I Love You, Ginny Weasley
They had broken up 3 months ago.
Harry had ended the year long relationship a few days after the anniversary of the war. That week it felt to Ginny like she cried more than she had ever cried in her entire life. At first she shed tears for Fred, Lupin, Tonks, Mad-Eye and all the other unnamed victims but by the 5th of August the tears that fell from her eyes were for one man only: Harry Potter.
However, a few months down the line and Ginny's life was better than ever. She was in the Holyhead Harpies training squad meaning that once she turned 18 she was allowed to try out for the world-famous team; the band that her and her friends had ironically started a year ago was actually becoming noticed around her home town and with at least two music producers living nearby the future was looking up for Ginny's small-town band; and to top it all off, Austin from the small café that she worked in on the weekends found every opportunity there was to flirt with her and he was constantly asking her out on dates that Ginny politely declined.
She still felt that something was missing from her though.
And on one unseasonably sunny afternoon in autumn, her missing piece returned to her.
'Hey, Weasley! You coming?'
'You bet Potter!' Ginny was glad that nothing was awkward between them. The first month was full of shy 'hello's' and hurriedly exiting a room as soon as the other entered but now they acted as if nothing had ever happened which Ginny was thankful for.
Not wanting to miss a game of quidditch, the red-head ran to her father's shed and grabbed her broom-there was no way she was losing this game with her brand new broom. Jogging to the homemade pitch in the back garden, she prayed that a certain raven-haired boy may notice her once more.
An hour later and five Weasleys, one Potter, one soon-to-be Weasley and one Spinnet all tumbled into the kitchen of the Burrow, the smell of freshly baked cookies greeting them.
'We totally thrashed you out there!' laughed George, running to grab a cookie off the table.
'Well I guess you can't win them all,' shrugged Charlie as he threw his arm around his fiancé, Megan.
'My team is the best team, that's why we won!' stated Harry as he slung is two arms around Ginny and Ron. Ginny froze at his touch. What did this mean? Did he want to try again with her? *Don't be stupid Weasley, he's moved on* and Ginny had to give in to her conscience, after all, what would the famous Harry Potter want with a small-town girl like her?
After showering and changing into some clean clothes, all the Weasleys and their guests were relaxing in the living room. Watching a comedy film on the TV that Charlie had insisted on getting Mr Weasley after he had lived with Megan's muggle parents for two weeks.
'You really must tell me more about these wonderful inventions Megan. I mean, how do those people fit inside that small screen?' inquired Mr Weasley as he gazed in awe at the television. Megan released herself from Charlie's grip and sat up to explain to her future father-in-law the basics of a TV.
'Well-'
'Dad, I'll explain it later,' Charlie stopped his future wife's sentence as he knew that his father could talk endlessly about all things concerning muggles, 'don't worry Megan he's a bit obsessed, in a minute he'll take it to the shed and start to dismantle it.'
Megan shrugged at her fiancé's words and settled herself back into his chest.
'Have you decided on a date for the wedding yet?' asked Ginny.
'Not really, we were thinking about sometime in Spring so that it will be warm but not too warm' answered Megan. Charlie rarely brought home girls but on the rare occasions that he did, they were always snobby, brats that never stayed longer than two months – 'daddy's princesses' Mrs Weasley called them. So when Megan was introduced to the Weasleys they were prepared for the worst but she turned out to be nothing like they expected; she was kind, polite, helpful and could play quidditch really well.
'That sounds wonderful dear, Ginny will you help me with the dinner please?' Molly Weasley asked her youngest and only daughter.
Reluctantly, Ginny left the sofa and made her way into the kitchen and was surprised to see Harry peeling carrots.
'I've got to do some washing but I'm sure you two can manage, Ginny will you please peel the potatoes?'
Picking up the peeler, she made her way to the bowl of potatoes that just so happened to be right next to Harry's bowl of carrots – Ginny had a firm idea what her mother was trying to do.
'So, how are you?' Ginny jumped at Harry's sudden words and he stifled a laugh.
'Alright I guess, you?'
'Good. I heard try-outs for the Holyhead Harpies are coming up, you gonna go?'
'Yeah I'm gonna try. I'll have only just turned 18 you see so I'll only just be allowed to try out.'
'But in the wizarding world you come of age at 17.'
'Yeah you do but the founder of the Harpies was a muggle-born and, as I'm sure you know, in the muggle world you come of age at 18 and with the Harpies, tradition is tradition. It's like a crime to break it.'
'Oh ok that makes sense. Well good luck, I'm sure you'll do great!'
'Thanks, Harry.' She embraced him in a tight hug and, just like by the lake after the war, Harry felt like everything was perfect – for a few seconds at least.
'Alright thanks for that guys, you can go back and watch the movie if you want,' Mrs Weasley ended the moment by entering the room again – if she had known what Harry was about to ask Ginny she wouldn't have spoken so soon.
'Ok, you coming Harry?'
'Yeah, I'll be there in a second.'
'Ok, whatever.'
Harry watched the red-head stroll back into the living room. He loved the way she walked – he hadn't noticed that before – the slight sway in her hips, the way her hair flowed perfectly down her back-
'Harry?'
'Oh, sorry Mrs Weasley.' Harry turned a dark red and practically ran into the living room. Mrs Weasley giggled to herself, she had heard what Harry had whispered after her daughter even if she hadn't. She had watched him gaze longingly after Ginny and whisper those 5 words he so desperately wanted to say: 'I Love You, Ginny Weasley'.