And, like that, it was the new year. Harry and Ginny were married in a small, private ceremony so as not to attract the Prophet's reporters. He had, of course, never been happier in his life than he was on his wedding day. Ginny felt similarly. Harry sold most of his large furniture and moved into her apartment (he'd been sleeping there for months anyway), where the two would live until their house was built.
Peculiarly, Ginny had a grueling time adjusting to having him around all the time. Since moving out of the Burrow when she was eighteen, she hadn't lived with anyone else full time.
He was there when she got up in the morning, was there when she came back from work, was there while she was getting dressed, while she brushed her teeth, while she cooked, cleaned, ate, slept, went to bathroom…she couldn't escape her claustrophobia. She prayed that when they moved out of her little flat, she could find somewhere in the house to be alone.
It wasn't that she was sick of Harry, quite the contrary, but she simply couldn't unwind after work if she felt that he wanted to talk, or go somewhere, or do something.
For a few months, everything was very awkward. She could no longer, she felt, sit on the sofa in her underwear, listening to the WWN and clipping her toenails. Hygiene and recreation were no longer merged in such a fashion. She became extremely self-conscious when he opened the medicine cabinet and a tampon fell out at him. It didn't help that he screamed, "Get it off! Get it off!"
He was also having a bit of difficulty adjusting. Ginny generally slept less than he did, ran around all day, and still had energy for more. He felt slightly guilty that he worked less than his wife, but she still did most of the cooking. And why was she so quiet? Every day when she got home from work, she would disappear for an hour into the bedroom to read and think, sometimes without even saying hello first. Harry had expected that she would desperately want to talk to her husband about her day. She was excluding him from something, and that bothered him slightly.
For several weeks, their insecurities were pushed to the back of their minds. Neither was comfortable enough to bring up these issues. Although they were great friends and knew each other very intimately, they hadn't really had a big argument, and they were obviously unwilling to disturb the status quo. Finally, one evening in late March, Ginny came home a little later than usual. Harry was sitting in his usual armchair reading the Prophet when she staggered through the door. He looked up suddenly at the commotion as she dropped her keys and her papers flew all over the place. He leaped up and rushed to help her collect the things. She apologized a few times while Harry tried to put some pages in order. He caught sight of her tear-streaked face and his heart stopped as he stretched his hand out to her cheek.
"What happened to you?" he asked softly.
"Nothing." She got up and put her papers on the kitchen table, then went into the bedroom. Harry was used to this behavior, but understood that these were not the usual circumstances. He poured a glass of water and followed her in.
"Darling, please tell me what's wrong." He set the glass on the bedside table.
"It's really nothing, alright?" she snapped. Harry could see that she was trying very hard not to start crying again.
"Was it…something at work?"
"You wouldn't have guessed!" She was getting mean now. They were sitting next to each other on the bed. Harry lay his hand on her thigh.
"Please, Gin. Just talk to me," he begged.
"No, Harry. Look, it's no big deal." She emphasized the last two words.
"Was it that man? That Singh man?"
From the look on his wife's face, he knew he'd guessed correctly. "What'd he do to you?" said Harry, a little too loudly.
"I said, it's no big deal!" Ginny stood up. "It's nothing you can help with! He's leaving the company in a couple of weeks anyway."
"Love, if you're crying about something, it's obviously a big deal. Do you want me to give him a talking-to?" he said this gruffly.
"No! I don't want you to talk to him about anything. Please, Harry, just give me a minute."
Now Harry stood up. "You always want to spend time alone! How do you expect me to help you with anything if you won't even be around me?"
Ginny stared at him long and hard. Her cheeks were very pink and here nostrils were flared. "I - DON'T - NEED - YOUR - HELP!"
Harry was taken aback. "I'M YOUR HUSBAND! We're supposed to help each other!"
"WHY WON'T YOU JUST GIVE ME A BREAK?" she strode to another wall so that they now had ten feet between them.
"WHY DON'T YOU EVER TELL ME ANYTHING?" he shouted back at her.
"BECAUSE…YOU'RE JUST SO…CLUELESS!"
He was more angry than hurt. "Exactly what did you mean by that?"
"Even if I terribly needed to speak to someone about my incredibly bad day, I wouldn't talk to you! You'd just offer to pummel someone for me! It's not going to happen. I don't need you to play the hero. Now please, give me a while." She sat back down on the bed.
"OH! I'LL GIVE YOU A LONG WHILE!" he stormed out of the bedroom, slamming he door behind him, and grabbed his cloak. He threw it over his shoulders and fumed out of the flat.
He had no idea where he was going. He couldn't think properly. Play the hero? PLAY? He had never PLAYED the hero. No, he had been forced into it, and she knew that.
It wasn't dark yet, so there were still plenty of people in the streets, all of whom jumped out of the way as Harry stalked by. Before he knew it, he was standing in front of number 29, Diagon Alley. He knew that she didn't want him to pound Singh, and that was precisely why he was going to do it.
As luck would have it, Nigel Singh was still sitting at his desk, doing numbers. He heard the thumping of footsteps outside, and looked up. Just as he did so, he saw a tall man throw open his office door and stride up to his desk. The man (whom Nigel couldn't remember ever meeting) walked round the desk and seized him by the lapels. Mr. Singh felt himself hit the floor. Then he felt a sharp pain on his face. He was lifted by the lapels again. Nigel opened his eyes and saw a long, frowning face with bright green eyes and a lightning-shaped scar. Something clicked.
"Look, whatever she told you-!" Harry dropped him onto his feet.
"She didn't tell me anything. So I'll ask you. What did you do to my wife?"
Nigel stumbled backwards. "I kissed her. It was a friendly kiss! A good-bye. I'm leaving the company soon!"
"I wouldn't have guessed from all the crying she was doing that it was friendly at all." Harry now stood to his full height and looked down his long nose at Mr. Singh, who was cowering slightly. "If you ever so much as speak to my wife again, it will be much worse than this. Understand?"
"It will be difficult, Mr. Potter, not to speak to her, seeing as we work together," Singh said slyly. He received a punch to the jaw.
"Well, I had understood that you were leaving VERY SOON!" Harry had had enough fist fighting. He raised his wand and pointed it at Nigel's face.
When Harry got home, Ginny was curled up in his armchair with her hands over her face. When she saw him, she sprinted over hugged him.
"I was so worried. I'm sorry. I didn't mean those things," she was in tears again, which made Harry a whole lot less angry. They sat on the sofa.
"You were right. Had you told me what the problem was, I would have offered to beat someone up," he shrugged. "I mean, I had to beat him up anyway…"
Ginny laughed, then realized he was serious. "Harry! You didn't kill him, did you?" It was his turn to laugh.
"No, I didn't kill him. He told me that he had given you a friendly kiss. So I punched him and hexed him a little."
"Harry, if he reports you, you could have a disciplinary hearing!" She looked about to bawl again, but he reassured her that Mr. Singh wouldn't report the incident. "He knows that if he reports me, you'll report him . Anyway, now will you tell me what really happened?"
Ginny looked at her clasped hands. "He said a friendly kiss?"
Harry nodded.
"He cornered me in the break room, of all places, and groped me for a minute. Faustus Hopper heard me struggling and came over. That's why Mr. Singh will be leaving the company shortly. You can bet he was all angry about it, even though I told Higgs I didn't want to file or anything. I don't think he'll get a very good peer evaluation."
She smiled a little and gave Harry a shy kiss on the cheek. She then went to bed without any supper, and even though it was only eight thirty.
