IV.
It happens when the Harpies lose.
By the middle of November, Holyhead was nearly out of the running for the Cup. To even have the faintest chance of overhauling Tutshill, they had to beat Kenmare, and win the last three League matches of the year. A monumentally tall order, but – one game at a time, right?
Just before the match Ginny, peeping out at the stands, had reflexively scanned the Top Box. Her breath caught in her throat as she saw the familiar black-haired head, not looking her way, talking casually to someone else – probably one of her brothers. Then she pushed it to the back of her mind. This game was it. Make or break time.
When the Kestrels' Seeker caught the Snitch, Ginny was holding the Quaffle. As she landed, she was conscious she had done her best as had everyone else, but she barely had the strength left to mourn. In the Players' locker-room Gwenog didn't even have the heart to yell at them. All she said was: "Go on, have what's left of the weekend off. I'm going to go get my brains shagged out so I don't have to think."
Ginny would have liked nothing better herself, but Harry wasn't there Backstage to share the loss with her. Losers don't get the boy, thought Ginny. Then she said angrily out loud, "Snap the fuck out of it, Ginny!" and went back home to the Burrow, where she put her Quidditch gear into the wash, suffered with good grace the sympathetic attentions of her parents, ate three helpings of shepherd's pie and two of Mum's honey cake, and went to bed early.
The next match, everyone resolved to at least salvage their pride, if not the Cup. There was a kind of relief knowing they were not playing for a win any more, and the Harpies took out all their frustrations on the poor Wimbourne Wasps, taking a twenty-goal lead early on and extending it mercilessly. Gwenog rotated out the Second Seven to give them more flight hours, and as she wheeled away after sinking her tenth goal of the match, out of the corner of her eye Ginny saw the black-haired figure in the Top Box punch the air, and her insides flipped.
But he wasn't there in the visitors' reception room when Ginny went to look – casually – on the way from the loo – simply because if he was there, it would have been churlish of her not to just say 'hi'…
Maybe he simply came to see the game with Ron and George or something. It doesn't mean anything.
And no, he wasn't there either next week, at the second-last League match of the season. So there you go. Ginny told herself sternly that it didn't mean anything to her anyway. And besides, it was probably better that way, at least he didn't have to witness the Harpies get pounded into the dirt by the Appleby Arrows. At the Harpies' home grounds.
Except, of course, he did, because there was Harry when Ginny sloped out of the locker room still in her Harpies flying togs, dragging her broom and kit and not caring if it scuffed the floor.
"Harry? What are you doing here?" Ginny blurted out. She was suddenly aware that she stank, her braid was practically undone, her makeup was non-existent – and that this was the first time she was face-to-face with Harry bloody Potter since, well…
"I managed to catch the last fifteen minutes," said Harry, with a rueful half-grimace, half-smile. "I thought I'd see if you wanted to – to commiserate over dinner." His face fell, and he half-stared at his feet, watching her from under his brows.
She thought she could hear her heart speed up in the silent few seconds that followed. "I'd love to," said Ginny softly. "Can I – can you meet me at the Burrow in ten minutes?"
Harry smiled more fully then. The sight did wonderful things to Ginny's stomach she couldn't describe. "Take all the time you need."
Ginny walked slowly to the Floo; halfway she broke into a dash. She was sure she set a new record for washing, scrubbing, changing and putting on her makeup. To Mum and Dad, she muttered a quick "I'm going out for dinner love you bye" and disappeared before Mum could comment.
They had fish and chips in Whitby, fresh-caught and piping hot, flaky and crispy. They ate with their hands out of a paper box while leaning against the quayside railings, watching fishermen manoeuvre their trawlers up to the wharf and land their catches, families flocking to the riverside restaurants for dinner, middle-aged pensioners strolling up and down the narrow promenade. Ginny talked about the League and told funny stories about her team-mates; Harry caught her up with Ministry doings and general gossip. And they both gave each other their fullest attention.
"There's no way we can get the Cup now," Ginny said, "but we can still get fourth place if we beat Montrose. That's something. And I've had a good season. Gwenog likes me, if Cadwallader retires, I might get a shot at the First Seven. Would've been more likely if we got the Cup, but well, fourth isn't too bad."
"I'll be watching," Harry told her.
Ginny eyed him sidelong. "That's next weekend. On Wednesday evening, we've a friendly against a Spanish club."
"I'll be there," he said again.
"What about your Auror work?" Ginny softened the words with a friendly look of concern.
"I've learned something really important. Two, actually. One, as the boss keeps telling me, the investigation won't go any faster if I stay in the office reading and re-reading case notes. And two," said Harry with a small smile, "some things are more worth my time."
It was a good start. That night, Ginny went to bed feeling just a little bit warmer deep inside than she'd had for months.
