Current Book: Just finished the entire Twilight series by Stephanie Meyer (and I'll be the first to admit - I was exceedingly wrong and the books are Brilliant! Yes, I'm giving it a capital B). Now starting on White is for Magic by Laurie Faria Stolarz.
Current Fanfictions: "Broken" by inadaze22 (it's amazing!) and "MargaritaVilla" by Kyra4
Current Music: "I Can't Stay Away" by The Veronicas
0000000
What Once Was
0000000
July 22, 1997
Tuesday, 7:18 P.M.
Staring at the sky, Harry thought about the events leading up to this point in his life. With the war finally over, he could do anything. Free from the hindrance of constantly worrying over his friends, wondering if he'd make it to another day. Now he could look forward to so much.
But the cost?
Merlin, living these past months had been hell for everyone. The joy of the victory burned at the sight of the various sufferers, bogged down by the grief of the mourners and the tombs of those who died. Friends he'd known all his life no longer existed. They were just dead...dead...never to be seen or heard from again. It didn't seem fair for him to celebrate, even though he had more reason than anyone else.
Ron and Hermione leaned on each other, rejoicing in the return of her parents. The Weasley family exulted over their healthy and prosperous family, each and every one of them. His friends returned to their normal lives, some of them joining Hermione in her endeavor to finish her N.E.W.T.s and complete her Hogwarts' education. The people returned to work at their modest stores, like Fred and George, who both resumed their profitable joke shop. The wizarding world went back to the life everyone knew, free from the terrible reign of Voldemort and his mass of evil followers.
Harry, on the other hand, had nothing left.
Everyone attempted to help, tried to pull him out of his depression, but it proved harder than anyone anticipated. He avoided dinners with the Weasleys, ignored the owls Hermione and Ron constantly sent him, shunned populated places like Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade, and a horde of other people and places just so he wouldn't have to face the reality of his life.
Alone.
Everyone got the opportunity to live again with their families and who did he have?
Nobody.
The Potters: dead.
Sirius: dead.
Remus and Tonks and Dumbledore and even the blasted, grating Severus Snape: dead.
Harry felt more alone now than when he called Privet Drive home.
He heard the gentle footsteps of a person behind him and immediately felt his stomach clench up. He didn't think he could stand listening to one more person tell him to start over, that he of all people had every reason to celebrate. It felt patronizing and he was sick to death of it.
Yet, he didn't expect to see a pretty mane of thick red hair glow beside him, the sunset reflecting off her auburn tresses. He braced himself for whatever words of "encouragement" she planned, knowing full well he had absolutely no intention of listening to them.
The words never came.
They sat in silence for about ten minutes before he finally asked, "Ginny?"
"Yes?"
"You're not out here to harp on me?"
"Nope."
"Why?"
"Do you want me to?" she asked, turning her head to face him, meeting his eyes of the deepest, sparkling jade.
Shaking his head, he answered, "No. I'm out here for the silence."
"Well," she replied, turning back to watch the same sunset, "I'll be silent with you."
For the first time in a long time, Harry felt content.
0000000
July 22, 1997
Tuesday, 8:32 P.M.
"Harry, dear, it's so good to see you!" bustled Mrs. Weasley, rushing around the diningroom table to wrap him in a comforting hug. "It's been ages."
"Yeah, I know. Um, Ginny invited me to dinner so if you don't mind..."
"Mind? How dare you for thinking I'd mind. Sit yourself down and I'll get you a plate."
Harry, grateful she didn't press further, gave her a wistful smile before following Ginny and sitting himself down between her and Ron. His mates - with Hermione seated directly across from him - gave him encouraging smiles, Ron giving him a slight pat on the back, and went back to their dinners.
Again, for this, Harry was grateful.
The table, though quiet, seemed relatively normal given the newest guest. Mrs. Weasley returned with a plate, placing it directly in front of him, before Ginny handed him the bowl of mashed potatoes, a slight smirk on her face.
Harry couldn't help himself - he took the potatoes and her smirk.
0000000
July 25, 1997
Friday, 11: 02 A.M.
"I took Hermione on a date."
Harry looked up from the chess board, his knight crumpled in a heap, Ron's rook pushing its way into the spot. He knew Ron had done something, given the goofy grin on his face and the slight red flush on the back of his neck; but before this moment he couldn't place a finger on it. A date? His two best mates? He knew they were perfect for each other - he thought their personalities, though clashing at times, evened each other out in a way nobody else could do for either of them - but it still seemed funny to think of them together.
