The next time Harry saw Ginny, it was in London. It was just after noon on a Thursday, a week after Charlie's party, and Harry had decided to come up to Diagon Alley for some shopping. Ginny had gotten off work at a decent hour for the first time in about two years. To celebrate her lunch hour being appropriately placed during lunchtime, she thought she'd take herself out to a café somewhere close by.
As she heaved open the door of her office building (Ginny was lucky to have Weasleys for brothers and Harry Potter for a friend. The boys had pulled some strings and gotten her a nice placement at Whizz Hard Books as a junior editor), Ginny felt a rush of cold wind. I knew that beautiful weather couldn't possibly hold, she thought glumly. Ginny started down the cobblestone street, trying to decide which restaurant to patronize. Another great gust came up and she felt the hem of her skirt lift slightly. She groped for her skirt so as not to expose herself, but as she did this she was forced to loosen her grip on her portfolio. Weeks' worth of Ginny's hard work flapped away on an updraft and landed ten feet away in a flowerbed.
Ginny rushed after the renegade portfolio. As she approached the planter, she saw a hand stretch out and grasp her folder. She opened her mouth to protest, but stopped as her eyes followed the large hand up to wide shoulders, then up to a very familiar face.
"Harry! Fancy seeing you here!" Ginny hadn't meant to sound so…dowdy, but Harry didn't notice. He was grinning widely at her now, and the hand that held the portfolio was outstretched.
"You want to be careful with this, Miss Weasley. It's a beautiful piece. Genuine leather, I'd say."
Ginny took the folder from him and explained that there had been a freak wind and that she had had to choose between her decency and her career.
"Speaking of your fruitful career -" he said with a wry grin.
"You're one to talk," Ginny interrupted moodily. "You're unemployed! Remember, Harry, people in glass houses shouldn't beat Bludgers."
"Anyway," he said as they began walking toward Gringotts. "I've never known you to have a lunch hour free. Mr. Higgs keeps a rather short leash on you, I had thought."
"That's very true. We held a publishing party last night for a new poisonous plant guidebook, though that's not to say that I was invited. I can't remember the title, but it's old Arsenius Jigger writing again. Anyway, things are always a little bit slower the day after a big party. You know how it is, everyone recovering from all the butterbeer and firewhisky. And since it's such a small company, practically everyone's called in sick. So I guess we've given up for today. Magnus is giving me a small rest."
Magnus Higgs was Ginny's boss. He had been working at Whizz Hard Books since its inception in 1894. At the time, he was a teenager laboring on the actual presses. In the century since then, he had crawled up the career ladder and now held half the shares of the company. Mr. Higgs especially liked Ginny, whom he called Miss Weasley, or, if he was in a very good mood, Ginevra. Although Mr. Higgs respected Ginny, he considered her method of promotion highly corrupt. Because he had pulled himself up by his bootstraps, as it were, he resented Ginny's "connections". At 21, he had been slaving at the old-fashioned presses in the heat, rather than inhabiting a comfortable office with a dragon hide swivel chair ("And she's got windows, too!" He had reported to Mr. Weasley). So Ginny tried not to complain that he rarely gave her lunch breaks or holidays.
The two stopped outside La Sorciére Vieille.
"This place has a great mixed salad," said Harry nervously.
"Sounds great," Ginny said, wondering for what reason Harry could be nervous about lunch.
They had a seat and a waiter gave them menus.
"Flobberworms?" Said Ginny after looking it over, obviously disgusted beyond imagination.
"Yeah, it's a French specialty," Harry said, chuckling. "They're really not that bad, you know."
Ginny looked up from her menu to check if he was joking, and sure enough, he was. She kicked him playfully under the table and decided on the mixed salad.
The waiter came back, and Harry ordered for them. How…manly, Ginny thought. The picture of etiquette.
The two talked lightly about the Weasley clan, about the joke shop and about Neville's new nursery (Longbottom's Potted Plants- If I Break a Flowerpot During Your Visit, You Get the Garden Flower of Your Choice, Free!)
After the salads had been devoured, the couple sat in silence, waiting for the bill.
"Gin, I'm really glad I ran into you," Harry blurted after a few minutes. He was suddenly looking ill-at-ease and was shifting in his seat.
"Yeah, me too, Harry. It was a good time." She smiled slightly.
"The thing is, Ginny," He was positively green now, "I'm really glad I got to see you, because I have a…proposition."
"Harry, are you okay?" Ginny asked as she poured him another glass of water.
"Well, I would be a lot better…if you would agree to…come to dinner and a concert with me on Saturday night." He finally exhaled and was rapidly turning very pink.
I thought he was going to tell me that he had a horrible flesh-eating parasite in his intestines and was painfully dying. Why would he be so nervous about a date? A date? A date? Did he just ask me on a date?
"You mean, like, as a date?" Ginny ultimately vocalized, frowning curiously.
Why is she frowning? Harry thought, getting panicky. Oh, Merlin! Why is she frowning? What have I done? Well, now I have to answer. There's nothing for it. Here I go.
"Well…yeah."
"Oh. Yeah, sure. I'd like that," Ginny nodded and smiled. Wait a second. Would I like that? Oh well. Can't back out of it now.
"Sir, Madam, thank you for dining. Please come back again," the waiter had showed up in the middle of what might have been a very loud silence. Harry paid for lunch and collected his things. He turned to leave but stopped, waiting for Ginny. As one of his arms was awkwardly bent with his hand on his hip, she put her arm through his and they exited the café. They walked in near silence with arms clasped until they reached number 129, Whizz Hard Books.
Harry said, "I'll come to your flat at eight. The concert starts at eight-thirty."
"Wait, who's playing?" Ginny asked, expecting Harry to say it was Celestina Warbeck or some other crooning lump that her mum listened to. Instead, Harry told her that he had a VIP pass to the Weird Sisters concert.
"Harry! How'd you get one of those?" Ginny was so pleased all of a sudden that Harry gained a little of his nerve back and said haughtily, "By being the Boy Who Lived, of course."
He had become so cocky, in fact, that he leaned in to Ginny and kissed her cheek. He stood back again, smiling at her. She returned the smile and watched him walk off to do his shopping, a spring in his step quite visible.
Ginny was somewhat flustered after the episode, and had a rather difficult time concentrating on her work. Mr. Higgs poked his head into her office just before three o' clock and was startled to find her giggling as she researched current Ministry copyright laws.
