"Dance with me?"
"Harry, don't make me."
Harry runs a hand over her shoulder, toys with the tired curls at the end of her hair. "I want to show off a bit - I'm the only bloke here with a famous sports star wife."
Sighing, Ginny leans her head sideways and rests her head on his hand so his fingers are caught between her cheek and shoulder. "Yes, but the famous sports star wife is one of six atrociously dressed witches at this wedding. And she really can't bear a turn around the dancefloor."
"I think you look lovely."
"Who knew Angelina had such hideous taste?"
"Plus the...glowing quality of the green makes you easier to spot in the crowd."
Ginny stiffens and shoots a dangerous scowl toward Harry. "Don't."
"What?"
"I know where you sleep," Ginny says, eyes narrowing, even as she accepts his proffered hand.
"Just one dance - no teasing."
"Sure."
Harry leads her out to the floor, twisting a bit until his eyes connect with Lee's across the room. Abruptly the music swaps out the upbeat tempo for a slow, sort of soppy romantic ballad. He pulls Ginny closer so their clasped hands rest against his chest.
"Not so bad right?" Harry murmurs against her temple.
Ginny chuckles, "Not quite as bad as I thought it'd be. Angelina is still on my list."
"Higher than me?"
"Entirely different categories," Ginny answers with a quiet laugh.
"But I win?"
She sighs again. "Sadly, yes."
"Even with the dancing and the dress?"
"You can make this up to me way easier than Angelina," Ginny chuckles.
Harry kisses her forehead. "Well it's a good thing - George and I would be quite put out otherwise."