"How did it go?" he asked casually, not putting much pressure on Ron. If he made a big deal over it, Ron would flip, grow nervous, and could potentially ruin the entire relationship before it even gets going. He had a tendency to imagine the worst possible scenario with girls, particularly with Hermione.
Shrugging nonchalantly, he replied, "It went well, I s'pose. Just dinner, you know, and we took a walk afterward."
"Nothing else?" inquired Harry, genuinely curious.
"Well, erm, yes," he admitted, his eyes glued on Harry's queen. "We kind of, you know, kissed."
"And?"
"And what? It was a kiss, nothing more."
Harry, the ghost of a smirk playing his lips, muttered, "All right, mate. I get it."
"Yeah," he murmured, clearly glad he told his friend but all too happy to change the subject; "so what did you do last night?"
"Nothing, really. Just read a little bit and then kipped."
"And that's all?" pried Ron, staring him head on. "Just you and nobody else? Not even perhaps, oh I don't know, my sister?"
Sighing aloud, he admitted, "Yeah, Ginny was there, but we didn't even speak. She was just in the same room."
"Ah, I see."
"Sarcasm, why?"
After ordering his knight, he said, "You've been spending a lot of time with my sister lately, mate. I know it's Ginny pushing for it and she's a force to be reckoned with when she sees something she wants. She wants you to get better, I know, but I can already see the wild hope kindled in her eyes."
"I've seen it too," acknowledged Harry, suddenly interested in the light freckles on the back of his own hand.
Crushing Harry's queen into shambles, Ron continued, "You broke my sister's heart once, Harry, and Merlin knows, you had a good reason for it. Just know that this time, I'll kill you if you hurt her." Smirking, he added, "Check-mate."
0000000
July 29, 1997
Tuesday, 7: 33 P.M.
"You realize my mum is planning a whole surprise party for your birthday, right?" asked Ginny, pulling her long hair into a loose ponytail.
Snapping his head to the side, staring at her with bewilderment, he noted, "You do realize the point of a surprise party is the surprise, right? If the guest knows then there is hardly a point for it."
"I'm well aware of the rules regarding parties. Hence why I'm out here right now distracting you whilst yours friends and the rest of my family chat. Since this is the last time they'll be together before the big day, they needed to get you out. I'm always the diversion for some reason, which is starting to grate."
Frowning, he asked, "Why did you tell me?"
"Do you want a surprise party?" she countered, staring in his eyes, wanting an honest answer. Determined to ride it out, neither of them broke the gaze for what seemed like hours, at least in Harry's opinion, and her inability to blink drove him up a wall.
It was maddening.
She was maddening. And frustrating. And infuriating. And everything he found irresistible.
Ending their mini-battle, sensing the victory smile she wore, he answered, "Well, it doesn't matter if I do since I don't have the option anym—"
"Don't give me that, Harry," she interrupted, her tone signaling her irritation, "the question isn't hard to answer. However, to appease you, I'll ask you a wee bit more slowly. Do - you - want - a - surprise - party?"
The hair on the back of his neck stood on edge at her aggressive tactics. He was bloody tired, and sick to death of everyone shoving events into his face if he was honest with himself. No, the last thing he wanted was a surprise party, but it didn't make admitting it to her any easier.
"Well?"
"No, not particularly."
Throwing her hands in the air, she exclaimed, "Well voilà! That is why I told you."
"Telling me does nothing. I'm still going to show up wherever the hell they want me to and act like I'm having a brilliant time. All you've done is make me dread my own birthday."
"And again, you're wrong. Don't you see? I gave you an out. You don't have to do anything you don't want to do."
"You're telling me to bail on the Weasley family? Are you bonkers?" he asked, readjusting his dark-rimmed glasses.
Grinning, she shook her head, casually brushing back a crimson curl behind her ear. Then, "If you don't want to go, I'll make sure you don't have to go."
"How?"
"You leave that to me, little man. Just...on the day of your birthday, have fun. I'll make sure nobody even notices you're gone."
"But—"
"Harry, I'm doing you a favor, you don't have to say anything. I'll take care of it and trust me, when it comes to my family, I know them best. It'll all work out for you."
Funnily enough, though he fleetingly heard everything she said, Harry was far too consumed with the movements of her lips to register any of it.
