I - uh. Yes."

He ruffles his hair and swears at the genetic curse that makes resisting the impulse next to impossible.

Ginny grins at him. "In the mood for some sneaking around?"

Unbidden, Harry's brows rise, drawing a blush from Ginny, though she doesn't falter. "I know where the 'ugly' fairy cakes are."

"I did forget to eat lunch."

She nods and Harry follows her out of the room, studiously avoiding Tonks' gaze, though he can feel it burning his shoulders as he goes. The smugness is practically tangible. Shockingly, the slight prickle at Harry's pride fades in comparison to his growing infatuation. Mostly.

Basically every flat surface in the kitchen is covered with celebratory foods - tiny sandwiches (with varying cheeses, meats, and veg), biscuits, fairy cakes, pastry of sweet and savory variety, lemonade - and yet the chaos seems organized in some unknown way. It's well beyond Harry's comprehension, particularly when Ginny is gesturing toward him with a crooked finger and a dangerous grin.

It's not quite clear whether she's trying to be tempting, but Harry's rapidly discovering that regardless of intent his brain is going to be at least 30% occupied thinking about the subtle nuances of Ginny's smile any time she's around.

"These came out crooked and Mum and Fleur agreed - perhaps for the first time in history - that they just would not do. No matter how much I told them layering enough frosting and sprinkles on top would do the trick."

Harry accepts the proffered fairy cake and picks a star-shaped sprinkle off the top. "I see you demonstrated your point?"

"I can't bear seeing a delicious bake go to waste," Ginny sighs, nearly moaning honestly, already on her second bite. "Looks don't matter when wonderful things are happening to your tongue."

Said tongue darts out to catch a stray sprinkle and if her smile takes up 30% of his brain power, that little move was at least 60%. Honestly, it's starting to feel like a miracle that Harry's remaining upright at this point. Ginny produces a couple of juice boxes from somewhere and offers one to Harry.

She's apparently been chatting away while he stared like an idiot and he was fairly certain he'd kept up somewhat - Ginny stops mid sentence and wiggles the juice box at him. "Harry."

He grimaces around the last bite of his fairy cake and accepts the drink. "Yes?"

"When are you going to ask me out?"

Unfortunately, it's one of life's truths that what is impeccable timing for one person can be the exact opposite for another. And even more unfortunately, this moment is one such a time for Harry and Ginny. And most unfortunately, Harry is the 'exact opposite' half of the equation when Ginny's pointed question coincides exactly with Harry's placement of the tiny straw in his juice and subsequent abrupt squeezing of the box.

As Ginny is helping him dry off, dabbing his face through her tears of laughter, Harry can't help but giggle himself. "Probably - I was probably going to ask when I was sure you'd say yes."

Ginny tsks. "You can never be sure."

Harry removes his glasses and begins swiping at them with the small section on the left side of his shirt that managed to remain unscathed. "Ok maybe I was waiting to see if you asked me - definitely seem like the type to be cool with that."

She pauses her swiping and sets the towel on the counter, then faces him, hands on hips. "And are you the type that's cool with me doing that?" Ginny quirks a brow and continues, "I'm not worried about offending because if you're not then."

"I can 'eff off'?"

He earns a snort and can't help but feel a bit puffed up at the reward. Eventually, Ginny adds, "More like I just want to see if this is going to go anywhere. And if I should tell you to eff off."

There's a sudden influx of shorter than countertop height partygoers in the kitchen, all making a beeline for the back door, shepherded by Tonks and a few unfamiliar adults. Someone's shouting about a piñata and Harry only pauses a minute before turning his attention back to Ginny. "I don't mind being wined, dined, and wooed if that's what you mean."

Ginny's brows flick up, challenging. "Well let's see if I want to do that, yeah?" She rinses her hands at the sink and waits for Harry to do the same while she works the backdoor open, excited candy-related shouts already spilling into the kitchen.

The yard is a hive of activity, as is to be expected, but they're still on the outskirts of it all when Harry answers, "Oh, like a test?"

"Ew! No tests. It's a birthday party."

If Harry hadn't guessed who the conversation interloper was, the small but effective force of a tiny being slamming against his side clears it up. "Hey Ted."

Teddy's companion - birthday girl Victoire - shakes her head and grins at Teddy, "No it's like a friendship test."

After taking this information in, Teddy nods thoughtfully and asks, "Like when I asked you if you liked dinosaurs? And you said you wanted to be a pterodactyl when you grew up?"

Victoire nods. "And then we were best mates."

Teddy grins and lets out what Harry knows by now is his version of a raptor's rallying cry, which is immediately followed by the two young party goers running off into the fray of friends and classmates clamoring around the next party activity set up. Something involving pennants, dowels, crepe paper and glue sticks.

Ginny sidles up next to him and sighs, "I guess we need a test to see if we can be best mates."

"Well," Harry begins, voice heavy, "I want to be a brachiosaurus when I grow up."

"Microraptor or nothing," Ginny shoots back with equal seriousness.

Harry's laugh is loud enough to draw a few stares and he finally leans in to murmur, "Go out with me?"