A.N: I feel like I need to clarify that to me, this film isn't emotional. However, seeing as I've only ever cried at three films, this suited the drabble better. What were those three films none of you ask? Perks of Being a Wallflower is the one that gets to me the most. Y'know at the end, when Charlie's sat at his desk, trying to get himself to stop crying? That makes me so sad, and it's so powerful. But I couldn't do that, seeing as I've already written a drabble about that book. Then there's Blended, and I know that it's not a sad film, however I went to the pictures to see it with my friends a couple of weeks after my dad walked out on me and my brothers, so it kinda stung to watch the part when they're discussing the dad who bails on them all the time, so that wouldn't have made Harry and Ginny emotional, I guess. Then there's Madagascar 2, when young Alex is being taken away, and something about that scene made seven year old me very upset. That one's pathetic, I know. Anyway, here is a drabble about Harry and Ginny watching Titanic.

"Fifteen-hundred people went into the sea, when the Titanic sank from under us. There were twenty boats floating nearby… and only one came back. One. Six were saved from the water, myself included. Six… out of fifteen-hundred. Afterward, the seven-hundred people in the boats had nothing to do but wait… wait to die… wait to live… wait for an absolution… that would never come. … No, there wouldn't be, would there? And I've never spoken of him until now… Not to anyone… Not even your grandfather… A woman's heart is a deep ocean of secrets. But now you know there was a man named Jack Dawson and that he saved me… in every way that a person can be saved. I don't even have a picture of him. He exists now… only in my memory."

"I don't understand, what's the Titanic?" Ginny mumbled to Harry, leaning across to whisper in his ear.

Harry, who was clutching the now half-empty bowl of popcorn, drizzled in butter, didn't take his eyes off the screen as he muttered a reply.

"It's this really famous muggle boat that sunk like a hundred years ago. Now shh, you'll miss what she's saying" he rushed, holding a finger up to his mouth as if to convey the importance of not speaking. Ginny rolled her eyes, and turned back to the television that was conveniently placed in the middle of their small apartment living room.

Crossing her arms, she leant back into the cream sofa, and exhaled heavily. Ginny had inherited the same irritable habit that Fred, George and Ron had - the inability to sit still, in silence. For mum's birthday last year, Bill and Fleur had bought her Celestina Warbeck's Greatest Hits record, and they could barely get past the third song until Fred, George and Ginny had all picked up pots and pans and tried to put their own spin on 'Flighty Aphrodite'. When they were little, their parents would make them sit in different rooms - Ginny would usually be confinded to the Naughty Step - if they were being a nuisance.

Ginny found that if she was watching a really great film, or reading a good book, then she could sometimes get wrapped up in it, and sit still for a few hours. But it had to be spectacular. And so far, Titanic hadn't caught her attention.

Fortunately, Harry loved the film so much so he didn't notice that Ginny didn't.

...

"Surely if you put an old lady in a wheelchair on a rocky death trap they call a boat, wouldn't she just roll around everywhere? I mean she probably has arthiritis, and won't be able to control - "

"For Heavens sake Ginny, they can't kill the main character off ten minutes into the film!"

"I'm just saying that there's a huge chance her dog could jump off her lap, and in a desperate attempt to chase after it, she could fall overboard."

"Rose is a loving pet owner, that Pomeranian isn't going anywhere."

"It might, if Rose smells like prunes."

"You're very frustrating sometimes, you know that?"

"And you have an unhealthy obssession with a chick flick. But we love each other anyway."

"That all depends on if you can stay quiet through this film."

"Haha, no. If you love me, you'll let me tune in to the late night Quidditch scores?"

"If you love me, you'll let me watch this film with my restless and beautiful and silent girlfriend?"

"Touché, Potter."

...

"Well, yes, ma'am, I do… I mean, I got everything I need right here with me. I got air in my lungs, a few blank sheets of paper. I mean, I love waking up in the morning not knowing what's gonna happen or, who I'm gonna meet, where I'm gonna wind up. Just the other night I was sleeping under a bridge and now here I am on the grandest ship in the world having champagne with you fine people. I figure life's a gift and I don't intend on wasting it. You don't know what hand you're gonna get dealt next. You learn to take life as it comes at you… to make each day count."

The arrival of the infamous Jack Dawson on screen had perked Ginny up a little, as she stopped biting her fingernails out of desperation, and instead perched forward, as to watch the film better.