0000000
July 31, 1997
Thursday, 2: 57 P.M.
Happy birthday to Harry.
Ginny, true to her words, made sure Harry spent his birthday alone. He only wished she would have been able to join him...
0000000
August 14, 1997
Thursday, 10: 16 A.M.
Harry found her deep beyond the Burrow and into the depths of the meadow grasses, sprawled out on her back, red hair surrounding her like a halo. With her knees propped up, she used them to support a hardback book, her pretty eyes scanning the words on the page with acute fervor.
When he approached her, he did so with stealth, sincerely hoping not to disturb her from her reverie. He found himself able to stare at her for hours - he probably would have, had she not spoken aloud.
"There is something utterly satisfying about finding a good book. I think the reason I don't read as much as I should is cause I can never find anything that truly holds my interest. But I think I'm going to steal more muggle books from Hermione."
"What's it called?" he asked, sitting himself down beside her, propping himself up on his elbow.
Closing the book, she gave him a bird's eye view of the cover - Pride and Prejudice - before flipping it back open to stare at the dog-eared page. Thoughtfully, she told him, "Hermione says it's a popular book in the muggle world."
"Very popular," he told her, reaching his hand out to touch her hair, absently playing with her tresses.
Nodding in agreement, she murmured, "I can see why. I wouldn't mind being with a man like Mister Darcy."
"Really?" Ginny didn't miss the hint of jealousy - it felt satisfying.
"How can you not like him? Mind you, he's a bit of a prat at the beginning. A little too smug for his own good, but I've almost reached the end and I just keep falling more and more in love with him."
"Just him?"
Her attention diverted from the tattered pages of the book (a hazard of Hermione reading it so many times) to meet Harry's unsure face. His eyes, though on hers, were glazed over, miles away.
"Who else is there to fall in love with? I mean the ones that fancy her are—"
"I'm not talking about the book and you know it," he interjected sharply, his voice rougher than before. "Damn it, Ginny, stop playing games."
"I'm not playing games," she replied seriously, "and I resent you for thinking that I am. You know how I feel and you know that I never stopped feeling anything for you."
"Then why haven't you told me that?"
"Cause I want you to come to me, not the other way around. Maybe you've forgotten, but you left me...you chose to leave me—"
"I was doing it to protect you!" he countered defensively.
Shaking her head, throwing the book down, she continued, "I'm not denying that Harry and, yes, I guess at the time it seemed like the right thing to do."
"But?"
"But it's not what I wanted!" she yelled, her eyes tearing up, "it was never what I wanted. I wanted to stand beside you until the very end, to support you, to do everything for you yet you pushed me away. And yes–" she threw up her hand, desperate to stop his interruptions– "like I've said, I get why you did it, but that doesn't change how I feel about it. You didn't trust me through any of it, not even as a confidant. Do you have any idea how that made me feel?"
"I couldn't risk you," he told her honestly, running his hand through his messy hair. "There is nothing more I can say about it and I will not feel guilty or bad or anything for it. I did the right thing."
Wistfully, she managed a small smile, dropping her eyes to stare at the cover of her book. Hermione mentioned that every girl fancied Mr. Darcy at some point during the read or, in her case, long after. In spite of what Ginny told Harry, she couldn't find the ability to feel something for a fictional character when she had her own man right beside her, in the flesh, professing his feelings for her (in a very...Harryish way, of course).
Still, it didn't mean she agreed with him.
No, not by a long shot.
"All right," she finally told him, after a long period of discomfited silence, "I get that you won't open your eyes about this. That's fine, Harry."
"Damn it, you're so like your mother with the guilt-trips."
"I learned from the best," she quipped, standing up, attaching the book in the crook of her arm. "When you decide to be honest and stop wallowing in your own misery, you know where I'll be."
Harry didn't come after her.
Ginny never expected him to, but it didn't stop it form hurting.
0000000
August 17, 1997
Sunday, 8: 17 P.M.
Harry found Ginny in precisely the same meadow some three days later. He noticed her keeping to herself these days, and wondered if it had more to do with everybody focusing on themselves or if it was by choice. Based on her family, he banked on the latter.
However, unlike the previous times when he found her in the meadow, he found her fast asleep, her body curled around an open book, her pretty hair blowing around her face. She appeared at peace, complete and totally serene, dreaming something beyond the wars initially plaguing her.
