"Come on, Potter! Up and at em'," A loud voice pierced Harry's ear drums, making the man in question jump out of bed. He reached for his wand, but it had already been taken. Turning to the other person in the room, Harry was greeted with a beaming George Weasley.

"Blood hell, George!" Harry complained, "what are you doing?" He looked down at himself, still dressed in the boxers he had gone to bed in. "Why are you in my bedroom?"

George seemed unperturbed by Harry's lack of dress, he said, "The funny thing is, I bet there are hundreds of witches who would love to be in my situation right now. Harry Potter's bedroom, almost starkers. Me however," He heaved a dramatic sigh, "I couldn't care less."

"It's not just my bedroom," Harry contested moodily, "it's also your sister's."

"Now why," George moaned as he made a disgruntled face, "would you have to remind me of that?"

Harry couldn't stop the smug smirk from forming on his lips. "Consider it payback for waking me up at," he glanced at the clock. "Nine in the morning when I only went to bed at six."

George made to sit down on the bed, but after a quick glance, decided he didn't want to sit where his little sister slept with her fiancée. Instead, he walked over to the corner, opposite from the bed, and sat in the diagonally placed chair. "Listen Harrikins, you're getting married in what two years?"

"Try two months."

"Oh, we have less time than I feared. Here's the thing, Proposal Potter: you can't dance."

All Harry could do was blink at his future brother-in-law. "You're bring this up to me now, while I'm half asleep and only in my pants?"

George shrugged. "Seemed like a good time to me."

"Okay, George, get to the point."

The red headed man sprung out of his chair and wrapped one arm around his companion's shoulders. He took his free arm and placed his palm flat, while making a stop gesture. "Imagine it's the day of the famous Ginny Weasley's wedding, and her no name husband gets on the dance floor and can't seem to "cut a rug"." George made a wiping motion with his outstretched hand. "Now wouldn't that be embarrassing?"

Though he was annoyed with George's actions, Harry couldn't help but agree with the vision. "Okay then George," Harry drawled, "what do you propose I do?"

The pranksters face lit up as he grinned broadly. "Ah, I have it all worked out my black haired brother. Just trust me."

Trusting George apparently meant taking two Portkeys, narrowly dodging arrest in three different cities, and almost receiving a tattoo while taking a kip. In the end, Harry figured he shouldn't have trust George Weasley as much as he did. He would trust that man with his life, but never again would he take a trip with the joke shop owner.

After four hours of travel, which should have only been ten minutes by a regulated Portkey, George had brought him outside of a dusty, tall building, down a side street in the city of Barcelona, Spain. "Why are we here, George?" Harry asked, as his friend just smiled at him.

"You need to learn how to dance," George stated matter-of-factly.

"And I need to come all the way to Barcelona to learn?"

George placed on hand on Harry's shoulder. "Before Bill's wedding; Fred and I came here to learn to dance. We wanted to impress some of the Veela cousins. Let's just say, if the French have the language of love, then the Spanish have the dancing of amore."

It was as if Harry was seeing George in a whole new light. "Jeez George," Harry said with a sarcastic drawl, "I never knew you were muy romantico."

George blinked. "You speak Spanish?"

Harry chuckled. "A little. I was sent to Valencia for a mission a few years back. I picked up a few things here and there."

"Like what?"

"Adoro tu pelo rojo largo, Ginny."

George gave a slight start. "What does that mean? Something to do with Ginny?"

"I adore your long red hair, Ginny."

"You used it for lines on my sister?" George asked with a bark of a laugh.

Harry couldn't help but chuckled as well, but shrugged. "Yeah, and it worked pretty well."

George made the same disgusted face from earlier in Harry's bedroom. "Spare me the details," then he smiled, "Can you teach me some Spanish, some time? I bet Angie would get a kick out of it."

"Sure, what do you wanna know?"

George moved his face close to Harry's ear and whispered something. Harry couldn't contain his chuckle but repeated the phrase in Spanish.

"Nice!" George exclaimed happily, then suddenly became suspicious, "wait, why did you know that so quickly?"

"So, dancing," Harry said quickly looking pointedly at the building, "do we have an appointment, or do we just walk in?"

"I made us an appointment," George let the matter drop. That was something Harry always appreciated about George, he would let things drop unlike Ron or Percy. Especially if it had to do with his and Ginny's sex life.

"Alright, lead the way then."

