notes: Thanks to Indigo Lily, my lone reviewer...
our dancing days
iii. iced butterbeer
ginnyharry
They start out again.
"Hi. I'm Ginny," she tells him, and he bites back the urge to laugh, especially when he sees her fighting the same impulses. He holds out his hand to her, and she shakes it gently. He can feel her vibrating with controlled laughter.
"Nice to - um - meet you, Ginny. I'm Harry. Iced Butterbeer, right?"
"Harry, you're not supposed to know that," she hisses out of the side of her mouth, and he blushes at his own stupidity.
"Lucky guess?" He wages, and she taps him on the arm with a smile and sends him away to the bar to get their drinks. She slides into the booth - their usual, she thinks - and picks at her fingernails. When Harry returns, he smirks as he notices her childhood-long habit.
"So, Harry," Ginny says after clearing her throat. "Tell me a bit about yourself."
"Well," he starts, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "For a living, I'm the Conqueror of the Dark Lord, although I am training to be an Auror in my spare time." She laughs heartily. "My favourite colour is blue, I adore pumpkin pie and Butterbeer, I play - or, at least, used to play - Seeker for the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and... that's about it."
"I suppose I'll follow your lead," Ginny tells him, winking. "I play Chaser for the Holyhead Harpies, my favourite colour is green, I love chocolate frogs and iced Butterbeer, and I'm desperately in love with Harry James Potter."
"Oops," Harry says, swallowing his Butterbeer. "I forgot that last part."
"Can't say I noticed."
"No?"
"Nah."
They laugh heartily, and talk for hours in the slowly empting Three Broomsticks. They remember old stories, tell each other everything they missed out in sixth year, and almost make up for lost time. They give up the act of not knowing each other - because they do, and well - until the very end.
"It was charming to meet you, Ginny," Harry comments, pulling out Ginny's chair and waiting for her to stand. She blushes and, again, curses her Weasley complexion. Harry only chuckles.
"Likewise, Harry," she replies, "although, I don't think I'll be Flooing you anytime soon." She puts the money on the table for her iced Butterbeer and walks away, not even looking back to see Harry staring after her. Only when she reaches the door does she call out, "Well? What're you waiting for?"
Harry shakes his head, and follows her out into the blistering cold of Christmas Eve, glad he opted for a normal, warming Butterbeer.