Dropping to his knees beside her, touching his hand to her face and pushing some red strands away, he realized he wanted her; body, mind, and soul. Everything about this girl intoxicated him and as he pressed his face against her hair, he found himself getting drunk of her mere scent.
Responding to him, she slowly lifted her eyelids, a sleepy smile overtaking her as she recognized the man beside her. Without needing to hear him, without requiring a moment for the sleep to clear, she knew, sensed even, that Harry was with her.
Without pausing to give himself the chance to chicken out or louse it up, Harry bent his head and claimed her lips in a sharp, intense kiss. At first she stiffened, shocked at the sudden embrace, before she gathered her wits, thrust her hands into his untidy hair, and returned the kiss with supreme enthusiasm.
How he'd missed this.
How he'd missed her.
Only when the acute need for air beckoned them both did they break apart, gasping in the wake. Harry nuzzled his face between the valley of her breasts, desperate to hold her close to his warm body.
"I wish all my wake up calls were this nice," she murmured, running her fingers soothingly through his dark locks. A small, knowing smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.
For several long moments, neither party said anything.
While Ginny waited for him to collect himself, she tried to decipher what all this could mean. If she allowed herself to get her hopes up only to have him crush her - again - the damage she endured during the war would seem like a paper cut in comparison. Getting hurt again? She couldn't face it, couldn't bear to have her heart ripped open like before.
Meanwhile, as her mind tormented itself, Harry's heart pounded in his chest so hard he nearly passed out from wheezing. Everything in his head was just one big, jumbled mess and he needed a minute to figure out how to communicate with her. He knew what he felt, knew what he wanted - he just didn't know how to tell her.
"What was so nice about it?" he asked, briefly stalling.
Shrugging, she answered, "Waking up with you is always a good thing."
Nodding against her chest, withdrawing his face reluctantly, he lifted his eyes up to meet hers.
"Ginny, I...I know I um...well, the thing is...it's just...and um..."
The stuttering was nearly an aphrodisiac for the redhead, her face glowing with joy and anticipation at Harry's incoherent mumbles. Unable to stop herself, she halted his rambling by fisting his hair a little too hard and pulling him down into another kiss, sucking on his bottom lip and wrapping her right leg around his waist, making him groan into her mouth. For Ginny, she didn't need words to know what he meant. She didn't need someone telling her how he felt because she knew him as well as he knew himself.
She understood...
...and she wanted him too.
"Ginny," he breathed once she released him, his hands cupping her face, willing her to look at him (as if I could ever look away, she mentally snorted), "I know what I want. I just need to know that if I still have a shot. I need to know if I've hurt you too much. I need to know whether or not you can still love me."
Ginny thought each question over with the fierce intensity he begged from her. Dissecting each question, she figured out the answers without breaking the eye contact.
1. Does Harry still have a shot?
The question feels seemingly ludicrous - of course he still has a shot with me! I've been waiting for this for how long? Come on, Harry, I thought you were a little quicker than that.
2. Has Harry hurt her too much?
I won't lie and say I didn't spend several nights crying myself to sleep. I was hurt, dreadfully upset, but beyond repair? I think I'm willing to give him another chance to make it all up to me.
3. Can she still love Harry?
I never stopped...and I never will.
And she knew.
Ginny made her decision.
"Harry, you already know the answers to all of those questions. Now it's time that you did something about it."
"What do I have to do?" he asked, enthralled and absorbed with her.
"Make me fall all over again."
And then she kissed him.
0000000
September 1, 1997
Monday, 8: 46 A.M.
Pressing his lips gently to her forehead, ignoring the stares from the various wizards and witches strolling around them, boarding the Hogwarts Express, Harry took the moment to drink her in just as he'd done the day they officially got back together.
"I'm going to miss you," he whispered, brushing some of her hair back.
Nodding, her eyes teary, a frown pulling her lips down, she replied, "It's not fair. Ron and Hermione have even more time together and yet we're getting pulled apart again."
"I won't be far and you know it. I'll write to you and I'll come visit as often as I can. I think I've earned the right to enter the Hogwarts' grounds whenever I feel like it."
Chuckling, leaning into his chest, she couldn't help agreeing with him. If anyone had earned the right to do whatever the hell he wanted, it was her Harry.
Yes, her Harry.
She loved the sound of it.
"Make it soon," she murmured into his shoulder, taking a generous whiff of Harry's scent, an indulgence she knew she'd miss to a great extent. She didn't want to say goodbye to him.