Leonardo DiCaprio, for that was his real name, was nothing short of a phenomenon. He was the miracle needed to get Ginny to sit still for long enough so that Harry could believe that she too shared his adulation for the classic film. Ginny allowed to him to continue thinking this, rather than know the truth, which was that she found Jack Dawson incredibly handsome.

"I wouldn't mind sleeping under a bridge with you" Ginny muttered, under her breath.

"What was that, love?" Harry asked, oblivious.

"Oh, um, I was just saying he's a very good actor. Very . . . talented."

"Isn't he? It's a shame he's never won an Oscar."

"Hmm . . . yeah, a shame" Ginny trailed, unsure of who or what an Oscar was. She figured it was some kind of tournament where they challenge actors strength, intelligence and bravery, like the Triwizard Tournament.

"I would have thought he'd be quite good at battling dragons" Ginny sighed.

"What?"

...

Ginny was howling with laughter, holding her sides as she rolled around on the sofa. Harry merely watched, an expression on his face most commonly found on a Sex Ed teacher giving a lesson on how babies are conceived.

"It's not that funny" he sighed.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

"I happen to think that it's a very emotional scene" Harry continued.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

"The way that Rose finally accepts and trusts Jack enough to appear bare in front of him is truly a marvellous thing" Harry tried again.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

"Okay, so fine, she's naked. And yes, he's drawing her! Get over it! It's a beautiful scene, and if you can't respect that then you're . . . you're . . . then you're just an immature baby!"

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

...

"Excuse me, why have the engines stopped? I thought I felt a shudder?"

"I shouldn't worry, madam, we've likely broke a propellor blade. That's the shudder you felt - may I bring you anything?"

Harry was on the edge of his seat now, gnawing on his lip. He'd seen this film so many times now, he couldn't keep count, but what was to come always made his stomach churn.

"Ginny, are you watching?" he asked, not breaking his gaze on the screen, as he reached a hand out to grab her attention. Instead he felt nothing. Looking over he saw her not seated on the sofa, but stood up, in the doorway, in nothing but her underwear. He gulped, the lacy black fabric leaving little to the imagination.

She was sniggering, and he knew the second he saw her what she was up to.

"Hey Harry, draw me like one of your French girls."

"Oh my God."

...

"I love you, Jack."

"Don't you do that, don't say your good-byes. Not yet, do you understand me?"

"I'm so cold."

"Listen, Rose. You're gonna get out of here, you're gonna go on and you're gonna make lots of babies, and you're gonna watch them grow. You're gonna die an old... an old lady warm in her bed, not here, not this night. Not like this, do you understand me?"

"I can't feel my body."

"Winning that ticket, Rose, was the best thing that ever happened to me... it brought me to you. And I'm thankful for that, Rose. I'm thankful. You must do me this honor. Promise me you'll survive. That you won't give up, no matter what happens, no matter how hopeless. Promise me now, Rose, and never let go of that promise."

"I promise."

"Never let go."

"I'll never let go, Jack. I'll never let go."

"Couldn't she move over a bit? I mean, she's no Dudley, and that plank of wood could fit at least like five other people on there!"

"Don't ruin this for me Ginny! Don't you even!" Harry exclaimed, loudly. Ginny sat back, mumbling something about pricks under her breath. He wasn't sure he she was talking about his prick, or calling him one. Sighing, he reached over for her hand, and flashed her a smile.

"However, I love that you referrenced Dudley though."

Ginny beamed back up at him, and looked over towards the television.

"Bet she lets go, though."

". . . . . "

"Called it."

...

Harry and Hermione stood on the tube, clutching the handrails with one hand, rubbing the sleep out of their eyes and covering their mouths as they yawned with the other one.

"Late night?" Hermione asked, imbetween yawns.

Harry nodded, lifting his glasses up off of his eyes so that he massage the bridge of his nose with exhaustion.

"Stayed up because Titanic was on BBC1" he explained. "Ginny's first time watching it."

"We watched that too" Hermione replied, sounding as equally exhasperated.

"I love my girlfriend, but sometimes I wish that she wasn't so excitable and hyperactive, y'know? Although now that I think about it . . . it is quite adorable."

"Let me guess - she reenacted that French-girl-drawing scene, right?"

Harry looked over at Hermione, with surprise, and nodded.

"Ron did the same thing" she sighed, clarifying how she knew.

"Oh. That sounds about right."