Exhibition matches – 'friendlies' – were a great way for second-string players to show their worth, and Gwenog let them have their fair share of flight time and more, even cycling the Lead Chaser position so each of the second-string had their chance to set the plays. Ginny missed Harry the first half of the game, but he was there in the second half, and spotting him, she whooped right there and then, before she could catch herself.
"Aye, we're doing alright," said Alex Trevelyan, flying by and misinterpreting the reason for her cheer.
Per Quidditch etiquette, Ginny should have been required to hobnob with the Spanish team afterwards, dinner, drinking, the works; but she slipped away as soon as she had showered and changed, and found Harry. It felt wholly natural to run and fling her arms around him. Then she remembered, and drew back awkwardly. Remembered what you two aren't now, Ginny? You don't have the right to casual intimacy like that any more, do you? "Let's have dinner," she said quickly, to cover up the moment.
But Harry's smile was all eagerness. "Let's."
It was just late enough in November that the first Christmas markets were open. In Birmingham, Ginny and Harry strolled through a vast square centred on a fountain in which a large bronze woman reclined, the whole space packed tight with marquees and every inch covered with fairy lights and Christmas ornaments. Between Harry's Dursley-dominated upbringing and Ginny's wizarding one, everything they saw was new and exciting to them, but they found that they could ask about anything and get a cheerful answer in explanation.
They bought some novelty toys and ornaments; ate sausages, pies, and heavy bread studded with nuts, pieces of dried fruit and marzipan; and drank rich creamy hot chocolate. There was a huge crowd of shoppers so Ginny slipped her arm through Harry's, laced her fingers through his and held on tight.
Harry beamed down at her, and Ginny's cheeks flamed warm and red.
She felt like she had never let go.
They didn't stop holding hands as Harry walked Ginny up the Burrow's garden path, much later that night.
Nearly at the front door, Ginny turned to face him. Harry suddenly flushed, and looked down at his feet. "Ginny," he said, a little hoarsely. "What are we?"
Ginny looked down at their hands, feeling herself blushing too. Friends. Really amicable exes. Your best mate's little sister. On a break."Better," she finally said.
Harry came closer, and put one chapped hand on her cheek. "I've really, really missed you."
"Me too," she whispered. She closed her eyes and pressed her face into his hand, herself against him.
The kiss was gentle, sweet, almost chaste; it tasted of chocolate, and of Harry, of Hogwarts, and hope.
When they parted, his eyes were dancing almost mischievously.
"Next week," he promised. "I'll be there."
Ginny nodded, a kind of goofy half-smile quirking one side of her mouth up. "I know."
The half-smile had broadened uncontrollably into a full grin by the time she jumped into bed, and stayed as she slept.
The last match of the League was an away game for the Harpies, at the Montrose stadium in northwest Scotland. Last fixtures tended to be anticlimactic, with most placings already having been decided, but this year the Harpies and Magpies were tied for fourth place, making it a match well worth watching… and fighting for. At the fly-off Ginny scanned the stands, and didn't see Harry. She tried not to think about that, and to focus on the game.
Montrose fought hard for every goal, determined not to lose on home ground, and the score was neck to neck. The famous Scottish weather made its appearance as the afternoon wore on, sometimes freezing and other times merely wet. The ball was slippery and the Harpies fumbled more often than their canny northern opponents, who were more used to playing in this weather. Ginny was substituted in after just twenty minutes, Coach choosing to rest the Harpies' front line in anticipation of a long game. Each player would take the game in twenty-minute shifts for the rest of the day.
At about four in the afternoon, Ginny scored again, and as she did a victory roll spotted Harry in the Top Box, cheering. She broke into a big smile, and her throwing arm felt a hundred times stronger.
First Seeker Tabitha 'Tabby' Lewis caught the Snitch one hour and four of Ginny's goals later, to huge cheers from the Visitors' end of the stadium, and disappointed, polite applause from the Home end. Ginny showered in a dash, pushed past her team-mates and raced to reception. Harry was there, his hair wet and plastered down except for one die-hard tuft at the back.
"Yeh could weel be Harry bliddy Potter fer all ah ken, laddie," the formidable welcome-witch was telling him, "ah dinnae care; ah've nae bin told of noo visitors fer Miss Weasley tae be allowed backstage, so ye kin jist stay oot 'ere awl night."
"Harry!" screamed Ginny, flinging herself on him.
"Is 'e then, fook!"
"Sorry I was late," said Harry, a little uncertainly.
"Not as late as you usually are, you actually caught some of the game," teased Ginny. "Come on, I'm starving!"
They bought fish and chips and a bag of deep-fried Mars bar bits from a chippy in Muggle Montrose, and watched anglers fish for flounder and bass on the beach, enjoying the peace, the tranquility, each other. They found a patch of fine sand and sat down, secure in the knowledge that a quick charm would dust off every clinging grain. They ate and talked and watched the life flow around them, and through them.