Hugging her closely, he tilted her chin up and brought his lips to hers, gently caressing her without a care in the world. Screw the people staring. Screw the idiots gawking at Harry Potter. Screw the dolts cringing at the sight of Ginny Weasley with a guy, clearly taken. Harry was finally happy for the first time in a long while.
"I promise to make it soon," he assured her, giving her a few more quick pecks on her cheek. "I love you."
"I love you too," she whispered, beaming at him, mirth dancing in her eyes.
Sighing, looking over his shoulder at the whistling train, he told her, "It's time to let you go. You've got two minutes left."
"Walk me?"
Without giving her a direct answer, he led her by the hand to one of the openings, happy to have even one more second with her. (He already helped her load her trunk on the train).
"Don't forget about me."
"Never," he said against her lips, breathing the words directly in her mouth. "Never, love."
Two minutes later, the train was chugging quickly toward Hogwarts, Ginny Weasley inside. Harry didn't leave the platform for several minutes, his heart on the train with her.
0000000
October 31, 1997
Friday, 7: 59 P.M.
"So that was one of the better feasts," acknowledged Luna thoughtfully. "I especially enjoyed the pudding."
Ginny, stuffed from the night's feasts, smiled at the girl, not feeling the need to speak. One of the best things about Luna Lovegood, she thought, was the girl felt comfortable in silence, not finding a necessary reason to chat over everything. Of course, she'd engage in small talk whenever asked of her, but she never felt the need to smother anyone with chatter. At a time when Ginny's thoughts were running rampant - like now - it worked out for the best.
Rounding the corner, Ginny and Luna embarked on the staircase, the blonde staring idly at the paintings. However, a dark figure caught her attention and she grabbed Ginny's arm, pulling her away from her musings.
"What is that?" asked Luna, her head cocked to the side. Ginny had to give the girl credit - at a time when others cowered, she no longer felt fear. Her experiences during the war taught her not to fear the unknown. Remaining for days upon days in the dark will knock the concept in one's head pretty quickly.
Lining herself up with Luna's line of vision, Ginny spotted a figure at the top of the staircase, hiding in the dark with some sort of...material...hanging over his arm. The person's silhouette clearly defined a man, the shape straight yet toned, characterized by youth and musculature. The mop of messy hair...at the top...
"Harry?"
"Hey, love," the figure whispered, stepping forward into the light.
"Harry!" she bellowed, running into his arms seconds before the staircase stopped moving.
The moment he engulfed her into his arms, she felt well; whole and undeniably safe. It felt as though she'd been in pain and hadn't even realized it, thirsting in the desert for years, and now suddenly the discomfort ceased. As though the empty void in her life finally felt satiated and occupied, allowing her to breathe comfortably again.
Ginny felt content.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, her arms still tightly wrapped around his neck, no part of her body disconnected from his.
Shrugging lightly, dropping a kiss on her forehead, he answered, "I had a meeting with McGonagall. I wanted to discuss certain aspects about Auror training with someone I trust given the job offers coming in."
"Auror training?" she noted, curiosity and disapproval marring her normally musical voice.
Grinning sheepishly, he replied, "I guess I've been neglecting to fill you in on everything, haven't I?"
"Yes, you have. Explain."
"I just didn't want you to worry. It's not exactly the safest occupation—"
"Obviously!"
"—but it's something I'm interested in. I've always been interested in that, as you know, and now I finally may be given the chance to do what I want. I hardly want to sit on my arse from here on out. Without you around, I need something to distract me."
Normally she would have laughed, would have kissed him, would have loved his teasing tone.
Right now, nothing was normal.
"I just can't believe you haven't told me about this. I can't believe you didn't mention you coming here!"
"Ah, well that was something else entirely. I wanted to surprise you, love. Are you?"
"I'm definitely surprised," she managed to get out, feeling lightheaded by being in presence after so long.
Chuckling lightly, he dropped another lingering kiss on the corner of her mouth. "I was hoping to catch you alone, that way nobody would know why you won't be coming back to Gryffindor Tower tonight."
"What a lovely night it is," whispered Luna, casually moving to another staircase. "I better check my clothes for winter plantares. They always try to sneak into fabrics a season early..."
"Thanks, Luna," said Harry genuinely, "I appreciate this."
