The Art of Coquetry

By PepsiAngel

Author's Note: I'm an awful writer person, aren't I? Thank you for being so patient. This is the final chapter. It also might be my last fan fiction ever, to be honest. More about that at the bottom of the page.

Dedication: To Lindsay, Black Opal, because she is one of my favorite people in the world. Oh, and she's turning fifteen. Happy Birthday, doll.

Chapter Five: Hand in Hand

So, Ginny decided as she stared at Harry uncertainly, this is what it feels like to genuinely want to die. She had yanked him into an empty classroom but had yet to think of a way to gently tell him she had been setting him up this past week. Instead, they were standing there staring at each other in sheer anxiety.

Jolly good time if she ever had one.

. . . Or, ya know, not.

"What do you mean?" he finally demanded, looking as if he'd rather not know.

She took a deep breath and decided to cut right to the chase. Do it the Band Aid way, quick and painful. It might hurt for a bit but he would eventually get over it. Or, better yet, just do it at lightening speed and he wouldn't even be able to register what he had been told.

"Are you mentally procrastinating so you don't have to answer me?"

Humph.

"No, of course not," she replied coldly, giving him her patented evil eye. He was always far too good at the whole mind reading thing. It was downright creepy, if you asked her.

"You're doing it again."

This was bordering on harassment. Harry, you overgrown Hippogriff turd, would you stop making this so bloody difficult?

"That's uncalled for, Ginny," he said. There was a glint in his eye as though he found it terribly amusing.

"Hello, I'm here to make a horrible, scarring confession that could possibly ruin our relationship forever!"

Harry winced and mumbled sheepishly, "Oh, yeah, I forgot."

She made the sign of the cross, apologized to Catholics everywhere for abusing said sign, and muttered a quick prayer to everything holy that Harry wouldn't go all crazy and start throwing strategically placed chairs and cursing at her. She didn't want to get into a giant catfight with him but if she had to, she would. Just in case, she did a few stretches and studied her nails to make sure they were in top clawing mode. They were.

"So, I supposed you want me to tell you what happened?" she prodded.

"Well, yeah," he commented. "That's why I asked. Twice."

Oh yeah. Heh, heh.

She forced a smile and thus began retelling the whole story of how she had come to set him up this past week with humiliation after humiliation.

"It's not that I wanted to make a fool out of you," she assured him after her confession. "I didn't even realize what I was doing might hurt you in any way. I was only trying to figure out a way to see if you were interested in other girls the best way I knew how. It was terribly silly, really, when I could have just asked."

Harry, whose face had been impassive and voice silent the whole time, now looked visibly upset. "Why didn't you, then?"

"Well, because, I suppose I was afraid to simply ask you. I didn't want you to know how I had been feeling. I was doubting us and I hated that. I love you, Harry. I always have, and I realized this week that I always will."

He looked down.

"Harry, please, understand, I don't know how to tell you how much I care about you. You have to trust me when I tell you that I do, because I have never been one for expressing how I feel. That's what started this whole thing in the first place."

He continued to examine his feet closely.

"Oh, come on. Are your shoes that fascinating? Listen to me! I'm pouring my heart out and you won't even look me in the eyes," she snapped.

He shook his head, "I can't believe you'd turn this on me and make it look like I am the one who's wrong."

"Why does this have to be about who is wrong and who is right?"

"Isn't it?"

"No! It is about you and I-- our relationship."

"I think you are just saying that because you know you were in the wrong."

"And I think you need to grow up, Mr. Potter."

"This coming from the girl who had Neville grill me about girls and Parvati give an impromptu lap dance?"

"It wasn't a bloody lap dance! It was a . . . karaoke fashion show."

"That's a unique way of looking at it."

"Can we please get back to the subject at hand? We were discussing the mistake I made."

"Oh, right," he told her apologetically. "Carry on."

She took his hand in hers and became very solemn. "You've heard all I have to say. You know how I feel and where I stand as far as we are concerned. It's up to you, now, to decide where we go from here."

"I have already made my decision," he replied and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "A soon as you said it was a karaoke fashion show I knew I couldn't live without you in my life."

"Oh, that's horribly romantic," she quipped but she was beaming so hard her face hurt.

"Don't push me, Ginny," he warned with mock anger. She giggled as he placed a tender kiss on her fingertips.

They were descending into a sickening level of sweetness.

And enjoying every minute of it, mind you.

"Will you promise me that you will never pull something like this again?" Harry asked.

"Of course," she told him. "If I do, you can subject me to an impromptu lap dance by Neville."

"It's a deal," he promised. "Should we go inside?"

"Let's," Ginny agreed. Then the two walked back into Hogwarts, still hand in hand.

*

The end was ripped from my first ever story, which also happened to be a G/H. I thought it was rather fitting to end on the same note I had so long ago. I've really grown as a writer since then, and I have fanfiction.net to thank for that. Oh, I'm getting all sentimental but just know this site and everyone who has ever reviewed my work has helped me and inspired me tremendously. Thank you.