Many hours later, Harry had finally gotten the basics of the dance mastered. George had sat in one of the chairs, enjoying Harry's humiliation. The instructor was harsh and yelled at Harry in rapid Spanish, every time he stepped on her foot. Harry's personal favorite was, "¿Qué pasa contigo británico?"

George had taken to the floor a few times himself, claiming that Harry just needed a Weasley to practice on. Of course, that wasn't the issue, but the instructor loved having a break from the foot stomping. At half past ten in the evening, George got them a Portkey to take them back to England. The arrival point was the hill where Harry and the Weasley's had taken his first Portkey to the Quidditch World Cup, so many years ago.

Harry bid George farewell, saying that even though he hated it, it was a necessary evil. George had just winked at him and told him to remember that in the future after his next prank, "Testing for the shop, of course."

Harry Apparated back to his and Ginny's flat in Holyhead, landing on the front step. He opened the heavy wooden door and was greeted to the sounds of firewood crackling and the wireless playing softly.

"Gin?" He called, taking off his shoes in the entry hall.

"In the sitting room," Ginny's voice responded.

Harry made his way to her. She was sitting on the couch, reading her playbook while listening to the new Weird Sisters song. She closed her binder when he reached the seat next to her. "So," she prompted, "where have you been all day? I thought you had the day off?"

Harry let out a heavy sigh. "Your brother took me on a mission."

Ginny's eyebrows rose high into her hair. "Which brother?"

"George."

She let out a tiny giggle. "What kind of mission did George have for you?"

"The only kind he knows; the humiliating kind."

Ginny let out a real laugh, and removed the closed playbook from her lap. She moved, so she was straddling Harry's lap. "That sounds about right. Was your pride hurt? I can kiss it and make it better."

Harry grinned at her. "Yeah, we should try one of your healing sessions."

She started pressing light kisses along his neck, moving up onto his jaw, and eventually his lips. Ginny was better than any potion the healers at St. Mungo's would prescribe. Harry thought she could bring him out of a coma with one of her kisses.

When she finally pulled away from his mouth, he almost let out a small whimper. She placed a final kiss on his nose before asking, "All better?"

"For now," Harry conceded, "but I may need another session later."

Ginny laughed. "Floo and schedule an appointment. So, what was the mission George took you on? The note I found when I came home said practically nothing."

"What note?"

Ginny removed herself from his lap and walked over to one of the side tables, where a small scrap of parchment sat. Ginny cleared her throat dramatically before reading, "Dear Ginny, I have kidnapped your boy toy. I'll return him in one piece." She snorted. "He didn't even leave his name, but I did had a suspicion it was him or Ron."

She placed the note back into its spot and turned back to look at him. "So, the mission?"

Harry looked up at her. Her bright brown eyes reflecting the fire, as she looked at him. After all this time he couldn't believe she had chosen him. What had he done to deserve someone as beautiful as Ginny? Her looks, her passion, even her temper appealed to him.

He stood up; waved his wand at the wireless to change the music to a romantic ballad, and joined her on the rug in front of the fire. He pulled her in close to her, placing one his hand on her hips, while the other grasped her hand. She gave a little squeak of surprise, but put her free hand on his back.

He started to move them. Swaying them to the beat of the song. They stayed dancing slowly for a while, until Ginny asked quietly, "George taught you to dance, huh? You haven't stepped on my foot once."

"Yeah," Harry told her huskily, "I don't think we needed to go all the way to Barcelona to learn, but it was a very George-like thing to do."

Ginny gave an unladylike snort. "He took you all the way to Barcelona to dance? Well, I'll say this for my brother, he never does anything half arsed."

Harry placed a kiss on the side of her jaw. "Sí, estoy de acuerdo." He moved his attention further up, right under her ear and whispered, "Te amo, mi amor."

Ginny gave a shudder of pleasure. She wriggled her eye brows. When she spoke her voice was raspy, "Speaking Spanish, huh? Are you trying to get lucky?"

Harry moved his lips over to her mouth and placed a fiery kiss on her lips. "Quien yo?" He paused, kissing her a few more times, "Sí."

Inspiration for this chapter comes from the song Barcelona by Ed Sheeren.

Translations:

Amore: love

Muy romantico: very romantic

¿Qué pasa contigo británico?: What's wrong with you British?

Sí, estoy de acuerdo: yes, I agree

Te amo, mi amor: I love you, my love

Quien yo?: Who, me?