"I'm thinking," Ron announced, and fell silent, as though he actually was.
The four teenagers were sitting beneath Harry's favourite tree down by the lake, the weather far too nice to waste inside the castle. Harry was leaning back against it, Ginny's body pressed wonderfully against his, sitting between his legs. Ron was lying flat on his face in the cool grass, one hand picking idly at the blades. Hermione sat further away, reading.
Actually reading. Because despite the roll of parchment she was scribbling on and the battered copy of Magical Hieroglyphs and Logograms laying across her lap, Harry was very much aware of the fact that his girlfriend hadn't bothered to turn its pages for the past several minutes. He'd strayed the tips of his fingers beneath her blouse then, just over the hem, and she'd arched slightly at his touch, the scent of her hair flooding him like wildflowers in a meadow. Time passed in contented silence, the world of sound alive only with the little splashing noises of water lapping up against the pebbly shore of the lake and her alluring, gentle hums...
Then Ron spoke, and he was unfortunately reminded they were, in fact, not alone. Ginny shifted, sighing heavily, and he kissed the top of her head before adjusting himself.
"Careful with that, Ron," she said. "I don't know if you're very used to the feeling."
"I'm thinking," Ron continued, as if there had been no interruption at all, "that it's too bloody hot."
Harry smiled down appreciatively at Ginny's smooth, bare legs. "I like it."
"Well, fuck off then. I'm sweating like a dragon keeper's arsehole here."
"Go somewhere else, then," said Ginny. "You're ruining my concentration with all this whining, I was just nearly deciphering this rune —"
Harry laughed, perhaps too loudly, because Ron shot him a funny look.
"Not whining," he sat up, very pink in the face and with the pattern of grass imprinted on his forehead, "and you're bloody awful at Runes, you might as well spare Mum the weeks of waiting and write her telling you failed already."
"Ron!" Hermione shrieked, appearing scandalized. "Don't say that! The O.W.L.s are stressful enough without your pessimistic attitude, and provided she follows our study plan," she said with what Harry thought was a rather knowing look, "I think Ginny has an excellent chance —"
"No, I don't," said Ginny with great dignity. "Thanks Hermione, but I'm honestly just aiming for an Acceptable, that's good enough. I am studying," she added after the other girl raised an eyebrow. "I'm just not very good at it. I should've known not to trust Bill's advice, honestly, that was right before he started going out with Phlegm. Complete loss of judgement."
"She sent me a letter this morning," said Harry, as the memory came back to him. His bacon had gotten cold by the time he had finished reading the long parchment decorated with Fleur's dainty calligraphy, a process that would've taken significantly less time if he didn't also keep trying to listen to the animated chitter-chatter around him, not wanting to miss any details of the time Ginny had tried to escape punishment by convincing her parents it was indeed a Jarvey that sneaked into the house and spewed a few bad words.
The girl in question turned to look at him so quickly he couldn't help but chuckle. "What about?"
"Asked me if I would be attending the wedding," Harry shrugged. "If I had proper robes, which I suppose I don't… mentioned a noeud papillon a lot, whatever that is."
"A bow tie," Hermione supplied helpfully and put down her quill, somehow managing to stay focused on her notes and contribute to the conversation.
"See, now I have to reread the whole letter. That's quite crucial information that I missed."
"Of course you're coming to the wedding," Ron said indignantly, swiftly confirming Harry had no choice in the matter. "I don't understand why she would write you just to ask that. I mean, she hasn't sent me any letters asking me anything, and I'm her future brother-in-law, aren't I? A bit rude..." He picked up a rock, tossing it in the general direction of the lake. It fell into the shallows with a satisfying plop.
"That's exactly the reason why she doesn't have to ask you, you muppet," Ginny informed him.
"I'm just saying —"
"— or the fact that it's at the Burrow," Harry joined in blithely. "But if she retracted your invitation I suppose you could always watch it from your bedroom window —"
He dodged instinctively, amused, as Ron picked up another rock and motioned as if he was about to throw it at him.
"Right, you're hilarious — I just thought it would be polite."
Hermione snorted. "Then you shouldn't expect it from Fleur. Listen, she didn't write me either, there's no need to fuss over it," she told him.
"Lucky, I say," Ginny muttered, idly twirling a lock of red hair through her fingers. "She sent me a list of dos and don'ts last week, can you believe it? Like I don't know how to behave properly..."
Harry raised an eyebrow at her, smirking. "You weren't planning on behaving though, were you?"
"I suppose not," she smirked back, her gaze fixed on him. "Especially since you'll be the one accompanying me."
His cheeks burned furiously.
It wasn't long until Ron started complaining about the weather again, and when he threatened to jump into the lake (Harry and Ginny encouragingly concocting a plan that involved him courting the Giant Squid and wreaking havoc on the Slytherin common room) Hermione finally snapped her book shut and asked if he would be happier in the library.