Ginny solved one mystery that evening.
"I saw you in the stands that day when we got knocked out by the Kestrels," said Ginny, licking her fingers clean. "Why didn't you come find me afterwards?"
Harry sighed. "I wasn't ready to, yet. I thought you would still be, well... it took me a couple of matches to work up the courage."
It hurt Ginny almost physically to know this was how far apart they'd gone, how estranged they had become in two short months. But they were here now, it had all turned out alright in the end. "I'm glad you did, eventually," she said.
"So am I."
Being with Harry awakened an interest in her that she had almost forgotten about – but once ignited, grew stronger and more pressing every passing second. Ginny burrowed into Harry's side, resting her head on the angle of his shoulder, and placed one small hand on his chest, as if reassuring herself of the thudding, beating life within. Harry on his part was happy to curl his arm around her and hold her tight, his other hand playing almost nonchalantly with the fingers of her free hand, trailing artlessly across her stomach. Every now and then he buried his face in her hair, and Ginny snickered to herself – she knew what a turn-on that was for him.
As last light fell and the beach emptied of fishermen and families, she craned her head back and whispered, "Apparate us back to Grimmauld Place."
He looked down, his expression suddenly solemn. But Ginny recognised the fire in his eye, and touched her lips gently to the corner of his. "Please," she said softly.
Their lovemaking was slow, almost ritualistic. Ginny's hands roamed Harry's body, touching, caressing, enflaming; Harry laid her down on the bed and oh so slowly reacquainted his lips with every sensitive spot, every pulse point, while Ginny writhed and clutched at his messy hair. When he entered her she gasped and flung her arms around his neck, twined her legs around his ankles. Then the long, slow, familiar dance; Harry rocking her with deliciously-aching regularity, Ginny biting her lip and undulating beneath him in rhythm, foreheads pressed together, half-smiles on their faces, enjoying the sensations of each other's bodies, drawing out every agonisingly-pleasurable second as long as they could.
At the last, Ginny crushed him close, kissed him so every inch of skin that could was touching, head to toe, and gasped "Oh, Harry!" into his mouth. When she scrunched her eyes shut to the storm of the climax, she felt tears squeeze out.
Afterwards, they lay side by side in bed, still entwined, staring into each other's eyes, breaths mingling, and Ginny wished she could freeze this moment forever.
A few minutes later, when she felt she had caught her breath enough to actually speak, Ginny said, "Harry, do you know? I love you. I really do love you."
Harry nodded, said in his serious, quiet way: "I love you too."
"These past months," said Ginny, gulping, "it's been sheer bloody hell. Everything was different… lesser, somehow…"
"It's been the same for me," said Harry. "I couldn't take it. So I just threw myself into the work. I thought – well, I thought if that was it for you and me, then that's all I have left. But now…"
Now life has meaning again.
Ginny nestled closer into Harry's side, felt him kiss her forehead gently and wrap his arms around her, and slept, deep and sound and sweet.
That December was mercifully a slow month, as the holiday mood infected even Quidditch Captains and evil-doers alike.
Perhaps it was the magic of Christmas. Perhaps it was Wizarding Britain being finally tired of war and strife, and finally ready to sit down and discuss their differences peaceably. Or perhaps it was just a Christmas truce, as temporary and fleeting as that famous first one was.
Either way, Harry and Ginny made the most of it. They were not too old to feel jaded yet; there were all the usual rounds of house-decorating, present-buying, dinner-partying; and they set to with enthusiasm. Somewhere along the way they found opportunities to sneak away for more alone time. That was one of the resolutions they had made – to set aside more time to get to know each other.
Brighton Pier was a riot of red, blue and green, crowded with happy holidaymakers and redolent with the smell of the sea, roasting chestnuts, mince pies and sweet treats of all kinds. A church choir perfumed the air with angelic voices, singing timeless messages of faith, hope and love. Harry and Ginny licked ice-creams and strolled arm in arm down the wooden jetty, watching the revellers, inspecting the shop displays, and enjoying being together.
"You know, I bet I could Transfigure that to look like the Hogwarts Express myself," said Harry, eyeing a breathtakingly-detailed train set in one shop display.
"Who for?" asked Ginny incredulously. "Teddy's not even three! And you've gotten him a huge box of those colourful connectable bricks already – which Andie isn't likely to thank you for – and stocking stuffers enough to fill a troll's sock!"
"Yeah, all right," said Harry, tearing himself away. "I'm sure I could even make it run without batteries..." he muttered.
Ginny snickered. "What, and deprive Dad of the pleasure of messing about with yet another electric toy?" She turned to face him, and said a little more seriously, "Harry – let's talk."
