The Sugar Quill
Author: Jamsel  Story: The Window Seat  Chapter: Default
The distribution of this story is for personal use only. Any other form of distribution is prohibited without the consent of the author.

For Jocelyn

For Jocelyn

Are you lonely? Cause I’ve been lonely.

-The River Bends


“I like your hair,” Harry murmurs, flicking the ends of it with his thumb and forefinger. The flowery scent he once discovered at the Burrow and revisited in potions class wafts towards him, and he figures it must be her shampoo or her perfume. She glances up with an amused expression and rubs his head roughly, messing up his untidy black hair even more.

“I like your hair,” she replies with a saucy grin, settling back against his chest. They’re sitting on a red window seat that overlooks the lake. The best thing about this window seat is that there’s a bright red curtain that they can draw, creating their own tiny private room. It’s just big enough for two. He smiles down at the top of her head, which rests on the centre of his chest. Her thick red hair splays out all over him as she’s lying between his legs with her hands resting on top of his knees. He’s propped up his right leg so she doesn’t fall off, and she’s been drumming on it absently for the past five minutes.

He grabs at the drumming hand and holds it tightly while she lets out a giggle and struggles for a moment before letting it stay clasped in her own much smaller and softer grip. She looks up at him again with a different kind of grin and pokes his right lens. “I like your glasses.”

This surprises him; he has never seen glasses as something that a girl might find attractive.  No one’s ever said anything like that before, he thinks to himself, casting a glance down at the pretty redhead sitting between his legs. “I like your eyes,” he says, thinking that it’s probably the right thing to say because her mouth forms another kind of grin moments later. He feels like this smile belongs to him and him alone. Her lips curve in a way that can’t be controlled or called upon but springs up at a time of pure delight.

This seems to have become way too simple. He’s never been able to be with a girl this easily before besides Hermione, but she is a special sort of sister and looks after him with the kind of caring that most only receive from family members. That’s what they have become to him, a different sort of family, but family all the same. For the first time in his real, un-potion-induced life--despite all the deaths, the terrible childhood and the looming threat of his own demise--Harry Potter feels like luck has favoured him.

“What is it?” Ginny asks, and he realizes that the expression on his face must be contemplative.

“You know, Ginny, it’s just that…well, I don’t know how to say this, but…” He shoots her a quick glance and grins. “I really, really… like your nose.”

She laughs aloud this time, and he can tell that he had her in suspense for a fleeting moment. She twists around in his lap and leans up, placing a lightning quick kiss on his lips. As she settles back against his chest, he buries his head in her neck and wraps his arms around her waist, pulling her close until his cheek touches hers. He doesn’t know how they came upon this seated position, but it is quickly becoming his favourite.

He presses his lips against her cheek for a moment, until her cool flesh heats up, and then hugs her tighter. Turning her head slightly to meet him, she reaches out and cradles the back of her head with her small hand. She strokes his cheek with her thumb as he stares into her bright brown eyes, and he doesn’t want her to stop, but he knows that this is just one of those things that she does to him that makes him lose control.  He pinches her waist on both sides, and she lets out a small giggle and pulls his head towards her until they are kissing.

He likes kissing Ginny a lot more than kissing Cho. Her lips are warm, comforting, but they hold many secrets and surprises that he has slowly been unlocking as they spend more time together. She pulls a fraction of a centimetre away and runs her tongue along his lower lip, and he can tell she enjoys it when she makes his breath catch in his throat. Sliding his hands up her back, he rests them behind her neck and runs his thumbs along the rims of her ears. “I like your ears, too,” he mumbles, and she kisses him on the cheek before turning back around and pulling his arms around her tight.

“That was quite the practice today, Captain,” she says after a moment, breaking the silence that he has discovered can be comfortable when in the presence of the right person.  He is confused for a moment. Oh. Quidditch. “My calves are aching.”

He’d held a final team practice earlier in the day for everyone to fly around together in celebration of the end of a championship season. “It wasn’t supposed to be tough,” he says, wrinkling his eyebrows. She is silent for a moment.