"Wow, the wind must be awfully strong tonight. I can almost hear voices in it. Oh, probably just some moppe's mating," she murmured to herself, staring up at the ceiling, leaving to give Harry and Ginny the privacy they craved yet rarely received.
Realizing Luna left them alone, subtly informing them that their secret was safe with her, he pulled the invisibility cloak off his arm and threw it around him. Harry grabbed her hand and ran along toward the fifth floor, determined to have Ginny all to himself for the night.
Laughing openly, feeling better than she had in months, Ginny asked, "And where are you going tonight? It's Halloween! Everyone will be up celebrating all night."
"Exactly," he replied cheekily, "and you will be celebrating too, only with me. I plan on holding you all night long, love."
Ginny couldn't think of anything sounding quite as good.
0000000
December 25, 1997
Thursday, 9: 41 A.M.
"Harry, dear, this one is from me and Arthur," gushed Molly, pushing the wrapped parcel in his hands, swooping to drop a motherly kiss on his forehead.
Feeling more gratitude than he could put into words, he dropped his attention to the paper, carefully unwrapping the latest addition to his wardrobe of Molly's handcrafted garments.
For the first Christmas in...well, in Harry's life, everyone was opening presents the way he envisioned most families would. Every important person to the Weasleys had been invited to the Burrow to give and receive gifts, each person opening one by one to allow the moments to linger and the appreciation to flourish. Harry never felt more at home, more normal, in his life. No rushing through anything so a meeting of the Order of the Phoenix can get underway. No pathetic little trinket from the Dursleys spoiling the joyous occasion. Just everyone - the entire Weasley clan, Hermione, little Teddy (whom was staying for the early morning before returning home to his guardians, Tonk's parents), Fleur, George's girlfriend Angelina, and Charlie's girlfriend Marcy - enjoying serenity, the first Christmas without the squabbles of war and impending doom driving them into madness and helplessness.
Harry felt...ordinary.
He liked the feeling, too.
"Thanks so much, Missus Weasley," he said sincerely, wrapping the long scarf around his neck. "It feels so warm."
"I added a heating charm on it so hopefully you lot won't catch your death when you decide to play quidditch later. I still think you should hold off until the snow—"
"Don't even think it, mum," Charlie cut her off, shaking his head.
"We've already got galleons on this game," interjected Fred, clearly horrified at the thought of not competing.
Leaning his back against Angelina, snuggling in her embrace, George added, "Yeah and with all the extra players, for first time in a long time, the game will be completely worthwhile. And since dad offered to play, we'll only be one player short each. Plus, Hermione offered to be our scorekeeper."
"Only cause she can't ride a broom to save her life," teased Ron, his arm casually wrapped around her.
"Oi, don't make her mad!" yelled Fred, throwing a ripped bow at his head. "We don't want her quitting before it even starts."
"Don't worry about that," murmured Hermione, resigned. "I've been planning on this since November. I'm prepared to watch you dolts hurt yourself and fight like first years. Maybe, if I'm lucky, Harry will catch the snitch early on and I won't have to watch for too long."
"He'll have to get past me," stated Ginny, confidence in her tone.
Harry thought she'd never looked more desirous.
0000000
December 25, 1997
Thursday, 3: 22 P.M.
The teams had been divided as follows:
Team Bill - Chasers Angelina, Percy (Only fair, given Angelina was star chaser during her years and Bill, though a seeker, was a superb flyer and overall player; not to mention, their seeker easily could be playing professional), and Bill, beater Fred, Keeper Ron, and Seeker Harry.
Team Charlie - Chasers Fleur, Marcy, and Arthur, beater George, keeper Charlie, and Seeker Ginny.
Hermione, seated on the sidelines with a disgruntled Molly and a contagiously joyous Teddy, nestled snugly in the latter's lap, bundled up in yards of warm clothing, yelled out, "Now keep it clean! I know how all of you competitive idiots get—"
"I'll say," growled Mrs. Weasley.
"—so don't get too rambunctious. Remember to set an example for little Teddy here."
"The kid probably doesn't even know what we're doing," argued Ron, rolling his eyes.
"He's learning lifelong lessons and habits at this early stage in his life, Ronald," she countered.
"All right, all right," sighed Bill, eager to get underway, winking at his wife on the opposing team, "We'll play fair. I plan on winning fair in square, you know."
"We shall zee," snubbed Fleur, radiantly confident. Bill merely smirked at her.