They found a quiet spot by the rail, and gazed briefly out into the night-cloaked sea, listening to the waves crashing upon the shore, in stark counterpoint to the bright lights and sounds of festive cheer behind them. Harry looked round at her, unconsciously biting his lip; half his face in shadow, winking Christmas lights reflected off the other half. He looked like a puppy waiting to be scolded, and Ginny repressed a rising urge to kiss him and make him feel better.
Because some things had to be said as well as done. They both knew that now.
"I'm sorry about what happened," she said. "I shouldn't have gotten hacked off with you like that, and I was totally unfair to Cho… and you."
"We both made mistakes," Harry said quickly, always eager to shoulder blame. "I'm sorry too, sorry I didn't spend more time with you."
"Not all of it was your fault. There were times I was just being an unreasonable cow," admitted Ginny. "I should have been more clear what I wanted from you, and I should have been more understanding when you had to go."
"I'm sorry about my damn job – I know you hate it and all, and I'll try to..."
"I don't," said Ginny. Harry lifted an eyebrow. "No, really, I don't. Like I told you before – it's a really important thing that needs doing, and no-one else is willing, except you, and I know you do it for us both... it's why I like you so much – it's why I love you so much."
He looked earnestly into her eyes. "I love you too, Ginny. Ever since… I dunno, Hogwarts maybe… there's no-one else. There's never been anyone else. There isn't even the thought that there could be anyone else, believe me."
"I believe you. There's no-one else for me either. You're the only one I could ever feel – almost wholewith." Ginny looked down. "When we were… apart… it was terrible. I missed you, missed talking to you, eating with you, even being in a room with you. When we're together, even when you're away, it felt different knowing you were, well… mine."
"Things got pretty grim on my end too," Harry said. "Ron and Hermione had to pull me out of the dumps a few times. Hermione gave me some great advice."
"Me too. Smart girl, that," said Ginny, and they shared a rueful laugh.
Harry squeezed her hands. "Anyway, I'll tell Robards to give me a little more slack. And I won't bottle things up so much. We'll talk things out properly the next time."
"We will," said Ginny. Here goes. "We're going to have to," she said. Just a tad apprehensively, she took out the folded letter she had received that morning, and had kept re-reading every ten minutes the whole day long. "Because things just got a little more complicated. As usual."
Harry glanced down, sucked in a breath when he saw the Holyhead Harpies crest embossed across the top. "Is that what I think it is?"
She watched his face anxiously to gauge his reaction. "Cadwallader's hanging up her broom. And, well… they've picked me to replace her."
"You're on the First Seven!" breathed Harry. A slow smile formed on his face, growing wider and wider until he was grinning like a schoolboy. "Oh my God, that's amazing, you're amazing, Ginny!"
Harry was practically bouncing, and Ginny laughed to see him so excited. How could she ever have doubted his support for her career? He swept her up in his arms, and kissed her, and Ginny found herself lost once again in those sweet, darling lips.
There were chuckles all around them, a couple of whistles, some passing wags called out things like "There ya go love!" and "Steady on, lad!" But neither of them cared.
They broke apart – but only a little way. Harry and Ginny stayed close, wrapped around each other, foreheads touching, connected – one.
To Ginny's surprise, Harry's eyes were moist. "You, Ginny," he said thickly. "You are the future I could never have dreamed of, once. That I thought would never be, for me. You, this, everything. Whatever may come, whatever may happen to us – I want you in my life. If you'll have me."
Ginny kissed him again, softly. "There's nothing I want more."
Fireworks shrilled into the sky and burst with thundering booms and sharp crackles, bright blossoming flowers of red and blue and green and yellow. Of course, the effects were not as brilliant as that of a Dr. Filibuster or a Weasley Whiz-Bang, nor even the more elaborately-choreographed Muggle firework displays, but there was a touching innocence in its heartfelt simplicity. Cheers and excited shouts went up from the crowd.
Harry and Ginny turned to watch, their arms wrapped around each other, home again at last.
They would never ever leave.
Oh, Christmas lights
Light up the street
Light up the fireworks in me
May all your troubles soon be gone
Those Christmas lights keep shining on.
- Coldplay -
A/N: And it's a wrap! I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I did writing it. Thank you all who were kind enough to drop comments and let me know someone is reading – Godricshelm, Hinny lover, isabel380; your comments in particular were much appreciated. With this story I tried to show how Harry and Ginny would take some time to work out how to maintain their relationship and their extraordinary careers, and how misunderstandings can occur despite the best intentions on all sides. We're seeing Ginny's POV which is not necessarily 100% accurate of course, but not wholly wrong either. She has a habit of making snap judgements which is shown here more than once, and she will need to learn to address that.
As always - let me know what you think, and stay tuned for more!
P.s. Story and title inspired by the song "Christmas Lights", by Coldplay. May your troubles soon be gone!