“It was,” she protests with a blunt edge to her voice.

“No. it wasn’t,” he retorts, and she sits up and spins around.

“I think I’m a perfectly good judge of what is and isn’t a hard Quidditch practice. I don’t even know why we were practicing; we already won the cup.” As she says this she leans up against the opposite wall of the window seat and brings her legs up to her chest, staring at him with a raised eyebrow, her cheeks a little flushed.  

“It was supposed to be a last team fly. I thought you of all people would enjoy it.” He doesn’t understand, his thoughts reeling. There’s no way this can be about Quidditch.

“You made us do laps,” she states incredulously.

“Just because we already won doesn’t mean you lot don’t need to keep up your good form for next season,” he protests. She rolls her eyes. “I enjoyed myself.” He’s confused and stares at her for a minute. She looked like she was having fun earlier that day.

“Well if that’s your idea of fun, I can’t wait for our first date. Oh wait a minute; I have nothing to worry about, because we’re not even dating,” she states, muttering a bit under her breath.  She shoves herself off the window seat with such force that she’s out from behind the curtain before the impact of her words washes over him. When it does, he tears out from behind the red velvet and lunges for her elbow. He grabs the edge of her jumper and holds on.

 “Ginny,” he says in a voice that hopefully sounds calm. Inside he’s panicking. She tries to pull away from him, but he grabs hold of her wrist with his other hand and turns her around. Her expression is so fiercely vulnerable he momentarily blinks in surprise. He hasn’t seen this look on Ginny’s face since she was twelve and couldn’t look him in the eye. “You know I like you. We were just talking about it.” He doesn’t understand as she crosses her arms and huffs at him.

“And you know I like you. How come I’m not your girlfriend?” she demands, her red hair falling into her face.

“I thought you were, well, last time I checked,” he says, baffled. All this kissing, hanging out, enjoying one another’s company: he wonders what a relationship is if not what they’ve been doing.

“Funny, you never mentioned that to me,” she spits back, hugging her arms around herself so tightly that he thinks she might break something. He’s taken aback by her comment. Isn’t ‘girlfriend’ something that’s implied? Apparently not. “I mean, we’ve been hanging out and snogging for three days, and you keep telling me you like me so much and all of these things…I just…” She stops for a moment, and he can tell she’s thinking of the right words to say. “I’ve liked you for a long time, you know I have, but I’m never going to be a quick snog for any guy, no matter who it is.” She’s staring at him now, most of the discomfort drained from her eyes, and he sees that another emotion is gripping her: defeat.

He blinks at her in surprise. “I didn’t know I was supposed to ask. I mean, with Cho there was a Hogsmeade visit so that was easy, I just sort of thought the girlfriend thing was erm… undeclared.” He shakes his head in embarrassment, and she’s still staring at him with an eyebrow slightly raised. “So I guess I’m an idiot.” He pauses awkwardly, grasping at straws. “I have a question for you, though,” he says, racking his brain for a good way to get out of this mess.

“Will I be your girlfriend?” Ginny asks sarcastically, a pink tinge of anger, scepticism and embarrassment covering her cheeks.

“No,” he says, and she throws her arms up in the air in exasperation.

“Well, go on then.”

“Can I be your boyfriend?”


He can tell that she’s trying hard not to laugh as he closes the distance between them. “This means that you’re my girlfriend,” he says, futility embracing his struggle to contain his smile. He figures he deserves the punch that she instantly delivers to his arm.

“Oh shut up,” she says, embarrassed and trying not to look too pleased. She fails, and even biting her lip can’t stop the smile that spreads across her face. “It’s not my fault you’re thick.”

He decides not to dispute the point. “Anything else that I’m forgetting?” he asks, smiling at the embarrassed redhead standing in front of him.

“I think you’re forgetting that we have another date at the window seat that started five minutes ago.”



Special thanks to PythonBlossom, Lady Narcissa and Falling Damps for beta reading this for me!


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