Five minutes later, they were entering the bar once more, with people cheering. "Wow, you haven't exaggerated," he chuckled as he wrapped his arm around her waist. Luckily, right in the middle, the safest point.
"Yes, it somehow grew into a legend due to my brother's mistake," she said, laughing with him. She didn't normally allow people to be that forward with her, not even someone as handsome as Harry Potter turned out to be, but she said nothing under the circumstances. This time, she was the one that insisted to keep their roles.
They were supposed to be playing the enthusiastic newlyweds, after all.
"Hermione's fiancee, right?" Harry asked.
"Yes, her loving fiancee," Ginny said. With a bit more heat than she would usually use, it was clear that Hermione had a crush on him, and it was for the best to encourage him not to take that. No need to annoy their potential savior by rejecting his advances.
Admittedly, a part of her was dancing with excitement at the fact that it was Harry Potter that was hugging her, but she did her best to suppress that childish part of hers. The mission was too important to entertain her childhood fantasies.
They chatted slowly as they looked around for a table … before one of the waitresses suddenly appeared behind them. "We have a nice secluded table for you lovebirds," she said, and Ginny recognized her. She was the one that was bringing her champagne repeatedly. "So you can kiss as much as you want … and do other things as long as you're careful," she said, the second part barely a whisper.
"Thanks, we'll keep that in mind," Harry answered, and started walking toward their table. A large booth. She sat first, and rather than sitting across her, he sat next to her, close enough that their bodies rubbed together. She opened her mouth to warn him, but then she realized how it would come across.
She was the one that asked him to play along in public, and that was after Ron screwed up everything with his horribly-planned romantic gesture. And, if Hermione hadn't suddenly turned into a klutz, they wouldn't need to retreat to make a public spectacle.
She couldn't blame him just because he was playing around with their screwup.
And, if she was being perfectly honest with herself, his arm around her didn't feel bad.
"I can't tell you just how much we appreciate you coming back to Britain," Ginny whispered as she leaned even closer. "It's not a decision everyone would make."
"Apparently, the world needs me. What kind of man would I be if I turned my back when destiny calls," he whispered back. It was to make sure they weren't overheard, of course, but that didn't prevent her from trembling from her throaty tone.
He was really handsome.
Ginny thought about asking how exactly Hermione managed to convince him, but before she could gather her wits, they were interrupted.
"So, this is the sexy husband we're finally meeting. Maybe a bottle of wine to celebrate," said another waitress. Ginny wanted to be angry at the interruption, but, plied by free stuff, she found it hard to be angry.
"Thanks, I'm a lucky girl," Ginny answered, giving the warmest smile she could manage.
"Oh, I'm the lucky one," he said, but Ginny wasn't expecting him to suddenly lean and kiss her neck. It was a soft, lingering kiss, but nonetheless, it left her body burning.
Ginny prepared to push him away, but seeing the indulgent expression on waitress' face, he held back. He was just playing for the audience. She couldn't just come out and blame him.
Even if his lips affected her far worse than she expected.
"Thanks for the wine, but we would like to be alone," Ginny said.
"Oh, I understand," the waitress said, winked, and walked away.
As she walked away, Harry's arm tightened around her even further. "Umm," Ginny found herself murmuring.
"We need to sell it well after what you have just said here, red," he whispered, and Ginny found herself trembling badly.
"Good point," she admitted, and instantly turned her attention to the bottle of wine. She needed a big glass to handle the evening, which was going out of control.
His hands dipped a little lower as she reached for the bottle, landing on her hips, but she kept her mouth shut. He was just helping to clean up their mistakes.
She quickly drained a glass, followed by a second… Before things started to get too warm. She drank some more to cool herself down … after all, chilled wine was the best way to cool down … yet, even as the world started to swim.
She grabbed Harry, hoping that it would help the world spin, but the presence of his hard muscles didn't seem to help. His hard … thing didn't help either. The world continued to spin. "I need to go to the bathroom," she whispered and stood up, only for the boat to slip under her.
Luckily, rather than the painful collision she feared, she feared a pair of strong arms around her. "Thanks, my handsome husband," she whispered, and leaned forward, trying to capture his lips. He leaned back, avoiding her lips. "Why, husband," she gasped.
"Because I need to carry you bridal style, honey," he said, and suddenly, Ginny started to fly. Not fly, she realized a moment later when her arms wrapped around his neck, but carried to their room, but pressing against his hard muscles … it felt like flying.
Ginny enjoyed the ride, which lasted far too short, before they ended up in her beautiful honeymoon suite. "Ginny, what's wrong with you?" Hermione called.
"Muggle wine is delicious," she answered. "And, it doesn't even burn."
"She enjoyed her celebratory wine too much," Harry commented. Ginny might have felt annoyed at his words, but she liked the way his chest rumbled as he talked.
"I did," she answered with a giggle.
"Why don't I help her," Hermione said.
"No, we need to practice being married," Ginny answered, trying to hug him tighter, but somehow, she found herself on the bed, next to Hermione.
"Good. I'll be in the shower, giving you two some space," Harry said, walking into the bathroom.
"I won't say no to a shower—" Ginny started, only to find a hand on her mouth.
"Don't say anything you'll feel self-conscious about tomorrow, when you're sober again," Hermione whispered.
Ginny giggled. What a silly friend she had. She wasn't drunk, just tipsy. She could still do cartwheels easily. She wanted to show her that, but the ship chose to betray her, suddenly rocking badly. "Wow, I didn't know you can somehow balance yourself this good," Ginny whispered as she looked at Hermione, somehow unflappable despite the ship rocking endlessly.
"Now, let's put you in some nice pajamas," she said. "And don't worry, I'll stay with you here tonight."
"No need, Harry was a sweetheart," Ginny said, giggling once again. "I'm sure he won't mind enjoying the honeymoon suite."
"I … I'm sure he won't," Hermione answered, blushing. "Now, pajamas," she said and reached for her bag, but Ginny's gaze noticed something else. A little pile, filled with some complementary clothing for the couple in the honeymoon suite. The kind of muggle lingerie she really wanted to buy, but prevented by Hermione. They were in a pile, as no doubt Hermione would throw them away.
Which was why she carefully cast a spell to summon a pair of them to the bed. For some reason, they wobbled as well, but Ginny managed to save a set before Hermione noticed. She pushed them under the pillow before she turned back, her hands full.
Ginny said nothing, obedient as Hermione changed her … though, for some reason, halfway in, she was hit with a desire to rest her eyes.
For a while…
When she opened her eyes, she found herself in the bed, nicely tucked. Hermione was nowhere to be seen. Nor was Harry, but she could see the light coming from the connected bathroom. He was still showering, she reasoned even as she stood up.
"Nice, the ship isn't moving that badly," she murmured as she quickly shed her pajamas and underwear, leaving herself naked. For a moment, she stopped, thinking just how impressive she would have looked if Harry chose that moment to walk in. It would have been a scandal … though it would be a lie to say she would hate it.
Instead, she quickly put on the lingerie she stole from the pile, then checked herself in the mirror. It was not much of an improvement, she realized. The negligee, mostly black with occasional red accents, didn't have a place that would actually hide her body. Somehow, she looked sluttier than behind naked.
It didn't feel real, then it hit spinning head. It wasn't. It was just a dream … meaning, there was no harm in sneaking a glimpse. She stumbled toward the bathroom door…