"Yes, we shall." Angelina smiled playfully at George from across the field. The redhead shrugged, self-assured in his victory. "What makes you so confident? I've got Harry on my team. Hardly seems fair, does it?"
"Oh I don't know," Ginny said, tying her long hair back, "I mean, Harry is a pretty good flyer, but..."
"But what?" asked Harry, grinning.
"You're up against me."
"I won't deny, love, that you'll be quite the challenge, but I foresee a victory here." Harry's teammates, more or less, murmured their agreements behind him.
"In my favor," said the redhead, mounting her broom, preparing to take flight. Everyone followed her lead and did the same.
"All right, on the count of three," said Hermione, now situated in the middle of their makeshift field behind the Burrow, quaffle in her hand and snow on her boots. "One, two, THREE!"
Throwing it into the air, Angelina swooped in to snag it and the game began...
0000000
The game progressed friendly enough, the opposing teams far too concerned with loved ones safety to get overly aggressive. The chasers moved easily around their temporary pit, laughing whenever one of them made a mistake or they managed to score a goal.
The score was roughly close, with Bill's team leading only by a slight twenty points.
"Come on, Harry, find that damn snitch!" urged Ron, barely saving a superb shot by Fleur.
"I'm working on it," he muttered, frantically sweeping every available inch of open space, eager to find the golden ball.
Truth be told, he would have had it a long time ago if Ginny hadn't been so close. They'd both been going after it, flying side by side, when he caught her scent which managed to render him a little dazed. Realizing her effect, she laughed to herself, both of their attention gone, and the ball zoomed off before either of them caught the blasted thing.
Needless to say, he found concentrating on the snitch far harder than usual.
"Problems, Harry?" she taunted, grinning wickedly at him.
Winking, he told her, "You gloat now but you haven't won just yet."
"Only cause you're too busy nattering!"
Suddenly, Ginny swooped past him, her tiny frame bent close over her broom, zooming before he even had the chance to realize she'd spotted the snitch. Quickly, he rode after her fiercely, glad she got a fair shot against him. After all, he definitely knew how to play, ride a broom, and grab the annoying orb. He'd been on the Gryffindor team for so many years, generally always victorious (when conscious) and certainly...
Okay, so Ginny was flying skillfully, giving him a run for his galleons. Speeding up, he darted around in a circle, cutting off the snitch, forcing the sparkling sphere, glistening like diamonds around the snowy scenery, to rise upwards. Jerking his broom back, he spotted Ginny closely, frantically trying to ignore her glorious fragrance.
Then, catastrophe struck.
Ginny's cloak, billowing roughly behind her from the wind power and the speed of her broom, untied around her neck and flew off behind her, taking her scarf with it. Harry got a full view of the tight, baby-blue shirt she wore beneath it, hardly the typical quidditch attire he was used to. Just the right amount of cleavage managed to distract him.
"Game over!" yelled Hermione. "Team Charlie wins!"
The moment his toes touched the soggy ground, his teammates verbally assaulted him.
"Best player in a century, my arse!"
"Bloody hell, there goes ten galleons!"
"Harry, what in the hell happened?"
"You're supposed to catch the snitch! Not ogle at the other team!"
"What happened, mate?"
Shrugging, Harry merely hung is head, a smile twitching his lips. Ginny stood beside him, her windswept hair making her even more beautiful. Just as he opened his mouth to ask her why she tortured him by wearing such a bold shirt, Bill asked, "Harry, aren't you supposed to be the best player in the last hundred years or something like that? I picked you cause I wanted to win. Perhaps you shouldn't have mitched practice so often."
"Yeah," he replied, pointing accusingly at Ginny, "but normally I'm not up against someone who looks like that!"
A fit of laughter broke out as the group walked back into the warm, cozy house, prepared to celebrate the victory (and, in the case of Bill's team, drown their sorrows) in some of Mrs. Weasley's homemade hot cocoa.
The family couldn't help noticing the change in Harry, the progress he made since the end of the war. Nobody voiced it but a great weight lifted off all of them at seeing him happy.
Harry, however, didn't acknowledge anything save the feeling of supreme gratification over the game. Ginny taught him to live again. Ginny taught him to enjoy the simple things in life, again. Ginny reminded him to breathe, again.
So Harry thought about quidditch.
And what Harry knew was that his Ginny was a force to be reckoned with.
Mistake is the work of fanfiction. The characters belong to J.K. Rowling, but the featured story is mine.