He must be delirious with the heat, Harry decided, because he said yes.
"You lot coming?" Ron asked them, shaking the grass off his trousers.
Ginny turned a page of her book absentmindedly, though Harry saw the corners of her lips twitch. "No, of course not." He felt rather giddy himself.
Ron opened his mouth to protest, already turning back, but Hermione dragged him out of their sight with surprising strength and just like that, they were alone.
They turned to each other at the same time; he leaned his head down to kiss her as she hooked a leg around his waist, moving to straddle him. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer, savouring the way her chest pressed against his, the feeling of her hands running through his hair, her nails scratching slightly at his scalp sending shivers down his spine —
She pulled back suddenly, and he blinked a few times, somewhat disoriented.
Her hand moved from his neck to gently push the hair out of his eyes. "You're really coming to the wedding, yeah?" she asked, her voice uncharacteristically quiet.
Normally he would've teased her for bringing it up, made a joke about rethinking her decision to accompany him and valuing her toes too much to subject them to his dancing skills.
"Of course I am," he replied instead in that same gentle tone, frowning in confusion but wanting to reassure her. "Something wrong?"
"I don't know, Harry," she paused. "I mean, it's really getting quite dangerous out there, isn't it, and you have all those lessons with Dumbledore this year and fuck, Fleur is in the Order right, so it would make sense that she knows something I don't, and —"
Oh.
It was easy around Ginny, with her hair shining so impossibly beautiful in the sunlight, to forget all about Horcruxes and the prophecy and all those other problems. It was wonderful to lose himself in her, to bask in her laughter, to think of nothing but her entrancingly dappled skin and how soft it felt, the way she moved and sighed and whispered in his ear; to feel a joy that had been missing in his life.
But of course it couldn't be that simple. Because for all those weeks of oblivion he had years of incessant dreading, of losing sleep, his heart a heavy burden. Of course she worried, and Harry wasn't even allowed to tell her, couldn't share the reason he worried too. Couldn't even properly comfort her.
Harry looked away, his mouth drawn in a tight line. She waited for an answer. "I'm… things are complicated right now, yes."
Ginny nodded slowly.
"I gave Dumbledore my word I wouldn't tell anyone but Ron and Hermione what is that we're meeting about," he explained lamely, because naturally she knew that. "I'm sorry. The Order doesn't know either. But I do — I do think I'm safe Ginny, and I don't want you to worry, honest, I swear if I could tell you —"
"It's all right," she interrupted.
Harry let out a breath, he was feeling quite agitated. "It is?"
"Well no, it's not," she conceded. "I don't like being left in the dark, Harry. Hate it, in fact. You know that."
He grimaced. "Yeah."
"But I understand."
She said it so easily Harry had to blink several times again.
"I do," she murmured, her index finger lightly tracing the buttons of his shirt, warm and pleasant. "Even if it frustrates me a little. I can deal with that."
Harry stared at the lake. The sun was starting to hang low in the sky now; it shone brightly on the surface of the water creating a myriad of sparkles.
She understood. An overwhelming feeling came over him and he experienced something strange, something that radiated pleasantly inside his chest. He knew it bothered her more than she was letting on, if he'd learned anything about her during their time with the Order in Grimmauld Place, but the mere fact that she was still there, reassuring, not yelling at him that he didn't trust her or running off meant more than he knew how to express.
She tugged gently at his collar, recalling his attention. He smiled. "I hate to be the one to tell you this, Ginny, but I have no doubt you will find plenty of other reasons to be frustrated with me."
"Yeah? Care to give an example?"
"Well, I'm wearing mismatched socks right now, for starters. Can never find a pair."
"Ugh," she huffed, exaggerating her disappointment, "you're right. That's number one on the list of things I absolutely cannot forgive."
They laughed loudly as they usually did when they were together, the smallest of jokes somehow sounding much funnier than they would if told by anyone else. He loved that — how they seemed to bounce off each other, saying increasingly ridiculous things, delighting in each other's laughter. Having fun around her felt remarkably natural.
He tightened his arms around her waist, wanting her close, and she rested her head on his shoulder.
"Comes with the territory, I reckon," Ginny said after a moment. "Really, I just wanted to hear that you're safe."
He leaned back to look at her; the affection in her eyes almost too much to bear. "I am," he managed.
"Good," she giggled, scrunching up her nose and looking irresistibly adorable, "because against all odds, Phlegm actually did get me a phenomenal bridesmaid dress. I'd hate for you to miss it."
Harry tried to keep his wits about him, say something clever, but it was hard to think as Ginny's flowery scent washed over him. She was kissing him again, and he groaned into her mouth, his stomach giving an excited jolt, and he let his entire body be filled with a warmth that had nothing to do with the weather.