A/N: little Drabble!
The bar is dimly lit, a bit more upscale in classiness than his usual haunts. Less sticky floors, more double digit mixed drinks, plus less than half the starters are fried. Healthy, clean, and definitely a little disappointing. But he's got good reason to hang about. At least for the time being.
He's been a bit of a ghost lately, the type of bloke that proposes to his girlfriend, gets a yes, and then promptly leaves the continent. And to make it all the more horrendous, Ginny's been understanding and loving and supportive. As usual.
Which is why he's here, in a stuffy bar, and wearing his best dress robes at that. The worst part about the robes is his own fault. The very stiff, starchy collar that stabs him remains overly stiff and starchy because of his refusal to wear them without being wrestled into their dark, non-breathable depths.
"Can I get you anything else?"
Harry swallows the last of his firewhiskey - a disappointing half sip - and shakes his head. "Just one - ice this time."
A bit of smoke pours out of his ears as he takes another swallow, ice clinking against the sides of the glass, when a pair of arms wraps around his shoulders and his finger finds the new bit of jewelry cool against his touch. Ginny.
"You must be the reason for global warming," her lips brush his ear, "Because you're hot."
She blows out a long, steady breath as her arms wrap tighter around his shoulders and Harry inhales, getting a very definitive indication that Ginny's far ahead of him in the drinks department.
His hands find her wrists, lifting one to his lips. Her compliance with his shifting of her position is indicator number two about her alcohol consumption. "Actually, it's primarily because of too much carbon dioxide in the atmosphere."
Ginny nips at his ear and sighs. "Smart Harry is so sexy."
He hums and Ginny rounds his barstool, palm holding on the back of his seat so he's somehow surrounded by her. "So's Surprise Harry. I didn't expect you tonight."
His hand finds her free one, fingers knitting and unknitting between her fingers, his thumb sliding against her knuckles.
"Why Harry, we're in public!" Ginny murmurs in an exaggerated, scandalized tone.
After taking another swallow of his drink Harry lets his knees part enough that he can pull Ginny closer. "It's just hand holding."
"Not when you look at me like that."
"This is how I always look at you."
"Exactly."